Wit Definition and Examples
An attempt to describe the precise Limits of Wit, Humour, Raillery, Satire and Ridicule, I am sensible, is no easy or slight Undertaking. To give a Definition of Wit, has been declared by Writers of the greatest Renown, to exceed their Reach and Power; and Gentlemen of no less Abilities, and Fame, than Cowley, Barrow, Dryden, Locke, Congreve, and Addison, have tryed their Force upon this Subject, and have all left it free, and unconquered. This, I perceive, will be an Argument with some, for condemning an Essay upon this Topic by a young Author, as rash and presumptious. But, though I desire to pay all proper Respect to these eminent Writers, if a tame Deference to great Names shall become fashionable, and the Imputation of Vanity be laid upon those who examine their Works, all Advancement in Knowledge will be absolutely stopp'd; and Literary Merit will be soon placed, in an humble Stupidity, and solemn Faith in the Wisdom of our Ancestors.
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Whereas, if I rightly apprehend, an Ambition to excell is the Principle which should animate a Writer, directed by a Love of Truth, and a free Spirit of Candour and Inquiry. This is the Flame which should warm the rising Members of every Science, not a poor submission to those who have preceded. For, however it may be with a Religious Devotion, a Literary One is certainly the Child of Ignorance.
However, I must acknowledge, that where I have differed from the great Authors before mentioned, it has been with a Diffidence, and after the most serious and particular Examination of what they have delivered. It is from hence, that I have thought it my Duty, to exhibit with the following Essay, their several Performances upon the same Subject, that every Variation of mine from their Suffrage, and the Reasons upon which I have grounded it, may clearly appear.
The following Ode upon Wit is written by Mr. Cowley.
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O D E
O F
W I T.
I.
Tell me, oh tell!, what kind of Thing is Wit,
Thou who Master art of it;
For the first Matter loves Variety less;
Less Women love't, either in Love or Dress.
A thousand diff'rent Shapes it bears,
Comely in thousand Shapes appears;
Yonder we saw it plain, and here 'tis now,
Like Spirits in a Place, we know not how.
II.
London, that vents of false Ware so much Store,
In no Ware deceives us more;
For Men, led by the Colour, and the Shape,
Like Zeuxis' Bird, fly to the painted Grape.
Some things do through our Judgment pass,
As through a Multiplying Glass:
And sometimes, if the Object be too far,
We take a falling Meteor for a, Star.
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III.
Hence 'tis a Wit, that greatest Word of Fame,
Grows such a common Name;
And Wits, by our Creation, they become;
Just so as Tit'lar Bishops made at Rome.
'Tis not a Tale, 'tis not a Jest,
Admir'd with Laughter at a Feast,
Nor florid Talk which can that Title gain;
The Proofs of Wit for ever must remain.
IV.
'Tis not to force some Lifeless Verses meet,
With their five gouty Feet.
All ev'ry where, like Man's, must be the Soul,
And Reason the inferior Pow'rs controul.
Such were the Numbers which could call
The Stones into the Theban Wall.
Such Miracles are ceas'd, and now we see
No Towns or Houses rais'd by Poetry.
V.
Yet 'tis not to adorn, and gild each Part,
That shews more Cost than Art.
Jewels at Nose, and Lips, but ill appear;
Rather than all Things Wit, let none be there.
Several Lights will not be seen,
If there be nothing else between.
Men doubt; because they stand so thick i' th' Sky.
If those be Stars which paint the Galaxy.
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VI.
'Tis not when two like Words make up one Noise;
Jests for Dutch Men, and English Boys.
In which, who finds out Wit, the same may see
In An'grams and Acrostiques Poetry.
Much less can that have any Place,
At which a Virgin hides her Face;
Such Dross the Fire must purge away; 'Tis just
The Author blush, there where the Reader must.
VII.
'Tis not such Lines as almost crack the Stage,
When Bajazet begins to rage;
Not a tall Metaphor in th' bombast Way,
Nor the dry Chips of short-lung'd Seneca.
Nor upon all Things to obtrude,
And force some odd Similitude.
What is it then, which like the Pow'r Divine,
We only can by Negatives define?
VIII.
In a true Piece of Wit, all Things must be,
Yet all Things there agree;
As in the Ark, join 'd without Force or Strife,
All Creatures dwelt; all Creatures that had Life.
Or as the primitive Forms of all,
(If we compare great Things with small)
vi Which without Discord or Confusion lie,
In the strange Mirror of the Deity.
IX.
But Love, that moulds one Man up out of two,
Makes me forget, and injure you.
I took You for Myself, sure when I thought
That You in any thing were to be taught.
Correct my Error with thy Pen,
And if any ask me then,
What thing right Wit, and Height of Genius is,
I'll only shew your Lines, and say, 'Tis this.
The Spirit and Wit of this Ode are excellent; and yet it is evident, through the whole, that Mr. Cowley had no clear Idea of Wit, though at the same time it shines in most of these Lines: There is little Merit in saying what Wit is not, which is the chief Part of this Ode. Towards the End, he indeed attempts to describe what it is, but is quite vague and perplex'd in his Description; and at last, instead of collecting his scatter'd Rays into a Focus, and exhibiting succinctly the clear Essence and Power of Wit, he drops the whole with a trite Compliment.
The learned Dr. Barrow, in his Sermon against foolish Talking and Jesting, gives the following profuse Description of Wit.
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But first it may be demanded, What the Thing we speak of is? Or what the Facetiousness (or Wit as he calls it before) doth import? To which Questions I might reply, as Democritus did to him that asked the Definition of a Man, 'Tis that we all see and know. Any one better apprehends what it is by Acquaintance, than I can inform him by Description. It is indeed a Thing so versatile and multiform, appearing in so many Shapes, so many Postures, so many Garbs, so variously apprehended by several Eyes and Judgments, that it seemeth no less hard to settle a clear and certain Notion thereof, than to make a Portrait of Proteus, or to define the Figure of the fleeting Air. Sometimes it lieth in pat Allusion to a known Story, or in seasonable Application of a trivial Saying, or in forging an apposite Tale: Sometimes it playeth in Words and Phrases, taking Advantage from the Ambiguity of their Sense, or the Affinity of their Sound: Sometimes it is wrapp'd in a Dress of humorous Expression: Sometimes it lurketh under an odd Similitude: Sometimes it is lodged in a sly Question, in a smart Answer, in a quirkish Reason, in a shrewd Intimation, in cunningly diverting, or cleverly retorting an Objection: viii Sometimes it is couched in a bold Scheme of Speech, in a tart Irony, in a lusty Hyperbole, in a startling Metaphor, in a plausible Reconciling of Contradictions, or in acute Nonsense; Sometimes a scenical Representation of Persons or Things, a counterfeit Speech, a mimical Look or Gesture passeth for it. Sometimes an affected Simplicity, sometimes a presumptuous Bluntness giveth it Being. Sometimes it riseth from a lucky Hitting upon what is Strange; sometimes from a crafty wresting obvious Matter to the Purpose. Often it' consisteth in one knows not what, and springeth up one can hardly tell how. Its ways are unaccountable, and inexplicable, being answerable to the numberless Rovings of Fancy, and Windings of Language. It is, in short, a Manner of Speaking out of the simple and plain Way (such as Reason teacheth, and proveth Things by) which by a pretty, surprizing Uncouthness in Conceit or Expression, doth affect and amuse the Fancy, stirring in it some Wonder, and breeding some Delight thereto. It raiseth Admiration, as signifying a nimble Sagacity of Apprehension, a special Felicity of Invention, a Vivacity of Spirit, and Reach of Wit, more than vulgar; it seeming to argue a rare b ix Quickness of Parts, that one can fetch in remote Conceits applicable; a notable Skill that he can dextrously accommodate them to the Purpose before him; together with a lively Briskness of Humour, not apt to damp those Sportful Flashes of Imagination. (Whence in Aristotle such Persons are termed epidexioi, dexterous Men, and eutropoi, Men of facile or versatile Manners, who can easily turn themselves to all Things, or turn all Things to themselves.) It also procureth Delight, by gratifying Curiosity with its Rareness, or Semblance of Difficulty. (As Monsters, not for their Beauty, but their Rarity; as juggling Tricks, not for their Use, but their Abstruseness, are beheld with Pleasure;) by diverting the Mind from its Road of serious Thoughts, by instilling Gaiety, and Airiness of Spirit; by provoking to such Disposition of Spirit in Way of Emulation, or Complaisance; and by seasoning Matters otherwise distasteful or insipid, with an unusual and thence grateful Tange.
