{"collection":"philosophy-ethics","full_text_available":true,"graph_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/api/page/gutenberg_18300/graph","html_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/page/gutenberg_18300","id":"gutenberg_18300","license":"Public Domain (US)","rights_basis":"gutenberg_metadata_copyright_false","source":"gutenberg","source_url":"https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/18300","summary":null,"tags":["Category: History - British","Category: Humour","Category: Philosophy & Ethics","Category: Psychiatry/Psychology","English wit and humor -- History and criticism","Wit and humor -- History and criticism"],"text":"E-text prepared by Barbara Tozier, Janet Blenkinship, Bill Tozier, and the\nProject Gutenberg Online Distributed Proofreading Team\n(http://www.pgdp.net/)\n\n\n\nHISTORY OF ENGLISH HUMOUR\n\nWith an Introduction upon Ancient Humour.\n\nby\n\nTHE REV. A. G. L'ESTRANGE,\n\nAuthor of\n\"The Life of the Rev. William Harness,\"\n\"From the Thames to the Tamar,\"\nEtc.\n\nIn Two Volumes.\n\nVol. I.\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\nLondon:\nHurst and Blackett, Publishers,\n13, Great Marlborough Street.\n1878.\nAll rights reserved.\n\n\n\n\nCONTENTS OF THE FIRST VOLUME.\n\n\n  PRELIMINARY OBSERVATIONS.\n\n  Subjective Character of the Ludicrous--The Subject little\n  Studied--Obstacles to the Investigation--Evanescence--Mental\n  Character of the Ludicrous--Distinction between\n  Humour and the Ludicrous                                                1\n\n\n  INTRODUCTION.\n\n  PART I.\n\n  ORIGIN OF HUMOUR.\n\n  Pleasure in Humour--What is Laughter?--Sympathy--First\n  Phases--Gradual Development--Emotional Phase--Laughter\n  of Pleasure--Hostile Laughter--Is there any sense of the Ludicrous\n  in the Lower Animals?--Samson--David--Solomon--Proverbs--Fables        13\n\n  PART II.\n\n  GREEK HUMOUR.\n\n  Birth of Humour--Personalities--Story of Hippocleides--Origin\n  of Comedy--Archilochus--Hipponax--Democritus,\n  the Laughing Philosopher--Aristophanes--Humour\n  of the Senses--Indelicacy--Enfeeblement of the Drama--Humorous\n  Games--Parasites, their Position and Jests--Philoxenus--Diogenes--Court\n  of Humour--Riddles--Silli                                              52\n\n\n  PART III.\n\n  ROMAN HUMOUR.\n\n  Roman Comedy--Plautus--Acerbity--Terence--Satire--Lucilius--Horace\n  --Humour of the Caesar Family--Cicero--Augustus--Persius--Petronius\n  --Juvenal--Martial--Epigrammatist--Lucian--Apuleius--Julian\n  the Apostate--The Misopogon--Symposius' Enigmas--Macrobius--Hierocles\n  and Philagrius                                                         99\n\n\n  ENGLISH HUMOUR.\n\n  CHAPTER I.\n\n  MIDDLE AGES.\n\n  Relapse of Civilization in the Middle Ages--Stagnation of\n  Mind--Scarcity of Books--Character of reviving Literature--Religious\n  Writings--Fantastic Legends--Influence\n  of the Crusades--Romances--Sir Bevis of Hamptoun--Prominence\n  of the Lower Animals--Allegories                                      161\n\n  CHAPTER II.\n\n  Anglo-Saxon Humour--Rhyme--Satires against the Church--The\n  Brunellus--Walter Mapes--Goliardi--Piers the\n  Ploughman--Letters of Obscure Men--Erasmus--The\n  Praise of Folly--Skelton--The Ship of Fools--Doctour\n  Doubble Ale--The Sak full of Nuez--Church Ornamentation--Representations\n  of the Devil                                                          179\n\n  CHAPTER III.\n\n  Origin of Modern Comedy--Ecclesiastical Buffoonery--Jougleurs\n  and Minstrels--Court Fools--Monks' Stories--The\n  \"Tournament of Tottenham\"--Chaucer--Heywood--Roister\n  Doister--Gammer Gurton                                                211\n\n  CHAPTER IV.\n\n  Robert Greene--Friar Bacon's Demons--The \"Looking\n  Glasse\"--Nash and Harvey                                              231\n\n  CHAPTER V.\n\n  Donne--Hall--Fuller                                                   243\n\n  CHAPTER VI.\n\n  Shakespeare--Ben Jonson--Beaumont and Fletcher--The\n  Wise Men of Gotham                                                    250\n\n  CHAPTER VII.\n\n  Jesters--Court of Queen Elizabeth--James I