This Description, it is easy to perceive, must have cost the Author of it a great deal of Labour. It is a very full Specimen of that Talent of entirely exhausting a Subject, for x which Dr. Barrow was remarkable; and if the Point was, to exhibit all the various Forms and Appearances, not of Wit only, but of Raillery, Satire, Sarcasms, and of every Kind of Poignancy and Pleasantry of Sentiment, and Expression, he seems to have perfectly succeeded; there being perhaps no Variety, in all the Extent of these Subjects, which he has not presented to View in this Description.--But he does not pretend to give any Definition of Wit, intimating rather that it is quite impossible to be given: And indeed from his Description of it, as a Proteus, appearing in numberless various Colours, and Forms; and from his mistaking, and presenting for Wit, other different Mixtures and Substances, it is evident that his Idea of it was quite confused and uncertain: It is true, he has discovered a vast Scope of Fertility of Genius, and an uncommon Power of collecting together a Multitude of Objects upon any Occasion, but he has here absolutely mistaken his work; for instead of exhibiting the Properties of Wit in a clearer Light, and confuting the false Claims which are made to it, he has made it his whole Business to perplex it the more, by introducing, from all Corners, a monstrous Troop of new unexpected Pretenders.
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Dryden, in the Preface to his Opera, entitled, The State of Innocence, or Fall of Man, gives the following Decree upon Wit.
The Definition of Wit, (which has been so often attempted, and ever unsuccessfully by many Poets) is only this: That it is a Propriety of Thoughts and Words; or in other Terms, Thoughts and Words elegantly adapted to the Subject.
If Mr. Dryden imagined, that he had succeeded himself in this Definition, he was extremely mistaken; for nothing can be more distant from the Properties of Wit, than those he describes. He discovers no Idea of the Surprize, and Brilliancy of Wit, or of the sudden Light thrown upon a Subject. Instead of once pointing at these, he only describes the Properties of clear Reasoning, which are a Propriety of Thoughts and Words;--Whereas Wit, in its sudden Flashes, makes no Pretension to Reasoning; but is perceived in the pleasant Surprize which it starts, and in the Light darted upon a Subject, which instantly vanishes again, without abiding a strict Examination.
The other Definition he gives, which is, Thoughts and Words elegantly adapted to the Subject, is very different from the former, but equally unhappy.
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For Propriety, in Thoughts and Words, consists in exhibiting clear, pertinent Ideas, in precise and perspicuous Words.
Whereas Elegance consists in the compt, well pruned and succinct Turn of a Subject.
The Object of the First, is to be clear, and perspicuous; whence it often appears in pursuit of these, not compt or succinct: Whereas the Essence of Elegance is to be compt and succinct, for the Sake of which Ornaments it often neglect Perspicuity, and Clearness.--In short, a Propriety of Thoughts and Words, may subsist without any Elegance; as an Elegance of Thoughts and Words may appear without a perfect Propriety.
The last Definition, as it is thus very different from the former is also equally unhappy: For Elegance is no essential Property of Wit. Pure Wit resulting solely from the quick Elucidation of one Subject, by the sudden Arrangement, and Comparison of it, with another Subject.--If the two Objects arranged together are elegant, and polite, there will then be superadded to the Wit, an Elegance and Politeness of Sentiment, which will render the Wit more amiable. But if the Objects are vulgar, obscene, or deformed, provided the first be elucidated, in a lively Manner, by, the sudden Arrangement of it with the second, there will be equally Wit; though, the xiii Indelicacy of Sentiment attending it, will render such Wit shocking and abominable.
It is with the highest Respect for the great Mr. Locke, that I deliver his Sentiments upon this Subject.
And hence, perhaps, may be given some Reason of that common Observation, that Men who have a great deal of Wit, and prompt Memories, have not always the clearest Judgment or deepest Reason: For Wit lying most in the Assemblage of Ideas, and putting those together with Quickness and Variety, wherein can be found any Assemblance or Congruity, thereby to make up pleasant Pictures, and agreeable Visions in the Fancy. Judgment, on the contrary, lies quite on the other side; in separating carefully one from another, Ideas, wherein can be found the least Difference, thereby to avoid being missed by Similitude, and by Affinity to take one thing for another. This is a Way of proceeding quite contrary to Metaphor and Allusion; wherein for the most Part lies that Entertainment and Pleasantry of Wit, which strikes so lively on the Fancy, and therefore is acceptable to all People, because its Beauty appears at first Sight, and there is required no Labour of Thoughts xiv to examine what Truth, or Reason, there is in it. The Mind, without looking any further, rests satisfied with the Agreeableness of the Picture, and the Gaiety of the Fancy. And it is a kind of an Affront to go about to examine it by the severe Rules of Truth, and good Reason, whereby it appears, that it conflicts in something that is not perfectly conformable to them.
It is to be observed that Mr. Locke has here only occasionally, and passantly, delivered his Sentiments upon this Subject; but yet he has very happily explained the chief Properties of Wit. It was his Remark First, that it lies for the most Part in assembling together with Quickness and Variety Objects, which possess an Affinity, or Congruity, with each other; which was the first just Information obtained by the literary World, upon this Subject.
As to what he adds, That the Intention, and Effects, of this Assemblage of similar Objects, is to make up pleasant Pictures, and agreeable Visions in the Fancy, it is, as I humbly apprehend, not quite perfect: For the Business of this Assemblage is not merely to raise pleasant Pictures in the Fancy, but also to enlighten thereby the original Subject.--This is evident; because in such xv Assemblages, the only Foundation upon which the new Subject is suddenly introduced, is the Affinity, and consequently the Illustration, it bears to the first Subject.--The Introduction of pleasant Pictures and Visions, which present not a new Illustration, and Light, to the original Subjects, being rather wild Sallies of Vivacity, than well-aimed, apposite Strokes of Wit.
It is Mr. Locke's Conclusion, at last, That Wit consists in something that is not perfectly conformable to Truth, and good Reason.--This is a Problem of some Curiosity; and I apprehend Mr. Locke's Determination upon it to be right:--For the Direction of Wit is absolutely different from the Direction of Truth and Good Reason; It being the Aim of Wit to strike the Imagination; of Truth and Good Reason, to convince the Judgment: From thence they can never be perfectly coincident.
It is however true, that there may be Instances of Wit, wherein the Agreement between the two Objects shall be absolutely just, and perceived to be such at the first Glance. Such Instances of Wit, will be then also Self- evident Truths. They will both agree in their obvious, and quick Perspicuity; but will be still different in this, that the Effort of the One is to strike the xvi Fancy, whereas the Other is wholly exerted in gratifying the Judgment.
The Sentiments of Mr. Addison upon Wit, are professedly delivered in the Spectator Nº. 62. annexed to the following Essay. He has there justly commended Mr. Locke's Description of Wit; but what he adds, by Way of Explanation to it, that the Assemblage of Ideas must be such as shall give Delight, and Surprize, is not true, in regard to the Former, Delight being no essential Property of Wit; for if the original Subject be unpleasant, or deformed, the sudden unexpected Arrangement of a similar Object with it, may give us Surprize, and be indisputably Wit, and yet be far from creating any Delight.
This Gentleman has also given the following Example, in order to illustrate the Necessity there is, that Surprize should be always an Attendant upon Wit. "When a Poet tells us, the Bosom of his Mistress is as white as Snow, there is no Wit in the Comparison; but when he adds, with a Sigh, that it as cold too, it then grows to Wit." --To compare a Girl's Bosom to Snow for its Whiteness I apprehend to be Wit, notwithstanding the Authority of so great a Writer to the contrary. For there is a Lustre resulting from the natural and c xvii splendid Agreement between these Objects, which will always produce Wit; such, as cannot be destroyed, though it will quickly be rendered trite, by frequent Repetition.
This Problem, How far Surprize is, or is not, necessary to Wit, I humbly apprehend, may be thus solved.--In Subjects which have a natural and splendid Agreement, there will always be Wit upon their Arrangement together; though when it becomes trite, and not accompanied with Surprize, the Lustre will be much faded;--But where the Agreement is forced and strained, Novelty and Surprize are absolutely necessary to usher it in; An unexpected Assemblage of this Sort, striking our Fancy, and being gaily admitted at first to be Wit; which upon frequent Repetition, the Judgment will have examined, and rise up against it wherever it appears;--So that in short, in Instances where the Agreement is strained and defective, which indeed are abundantly the most general, Surprize is a necessary Passport to Wit; but Surprize is not necessary to Wit, where the Agreement between the two Subjects is natural and splendid; though in these Instances it greatly heightens the Brillancy.
The subsequent Remark of Mr. Addison, That the Poet, after saying his Mistress's xviii Bosom is as white as Snow, should add, with a Sigh, that it is as cold too, in order that it may grow to Wit, is I fear, very incorrect. For as to the Sigh, it avails not a Rush; and this Addition will be found to be only a new Stroke of Wit, equally trite, and less perfect, and natural, than the former Comparison.
It may also be observed, That Mr. Addison has omitted the Elucidation of the original Subject, which is the grand Excellence of Wit. Nor has he prescribed any Limits to the Subjects, which are to be arranged together; without which the Result will be frequently the Sublime or Burlesque; In which, it is true, Wit often appears, but taking their whole Compositions together, they are different Substances, and usually ranked in different Classes.
All that Mr. Congreve has delivered upon Wit, as far as I know, appears in his Essay upon Humour, annexed to this Treatise. He there says, "To define Humour, perhaps, were as difficult, as to define Wit; for, like that, it is of infinite Variety". --Again, he afterwards adds, "But though we cannot certainly tell what Wit is, or what Humour is, yet we may go near to shew something, which is not Wit, or not Humour, and yet often c2 xix mistaken for both". --In this Essay, wherein he particularly considers Humour, and the Difference between this, and Wit, he may be expected to have delivered his best Sentiments upon both: But these Words, which I have quoted, seem to be as important and precise, as any which he has offered upon the Subject of Wit. As such, I present them, without any Remarks, to my Reader, who, if he only goes near to be edified by them, will discover a great Share of Sagacity.
The Sentiments of these eminent Writers upon Wit, having thus been exhibited, I come next to the Subject of Humour. This has been defined by some, in the following Manner, with great Perspicuity.-- Humour is the genuine Wit of Comedies,--which has afforded vast Satisfaction to many Connoissures in the Belles Lettres; especially as Wit has been supposed to be incapable of any Definition.
This Subject has also been particularly considered by the Spectatator Nº. 35. inserted at the End of the following Essay. Mr. Addison therein gravely remarks, that "It is indeed much easier to describe what is not Humour, than what it is;" which, I humbly apprehend, is no very important Piece of Information.--He adds, "And xx very difficult to define it otherwise, than as Cowly has done Wit, by Negatives." This Notion of defining a Subject by Negatives, is a favourite Crotchet, and may perhaps be assumed upon other Occasions by future Writers: I hope therefore I shall be pardoned, if I offer a proper Explanation of so good a Conceit;--To declare then, That a Subject is only to be Defined by Negatives, is to cloath it in a respectable Dress of Darkness. And about as much as to say, That it is a Knight of tenebrose Virtues; or a serene Prince, of the Blood of Occult Qualities.
Mr. Addison proceeds, "Were I to give my own Notions of Humour, I should 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". --It is very unfortunate for this Allegorical Description, that there is not one Word of it just: For Truth, Good Sense, Wit, and Mirth, represented to be the immediate xxi Ancestors of Humour; whereas Humour is derived from the Foibles, and whimsical Oddities of Persons in real Life, which flow rather from their Inconsistencies, and Weakness, than from Truth and Good Sense; Nor is Wit any Ancestor of Humour, but of a quite different Family; it being notorious that much Humour may be drawn from the Manners of Dutchmen, and of the most formal and dull Persons, who are yet never guilty of Wit. Again, Mirth is not so properly the Parent of Humour, as the Offspring.--In short, this whole Genealogy is a nubilous Piece of Conceit, instead of being any Elucidation of Humour. It is a formal Method of trifling, introduced under a deep Ostentation of Learning, which deserves the severest Rebuke.--But I restrain my Pen, recollecting the Visions of Mirza, and heartily profess my high Veneration for their admirable Author.
The Essay upon Humour, at the End of this Treatise, written by Mr. Congreve, is next to be considered. It appears, that at first he professes his absolute Uncertainty in regard to this Subject; and says, "We cannot certainly tell what Wit is, or what Humour is." But yet, through his whole Piece, he neglects the Subject of Humour in general, and only discourses upon the xxiiHumour, by which he means barely the Disposition, of Persons: This may particularly appear from the following Words.
"A Man may change his Opinion, but I believe he will find it a Difficulty to part with his Humour; and there is nothing more provoking than the being made sensible of that Difficulty. Sometimes we shall meet with those, who perhaps indifferently enough, but at the same time impertinently, will ask the Question, Why are you not merry? Why are you not gay, pleasant, and chearful? Then instead of answering, could I ask such a Person, Why are you not handsome? Why have you not black Eyes, and a better Complexion? Nature abhors to be forced.
"The two famous Philosophers of Ephesus and Abdera, have their different Sects at this Day. Some weep, and others laugh at one and the same Thing.
"I don't doubt but you have observed several Men laugh when they are angry; others, who are silent; some that are loud; yet I cannot suppose that it is the Passion of Anger, which is in itself different, or more or less in one than t'other, but that it is the Humour of the Man that is predominant, and urges him to express it xxiiiin that Manner. Demonstrations of Pleasure, are as various: One Man has a Humour of retiring from all Company, when any thing has happened to please him beyond Expectation; he hugs himself alone, and thinks it an Addition to the Pleasure to keep it a Secret, &c."
All which, I apprehend, is no more than saying; That there are different Dispositions in different Persons.
In another Place, he seems to understand by Humour, not only the Disposition, but the Tone of the Nerves, of a Person, thus,
"Suppose Morose to be a Man naturally splenetic, and melancholy; is there any thing more offensive to one of such a Disposition (where he uses the Word instead of Humour) than Noise and Clamour? Let any Man that has the Spleen (and there are enough in England) be Judge. We see common Examples of this Humour in little every Day. 'Tis ten to one, but three Parts in four of the Company you dine with, are discomposed, and started at the cutting of a Cork, or scratching of a Plate with a Knife; it is a Proportion of the same Humour, that makes such, or any other Noise, offensive to the Person that hears it; for there are others who will not be disturbed at all xxivby it."
At this Rate every Weakness of Nerves, or Particularity of Constitution, is Humour.
It is true, he justly points out in another Place the different Sentiments, which ought to be adapted to different Characters in Comedy, according to their different Dispositions, or, as he phrases it, Humours: As for Instance, he very rightly observes, That a Character of a splenetic and peevish Humour, Should have a satirical Wit. A jolly and sanguine Humour should have a facetious Wit. --But still this is no Description of what is well felt, and known, by the general Name of Humour.
However, as what I have already quoted, may appear to be only his looser Explanations, it will be necessary to deliver his more closed and collected Sentiments upon this Subject. These he gives in the following Words,
"I should be unwilling to venture, even in a bare Description of Humour, much more to make a Definition of it; but now my Hand is in, I will tell you what serves me instead of either. I take it to be, A singular and unavoidable Manner of doing or saying any thing, peculiar and natural to one Man only, by which his Speech and Actions are distinguished from those of other Men."
--This d xxv Description is very little applicable to Humour, but tolerably well adapted to other Subjects.--Thus, a Person, who is happy in a particular Grace, which accompanies all his Actions, may be said to possess a singular and unavoidable Manner of doing or saying any thing, peculiar and natural to him only, by which his Speech and Actions are distinguished from those of other Men. And the same may be said of a Person of a peculiar Vivacity, Heaviness, or Awkwardness.--In short, this Description is suited to any Particularity of a Person in general, instead of being adapted to the Foibles and whimsical Oddities of Persons, which alone constitute Humour.
These are the only Pieces upon Wit, and Humour, which have fallen within my Knowledge; I have here fairly delivered them at length; and from the Respect which is due to such eminent Writers, have distinctly and deliberately examined the Merit of each.--As to my own Performance, which is now submitted to the Public, I have to wish, that it may gain a candid and strict Examination. It has been my Endeavour to give Definitions of the Subjects, upon which I have treated; A Plan the most difficult of all others to be executed by an Author; But such an one, as I apprehend, deserves to be xxvimore generally introduced, and established. If once it was expected by the Public, that Authors should strictly define their Subjects, it would instantly checque an Inundation of Scribbling. The desultory Manner of Writing would be absolutely exploded; and Accuracy and Precision would be necessarily introduced upon every Subject.
This is the Method pursued in Subjects of Philosophy; Without clear and precise Definitions such noble Advances could never have been made in those Sciences; And it is by the Assistance of these only, that Subjects of Polite Literature, can ever be enlightened and embellished with just Ornaments. If Definitions had been constantly exacted from Authors there would not have appeared one hundreth Part of the present Books, and yet every Subject had been better ascertained.--Nor will this Method, as some may imagine, be encumbered with Stiffness; On the contrary, in illustrating the Truth of Definitions there is a full Scope of the utmost Genius, Imagination, and Spirit of a Writer; and a Work upon this Plan is adorned with the highest Charms appearing with Propriety, Clearness, and Conviction, as well as Beauty.
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It is true, that the Difficulties, which attend an able Execution of this Method, are not open to a careless Eye; And it is some Mortification to an Author upon this Plan, that his greatest Merit is likely to lie concealed; A Definition, or Distinction, which after much Attention and Time he has happily delivered with Brevity and Clearness, appearing hereby quite obvious, to others, and what they cannot imagine could require Pains to discover.
As to the Examples, by which I have illustrated the Definition of Wit, they are common and trite; but are the best, which I could find upon deliberate Enquiry. Many Modern instances of Wit, which left very lively Impressions upon me, when I heard them, appearing upon Re-examination to be quite strained and defective. These, which I have given, as they are thus trite, are not designed in themselves for any Entertainment to the Reader; but being various, and distant from each other, they very properly serve to explain the Truth, and Extent of the Definition.
The Character of an Humourist, I expect, will be strange to most of my Readers; and if no Gentleman is acquainted with a Person of this Cast, it must pass for a Monxviiister of my own Creation;--As to the Character of Sir John Falstaff, it is chiefly extracted from Shakespear, in his 1st Part of King Henry the IVth; But so far as Sir John in Shakspear's Description, sinks into a Cheat or a Scoundrel, upon any Occasion, he is different from that Falstaff, who is designed in the following Essay, and is entirely an amiable Character.
It is obvious, that the Appearance, which Falstaff makes, in the unfinished Play of The Merry Wives of Windsor, is in general greatly below his true Character. His Imprisonment and Death in the latter Part of King Henry the IVth, seem also to have been written by Shakespear in Compliance with the Austerity of the Times; and in order to avoid the Imputation of encouraging Idleness and mirthful Riot by too amiable and happy an Example.
The Criticism, which I have made, upon Horace's Narrative of his Adventure with an Impertinent Fellow, I offer with Respect; And beg leave to observe that the chief Part which I object to, is the Propriety of his introducing himself in so ridiculous a Plight;
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----Dum sudor ad imos
Manaret Talos;
And
Demitto Auriculas, ut iniquæ mentis Acellus
Cum gravius dorso subiit onus.
And other Representations of the same sort, seem to place Horace in a very mean and ludicrous Light; which it is probable he never apprehended in the full Course of exposing his Companion;--Besides, the Conduct of his Adversary is in several Places, excessively, and, as it may be construed, designedly, insolent and contemptuous; and as no Merit or Importance belongs to this Person, there appears no Reason why Horace should endure such Treatment; or, if the other was too powerful for him, it is not an Adventure of Honour; or what Horace should chuse to expose to the World in this manner, with all the Particulars of his own despicable Distress.
However, the Mirth which results from this Narrative, as it now stands, is perhaps rather the stronger at first, by the full Ridicule which lies against Horace, and his Adversary;--But, upon Reflection, there arises a Disgust, at the Impropriety of Hoxxxrace's exposing his own Meanness, as well as at the nauseous Impudence of his Companion.
As to uncommon Words, if any such appear in this Introduction, or in the following Essay, I hope they want neither Propriety, Clearness, nor Strength;--And if the Length of this Piece to an Essay so short shall happen at first to disturb any Critic, I beg leave to inform him, that all, which can be fairly collected from it, is only, that it may have cost me the more Trouble;--But upon mentioning the Length of this Piece, what behoves me the most, is, to return my Thanks to two Gentlemen, who suffered me to read to them the whole, as it was gradually written; And by whose judicious and friendly Instructions in the Course of it, my own Imagination was often prevented from running into Riots.
However, I am far from imagining, that I have always been reduced within just Bounds; And now feel a sufficient Share of Concern and Anxiety, for the Fate of this Work;--Yet, I humbly apprehend, that this must freely be allowed me, that I have not been a Plagiary; But have constantly delivered my own original Sentiments, without purloining or disfiguring the Thoughts xxxi of others; An Honesty, which, I hope, is laudable in an Author; And as I have not stolen, neither have I concealed, the Merit of other Writers.
It will also be found, as I humbly apprehend, that I have never shunned the Subject: I mention this particularly, because it is the Practice of many eminent Writers, after much curvetting and prauncing, suddenly to wheel, and retire, when they are expected to make their most full Attack.-- These Gentlemen, it is true, very happily avoid Danger, and advance and retreat in excellent Order: But, with their Leave, I must observe that they never do any Execution; For Subjects, which have not been surveyed, and laid open, are like fortified Places; and it is the Business of a Writer, as well as of a Soldier, to make an Attack;--This has been the Conduct I have held in the following Essay; and however I may be shattered upon any Occasion, I hope it will appear (if I may be allowed the Expression) that I have fairly charged the Subjects.
Having offered these Circumstances in my Favour, I must frankly acknowledge, that I am not able to plead any Hurry or Precipitancy in the publishing of this Work, in Excuse of its Errors; Though I clearly unxxxiiderstand, that by making this Discovery, I absolutely deprive myself of the most genteel and fashionable Screen now used by Authors;--But I imagined, that it became me to spare no Labour or Attention upon a Work, which I should presume to offer to the World; Happening to esteem this Care and Concern, a Respect due to the Public, and the proper Species of Humility and Modesty in an Author.
ii
Whereas, if I rightly apprehend, an Ambition to excell is the Principle which should animate a Writer, directed by a Love of Truth, and a free Spirit of Candour and Inquiry. This is the Flame which should warm the rising Members of every Science, not a poor submission to those who have preceded. For, however it may be with a Religious Devotion, a Literary One is certainly the Child of Ignorance.
However, I must acknowledge, that where I have differed from the great Authors before mentioned, it has been with a Diffidence, and after the most serious and particular Examination of what they have delivered. It is from hence, that I have thought it my Duty, to exhibit with the following Essay, their several Performances upon the same Subject, that every Variation of mine from their Suffrage, and the Reasons upon which I have grounded it, may clearly appear.
The following Ode upon Wit is written by Mr. Cowley.
iii
O D E
O F
W I T.
I.
Tell me, oh tell!, what kind of Thing is Wit,
Thou who Master art of it;
For the first Matter loves Variety less;
Less Women love't, either in Love or Dress.
A thousand diff'rent Shapes it bears,
Comely in thousand Shapes appears;
Yonder we saw it plain, and here 'tis now,
Like Spirits in a Place, we know not how.
II.
London, that vents of false Ware so much Store,
In no Ware deceives us more;
For Men, led by the Colour, and the Shape,
Like Zeuxis' Bird, fly to the painted Grape.
Some things do through our Judgment pass,
As through a Multiplying Glass:
And sometimes, if the Object be too far,
We take a falling Meteor for a, Star.
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III.
Hence 'tis a Wit, that greatest Word of Fame,
Grows such a common Name;
And Wits, by our Creation, they become;
Just so as Tit'lar Bishops made at Rome.
'Tis not a Tale, 'tis not a Jest,
Admir'd with Laughter at a Feast,
Nor florid Talk which can that Title gain;
The Proofs of Wit for ever must remain.
IV.
'Tis not to force some Lifeless Verses meet,
With their five gouty Feet.
All ev'ry where, like Man's, must be the Soul,
And Reason the inferior Pow'rs controul.
Such were the Numbers which could call
The Stones into the Theban Wall.
Such Miracles are ceas'd, and now we see
No Towns or Houses rais'd by Poetry.
V.
Yet 'tis not to adorn, and gild each Part,
That shews more Cost than Art.
Jewels at Nose, and Lips, but ill appear;
Rather than all Things Wit, let none be there.
Several Lights will not be seen,
If there be nothing else between.
Men doubt; because they stand so thick i' th' Sky.
If those be Stars which paint the Galaxy.
v
VI.
'Tis not when two like Words make up one Noise;
Jests for Dutch Men, and English Boys.
In which, who finds out Wit, the same may see
In An'grams and Acrostiques Poetry.
Much less can that have any Place,
At which a Virgin hides her Face;
Such Dross the Fire must purge away; 'Tis just
The Author blush, there where the Reader must.
VII.
'Tis not such Lines as almost crack the Stage,
When Bajazet begins to rage;
Not a tall Metaphor in th' bombast Way,
Nor the dry Chips of short-lung'd Seneca.
Nor upon all Things to obtrude,
And force some odd Similitude.
What is it then, which like the Pow'r Divine,
We only can by Negatives define?
VIII.
In a true Piece of Wit, all Things must be,
Yet all Things there agree;
As in the Ark, join 'd without Force or Strife,
All Creatures dwelt; all Creatures that had Life.
Or as the primitive Forms of all,
(If we compare great Things with small)
vi Which without Discord or Confusion lie,
In the strange Mirror of the Deity.
IX.
But Love, that moulds one Man up out of two,
Makes me forget, and injure you.
I took You for Myself, sure when I thought
That You in any thing were to be taught.
Correct my Error with thy Pen,
And if any ask me then,
What thing right Wit, and Height of Genius is,
I'll only shew your Lines, and say, 'Tis this.
The Spirit and Wit of this Ode are excellent; and yet it is evident, through the whole, that Mr. Cowley had no clear Idea of Wit, though at the same time it shines in most of these Lines: There is little Merit in saying what Wit is not, which is the chief Part of this Ode. Towards the End, he indeed attempts to describe what it is, but is quite vague and perplex'd in his Description; and at last, instead of collecting his scatter'd Rays into a Focus, and exhibiting succinctly the clear Essence and Power of Wit, he drops the whole with a trite Compliment.
The learned Dr. Barrow, in his Sermon against foolish Talking and Jesting, gives the following profuse Description of Wit.
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But first it may be demanded, What the Thing we speak of is? Or what the Facetiousness (or Wit as he calls it before) doth import? To which Questions I might reply, as Democritus did to him that asked the Definition of a Man, 'Tis that we all see and know. Any one better apprehends what it is by Acquaintance, than I can inform him by Description. It is indeed a Thing so versatile and multiform, appearing in so many Shapes, so many Postures, so many Garbs, so variously apprehended by several Eyes and Judgments, that it seemeth no less hard to settle a clear and certain Notion thereof, than to make a Portrait of Proteus, or to define the Figure of the fleeting Air. Sometimes it lieth in pat Allusion to a known Story, or in seasonable Application of a trivial Saying, or in forging an apposite Tale: Sometimes it playeth in Words and Phrases, taking Advantage from the Ambiguity of their Sense, or the Affinity of their Sound: Sometimes it is wrapp'd in a Dress of humorous Expression: Sometimes it lurketh under an odd Similitude: Sometimes it is lodged in a sly Question, in a smart Answer, in a quirkish Reason, in a shrewd Intimation, in cunningly diverting, or cleverly retorting an Objection: viii Sometimes it is couched in a bold Scheme of Speech, in a tart Irony, in a lusty Hyperbole, in a startling Metaphor, in a plausible Reconciling of Contradictions, or in acute Nonsense; Sometimes a scenical Representation of Persons or Things, a counterfeit Speech, a mimical Look or Gesture passeth for it. Sometimes an affected Simplicity, sometimes a presumptuous Bluntness giveth it Being. Sometimes it riseth from a lucky Hitting upon what is Strange; sometimes from a crafty wresting obvious Matter to the Purpose. Often it' consisteth in one knows not what, and springeth up one can hardly tell how. Its ways are unaccountable, and inexplicable, being answerable to the numberless Rovings of Fancy, and Windings of Language. It is, in short, a Manner of Speaking out of the simple and plain Way (such as Reason teacheth, and proveth Things by) which by a pretty, surprizing Uncouthness in Conceit or Expression, doth affect and amuse the Fancy, stirring in it some Wonder, and breeding some Delight thereto. It raiseth Admiration, as signifying a nimble Sagacity of Apprehension, a special Felicity of Invention, a Vivacity of Spirit, and Reach of Wit, more than vulgar; it seeming to argue a rare b ix Quickness of Parts, that one can fetch in remote Conceits applicable; a notable Skill that he can dextrously accommodate them to the Purpose before him; together with a lively Briskness of Humour, not apt to damp those Sportful Flashes of Imagination. (Whence in Aristotle such Persons are termed epidexioi, dexterous Men, and eutropoi, Men of facile or versatile Manners, who can easily turn themselves to all Things, or turn all Things to themselves.) It also procureth Delight, by gratifying Curiosity with its Rareness, or Semblance of Difficulty. (As Monsters, not for their Beauty, but their Rarity; as juggling Tricks, not for their Use, but their Abstruseness, are beheld with Pleasure;) by diverting the Mind from its Road of serious Thoughts, by instilling Gaiety, and Airiness of Spirit; by provoking to such Disposition of Spirit in Way of Emulation, or Complaisance; and by seasoning Matters otherwise distasteful or insipid, with an unusual and thence grateful Tange.
This Description, it is easy to perceive, must have cost the Author of it a great deal of Labour. It is a very full Specimen of that Talent of entirely exhausting a Subject, for x which Dr. Barrow was remarkable; and if the Point was, to exhibit all the various Forms and Appearances, not of Wit only, but of Raillery, Satire, Sarcasms, and of every Kind of Poignancy and Pleasantry of Sentiment, and Expression, he seems to have perfectly succeeded; there being perhaps no Variety, in all the Extent of these Subjects, which he has not presented to View in this Description.--But he does not pretend to give any Definition of Wit, intimating rather that it is quite impossible to be given: And indeed from his Description of it, as a Proteus, appearing in numberless various Colours, and Forms; and from his mistaking, and presenting for Wit, other different Mixtures and Substances, it is evident that his Idea of it was quite confused and uncertain: It is true, he has discovered a vast Scope of Fertility of Genius, and an uncommon Power of collecting together a Multitude of Objects upon any Occasion, but he has here absolutely mistaken his work; for instead of exhibiting the Properties of Wit in a clearer Light, and confuting the false Claims which are made to it, he has made it his whole Business to perplex it the more, by introducing, from all Corners, a monstrous Troop of new unexpected Pretenders.
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Dryden, in the Preface to his Opera, entitled, The State of Innocence, or Fall of Man, gives the following Decree upon Wit.
The Definition of Wit, (which has been so often attempted, and ever unsuccessfully by many Poets) is only this: That it is a Propriety of Thoughts and Words; or in other Terms, Thoughts and Words elegantly adapted to the Subject.
If Mr. Dryden imagined, that he had succeeded himself in this Definition, he was extremely mistaken; for nothing can be more distant from the Properties of Wit, than those he describes. He discovers no Idea of the Surprize, and Brilliancy of Wit, or of the sudden Light thrown upon a Subject. Instead of once pointing at these, he only describes the Properties of clear Reasoning, which are a Propriety of Thoughts and Words;--Whereas Wit, in its sudden Flashes, makes no Pretension to Reasoning; but is perceived in the pleasant Surprize which it starts, and in the Light darted upon a Subject, which instantly vanishes again, without abiding a strict Examination.
The other Definition he gives, which is, Thoughts and Words elegantly adapted to the Subject, is very different from the former, but equally unhappy.
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For Propriety, in Thoughts and Words, consists in exhibiting clear, pertinent Ideas, in precise and perspicuous Words.
Whereas Elegance consists in the compt, well pruned and succinct Turn of a Subject.
The Object of the First, is to be clear, and perspicuous; whence it often appears in pursuit of these, not compt or succinct: Whereas the Essence of Elegance is to be compt and succinct, for the Sake of which Ornaments it often neglect Perspicuity, and Clearness.--In short, a Propriety of Thoughts and Words, may subsist without any Elegance; as an Elegance of Thoughts and Words may appear without a perfect Propriety.
The last Definition, as it is thus very different from the former is also equally unhappy: For Elegance is no essential Property of Wit. Pure Wit resulting solely from the quick Elucidation of one Subject, by the sudden Arrangement, and Comparison of it, with another Subject.--If the two Objects arranged together are elegant, and polite, there will then be superadded to the Wit, an Elegance and Politeness of Sentiment, which will render the Wit more amiable. But if the Objects are vulgar, obscene, or deformed, provided the first be elucidated, in a lively Manner, by, the sudden Arrangement of it with the second, there will be equally Wit; though, the xiii Indelicacy of Sentiment attending it, will render such Wit shocking and abominable.
It is with the highest Respect for the great Mr. Locke, that I deliver his Sentiments upon this Subject.
And hence, perhaps, may be given some Reason of that common Observation, that Men who have a great deal of Wit, and prompt Memories, have not always the clearest Judgment or deepest Reason: For Wit lying most in the Assemblage of Ideas, and putting those together with Quickness and Variety, wherein can be found any Assemblance or Congruity, thereby to make up pleasant Pictures, and agreeable Visions in the Fancy. Judgment, on the contrary, lies quite on the other side; in separating carefully one from another, Ideas, wherein can be found the least Difference, thereby to avoid being missed by Similitude, and by Affinity to take one thing for another. This is a Way of proceeding quite contrary to Metaphor and Allusion; wherein for the most Part lies that Entertainment and Pleasantry of Wit, which strikes so lively on the Fancy, and therefore is acceptable to all People, because its Beauty appears at first Sight, and there is required no Labour of Thoughts xiv to examine what Truth, or Reason, there is in it. The Mind, without looking any further, rests satisfied with the Agreeableness of the Picture, and the Gaiety of the Fancy. And it is a kind of an Affront to go about to examine it by the severe Rules of Truth, and good Reason, whereby it appears, that it conflicts in something that is not perfectly conformable to them.
It is to be observed that Mr. Locke has here only occasionally, and passantly, delivered his Sentiments upon this Subject; but yet he has very happily explained the chief Properties of Wit. It was his Remark First, that it lies for the most Part in assembling together with Quickness and Variety Objects, which possess an Affinity, or Congruity, with each other; which was the first just Information obtained by the literary World, upon this Subject.
As to what he adds, That the Intention, and Effects, of this Assemblage of similar Objects, is to make up pleasant Pictures, and agreeable Visions in the Fancy, it is, as I humbly apprehend, not quite perfect: For the Business of this Assemblage is not merely to raise pleasant Pictures in the Fancy, but also to enlighten thereby the original Subject.--This is evident; because in such xv Assemblages, the only Foundation upon which the new Subject is suddenly introduced, is the Affinity, and consequently the Illustration, it bears to the first Subject.--The Introduction of pleasant Pictures and Visions, which present not a new Illustration, and Light, to the original Subjects, being rather wild Sallies of Vivacity, than well-aimed, apposite Strokes of Wit.
It is Mr. Locke's Conclusion, at last, That Wit consists in something that is not perfectly conformable to Truth, and good Reason.--This is a Problem of some Curiosity; and I apprehend Mr. Locke's Determination upon it to be right:--For the Direction of Wit is absolutely different from the Direction of Truth and Good Reason; It being the Aim of Wit to strike the Imagination; of Truth and Good Reason, to convince the Judgment: From thence they can never be perfectly coincident.
It is however true, that there may be Instances of Wit, wherein the Agreement between the two Objects shall be absolutely just, and perceived to be such at the first Glance. Such Instances of Wit, will be then also Self- evident Truths. They will both agree in their obvious, and quick Perspicuity; but will be still different in this, that the Effort of the One is to strike the xvi Fancy, whereas the Other is wholly exerted in gratifying the Judgment.
The Sentiments of Mr. Addison upon Wit, are professedly delivered in the Spectator Nº. 62. annexed to the following Essay. He has there justly commended Mr. Locke's Description of Wit; but what he adds, by Way of Explanation to it, that the Assemblage of Ideas must be such as shall give Delight, and Surprize, is not true, in regard to the Former, Delight being no essential Property of Wit; for if the original Subject be unpleasant, or deformed, the sudden unexpected Arrangement of a similar Object with it, may give us Surprize, and be indisputably Wit, and yet be far from creating any Delight.
This Gentleman has also given the following Example, in order to illustrate the Necessity there is, that Surprize should be always an Attendant upon Wit. "When a Poet tells us, the Bosom of his Mistress is as white as Snow, there is no Wit in the Comparison; but when he adds, with a Sigh, that it as cold too, it then grows to Wit." --To compare a Girl's Bosom to Snow for its Whiteness I apprehend to be Wit, notwithstanding the Authority of so great a Writer to the contrary. For there is a Lustre resulting from the natural and c xvii splendid Agreement between these Objects, which will always produce Wit; such, as cannot be destroyed, though it will quickly be rendered trite, by frequent Repetition.
This Problem, How far Surprize is, or is not, necessary to Wit, I humbly apprehend, may be thus solved.--In Subjects which have a natural and splendid Agreement, there will always be Wit upon their Arrangement together; though when it becomes trite, and not accompanied with Surprize, the Lustre will be much faded;--But where the Agreement is forced and strained, Novelty and Surprize are absolutely necessary to usher it in; An unexpected Assemblage of this Sort, striking our Fancy, and being gaily admitted at first to be Wit; which upon frequent Repetition, the Judgment will have examined, and rise up against it wherever it appears;--So that in short, in Instances where the Agreement is strained and defective, which indeed are abundantly the most general, Surprize is a necessary Passport to Wit; but Surprize is not necessary to Wit, where the Agreement between the two Subjects is natural and splendid; though in these Instances it greatly heightens the Brillancy.
The subsequent Remark of Mr. Addison, That the Poet, after saying his Mistress's xviii Bosom is as white as Snow, should add, with a Sigh, that it is as cold too, in order that it may grow to Wit, is I fear, very incorrect. For as to the Sigh, it avails not a Rush; and this Addition will be found to be only a new Stroke of Wit, equally trite, and less perfect, and natural, than the former Comparison.
It may also be observed, That Mr. Addison has omitted the Elucidation of the original Subject, which is the grand Excellence of Wit. Nor has he prescribed any Limits to the Subjects, which are to be arranged together; without which the Result will be frequently the Sublime or Burlesque; In which, it is true, Wit often appears, but taking their whole Compositions together, they are different Substances, and usually ranked in different Classes.
All that Mr. Congreve has delivered upon Wit, as far as I know, appears in his Essay upon Humour, annexed to this Treatise. He there says, "To define Humour, perhaps, were as difficult, as to define Wit; for, like that, it is of infinite Variety". --Again, he afterwards adds, "But though we cannot certainly tell what Wit is, or what Humour is, yet we may go near to shew something, which is not Wit, or not Humour, and yet often c2 xix mistaken for both". --In this Essay, wherein he particularly considers Humour, and the Difference between this, and Wit, he may be expected to have delivered his best Sentiments upon both: But these Words, which I have quoted, seem to be as important and precise, as any which he has offered upon the Subject of Wit. As such, I present them, without any Remarks, to my Reader, who, if he only goes near to be edified by them, will discover a great Share of Sagacity.
The Sentiments of these eminent Writers upon Wit, having thus been exhibited, I come next to the Subject of Humour. This has been defined by some, in the following Manner, with great Perspicuity.-- Humour is the genuine Wit of Comedies,--which has afforded vast Satisfaction to many Connoissures in the Belles Lettres; especially as Wit has been supposed to be incapable of any Definition.
This Subject has also been particularly considered by the Spectatator Nº. 35. inserted at the End of the following Essay. Mr. Addison therein gravely remarks, that "It is indeed much easier to describe what is not Humour, than what it is;" which, I humbly apprehend, is no very important Piece of Information.--He adds, "And xx very difficult to define it otherwise, than as Cowly has done Wit, by Negatives." This Notion of defining a Subject by Negatives, is a favourite Crotchet, and may perhaps be assumed upon other Occasions by future Writers: I hope therefore I shall be pardoned, if I offer a proper Explanation of so good a Conceit;--To declare then, That a Subject is only to be Defined by Negatives, is to cloath it in a respectable Dress of Darkness. And about as much as to say, That it is a Knight of tenebrose Virtues; or a serene Prince, of the Blood of Occult Qualities.
Mr. Addison proceeds, "Were I to give my own Notions of Humour, I should 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". --It is very unfortunate for this Allegorical Description, that there is not one Word of it just: For Truth, Good Sense, Wit, and Mirth, represented to be the immediate xxi Ancestors of Humour; whereas Humour is derived from the Foibles, and whimsical Oddities of Persons in real Life, which flow rather from their Inconsistencies, and Weakness, than from Truth and Good Sense; Nor is Wit any Ancestor of Humour, but of a quite different Family; it being notorious that much Humour may be drawn from the Manners of Dutchmen, and of the most formal and dull Persons, who are yet never guilty of Wit. Again, Mirth is not so properly the Parent of Humour, as the Offspring.--In short, this whole Genealogy is a nubilous Piece of Conceit, instead of being any Elucidation of Humour. It is a formal Method of trifling, introduced under a deep Ostentation of Learning, which deserves the severest Rebuke.--But I restrain my Pen, recollecting the Visions of Mirza, and heartily profess my high Veneration for their admirable Author.
The Essay upon Humour, at the End of this Treatise, written by Mr. Congreve, is next to be considered. It appears, that at first he professes his absolute Uncertainty in regard to this Subject; and says, "We cannot certainly tell what Wit is, or what Humour is." But yet, through his whole Piece, he neglects the Subject of Humour in general, and only discourses upon the xxiiHumour, by which he means barely the Disposition, of Persons: This may particularly appear from the following Words.
"A Man may change his Opinion, but I believe he will find it a Difficulty to part with his Humour; and there is nothing more provoking than the being made sensible of that Difficulty. Sometimes we shall meet with those, who perhaps indifferently enough, but at the same time impertinently, will ask the Question, Why are you not merry? Why are you not gay, pleasant, and chearful? Then instead of answering, could I ask such a Person, Why are you not handsome? Why have you not black Eyes, and a better Complexion? Nature abhors to be forced.
"The two famous Philosophers of Ephesus and Abdera, have their different Sects at this Day. Some weep, and others laugh at one and the same Thing.
"I don't doubt but you have observed several Men laugh when they are angry; others, who are silent; some that are loud; yet I cannot suppose that it is the Passion of Anger, which is in itself different, or more or less in one than t'other, but that it is the Humour of the Man that is predominant, and urges him to express it xxiiiin that Manner. Demonstrations of Pleasure, are as various: One Man has a Humour of retiring from all Company, when any thing has happened to please him beyond Expectation; he hugs himself alone, and thinks it an Addition to the Pleasure to keep it a Secret, &c."
All which, I apprehend, is no more than saying; That there are different Dispositions in different Persons.
In another Place, he seems to understand by Humour, not only the Disposition, but the Tone of the Nerves, of a Person, thus,
"Suppose Morose to be a Man naturally splenetic, and melancholy; is there any thing more offensive to one of such a Disposition (where he uses the Word instead of Humour) than Noise and Clamour? Let any Man that has the Spleen (and there are enough in England) be Judge. We see common Examples of this Humour in little every Day. 'Tis ten to one, but three Parts in four of the Company you dine with, are discomposed, and started at the cutting of a Cork, or scratching of a Plate with a Knife; it is a Proportion of the same Humour, that makes such, or any other Noise, offensive to the Person that hears it; for there are others who will not be disturbed at all xxivby it."
At this Rate every Weakness of Nerves, or Particularity of Constitution, is Humour.
It is true, he justly points out in another Place the different Sentiments, which ought to be adapted to different Characters in Comedy, according to their different Dispositions, or, as he phrases it, Humours: As for Instance, he very rightly observes, That a Character of a splenetic and peevish Humour, Should have a satirical Wit. A jolly and sanguine Humour should have a facetious Wit. --But still this is no Description of what is well felt, and known, by the general Name of Humour.
However, as what I have already quoted, may appear to be only his looser Explanations, it will be necessary to deliver his more closed and collected Sentiments upon this Subject. These he gives in the following Words,
"I should be unwilling to venture, even in a bare Description of Humour, much more to make a Definition of it; but now my Hand is in, I will tell you what serves me instead of either. I take it to be, A singular and unavoidable Manner of doing or saying any thing, peculiar and natural to one Man only, by which his Speech and Actions are distinguished from those of other Men."
--This d xxv Description is very little applicable to Humour, but tolerably well adapted to other Subjects.--Thus, a Person, who is happy in a particular Grace, which accompanies all his Actions, may be said to possess a singular and unavoidable Manner of doing or saying any thing, peculiar and natural to him only, by which his Speech and Actions are distinguished from those of other Men. And the same may be said of a Person of a peculiar Vivacity, Heaviness, or Awkwardness.--In short, this Description is suited to any Particularity of a Person in general, instead of being adapted to the Foibles and whimsical Oddities of Persons, which alone constitute Humour.
These are the only Pieces upon Wit, and Humour, which have fallen within my Knowledge; I have here fairly delivered them at length; and from the Respect which is due to such eminent Writers, have distinctly and deliberately examined the Merit of each.--As to my own Performance, which is now submitted to the Public, I have to wish, that it may gain a candid and strict Examination. It has been my Endeavour to give Definitions of the Subjects, upon which I have treated; A Plan the most difficult of all others to be executed by an Author; But such an one, as I apprehend, deserves to be xxvimore generally introduced, and established. If once it was expected by the Public, that Authors should strictly define their Subjects, it would instantly checque an Inundation of Scribbling. The desultory Manner of Writing would be absolutely exploded; and Accuracy and Precision would be necessarily introduced upon every Subject.
This is the Method pursued in Subjects of Philosophy; Without clear and precise Definitions such noble Advances could never have been made in those Sciences; And it is by the Assistance of these only, that Subjects of Polite Literature, can ever be enlightened and embellished with just Ornaments. If Definitions had been constantly exacted from Authors there would not have appeared one hundreth Part of the present Books, and yet every Subject had been better ascertained.--Nor will this Method, as some may imagine, be encumbered with Stiffness; On the contrary, in illustrating the Truth of Definitions there is a full Scope of the utmost Genius, Imagination, and Spirit of a Writer; and a Work upon this Plan is adorned with the highest Charms appearing with Propriety, Clearness, and Conviction, as well as Beauty.
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It is true, that the Difficulties, which attend an able Execution of this Method, are not open to a careless Eye; And it is some Mortification to an Author upon this Plan, that his greatest Merit is likely to lie concealed; A Definition, or Distinction, which after much Attention and Time he has happily delivered with Brevity and Clearness, appearing hereby quite obvious, to others, and what they cannot imagine could require Pains to discover.
As to the Examples, by which I have illustrated the Definition of Wit, they are common and trite; but are the best, which I could find upon deliberate Enquiry. Many Modern instances of Wit, which left very lively Impressions upon me, when I heard them, appearing upon Re-examination to be quite strained and defective. These, which I have given, as they are thus trite, are not designed in themselves for any Entertainment to the Reader; but being various, and distant from each other, they very properly serve to explain the Truth, and Extent of the Definition.
The Character of an Humourist, I expect, will be strange to most of my Readers; and if no Gentleman is acquainted with a Person of this Cast, it must pass for a Monxviiister of my own Creation;--As to the Character of Sir John Falstaff, it is chiefly extracted from Shakespear, in his 1st Part of King Henry the IVth; But so far as Sir John in Shakspear's Description, sinks into a Cheat or a Scoundrel, upon any Occasion, he is different from that Falstaff, who is designed in the following Essay, and is entirely an amiable Character.
It is obvious, that the Appearance, which Falstaff makes, in the unfinished Play of The Merry Wives of Windsor, is in general greatly below his true Character. His Imprisonment and Death in the latter Part of King Henry the IVth, seem also to have been written by Shakespear in Compliance with the Austerity of the Times; and in order to avoid the Imputation of encouraging Idleness and mirthful Riot by too amiable and happy an Example.
The Criticism, which I have made, upon Horace's Narrative of his Adventure with an Impertinent Fellow, I offer with Respect; And beg leave to observe that the chief Part which I object to, is the Propriety of his introducing himself in so ridiculous a Plight;
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----Dum sudor ad imos
Manaret Talos;
And
Demitto Auriculas, ut iniquæ mentis Acellus
Cum gravius dorso subiit onus.
And other Representations of the same sort, seem to place Horace in a very mean and ludicrous Light; which it is probable he never apprehended in the full Course of exposing his Companion;--Besides, the Conduct of his Adversary is in several Places, excessively, and, as it may be construed, designedly, insolent and contemptuous; and as no Merit or Importance belongs to this Person, there appears no Reason why Horace should endure such Treatment; or, if the other was too powerful for him, it is not an Adventure of Honour; or what Horace should chuse to expose to the World in this manner, with all the Particulars of his own despicable Distress.
However, the Mirth which results from this Narrative, as it now stands, is perhaps rather the stronger at first, by the full Ridicule which lies against Horace, and his Adversary;--But, upon Reflection, there arises a Disgust, at the Impropriety of Hoxxxrace's exposing his own Meanness, as well as at the nauseous Impudence of his Companion.
As to uncommon Words, if any such appear in this Introduction, or in the following Essay, I hope they want neither Propriety, Clearness, nor Strength;--And if the Length of this Piece to an Essay so short shall happen at first to disturb any Critic, I beg leave to inform him, that all, which can be fairly collected from it, is only, that it may have cost me the more Trouble;--But upon mentioning the Length of this Piece, what behoves me the most, is, to return my Thanks to two Gentlemen, who suffered me to read to them the whole, as it was gradually written; And by whose judicious and friendly Instructions in the Course of it, my own Imagination was often prevented from running into Riots.
However, I am far from imagining, that I have always been reduced within just Bounds; And now feel a sufficient Share of Concern and Anxiety, for the Fate of this Work;--Yet, I humbly apprehend, that this must freely be allowed me, that I have not been a Plagiary; But have constantly delivered my own original Sentiments, without purloining or disfiguring the Thoughts xxxi of others; An Honesty, which, I hope, is laudable in an Author; And as I have not stolen, neither have I concealed, the Merit of other Writers.
It will also be found, as I humbly apprehend, that I have never shunned the Subject: I mention this particularly, because it is the Practice of many eminent Writers, after much curvetting and prauncing, suddenly to wheel, and retire, when they are expected to make their most full Attack.-- These Gentlemen, it is true, very happily avoid Danger, and advance and retreat in excellent Order: But, with their Leave, I must observe that they never do any Execution; For Subjects, which have not been surveyed, and laid open, are like fortified Places; and it is the Business of a Writer, as well as of a Soldier, to make an Attack;--This has been the Conduct I have held in the following Essay; and however I may be shattered upon any Occasion, I hope it will appear (if I may be allowed the Expression) that I have fairly charged the Subjects.
Having offered these Circumstances in my Favour, I must frankly acknowledge, that I am not able to plead any Hurry or Precipitancy in the publishing of this Work, in Excuse of its Errors; Though I clearly unxxxiiderstand, that by making this Discovery, I absolutely deprive myself of the most genteel and fashionable Screen now used by Authors;--But I imagined, that it became me to spare no Labour or Attention upon a Work, which I should presume to offer to the World; Happening to esteem this Care and Concern, a Respect due to the Public, and the proper Species of Humility and Modesty in an Author.
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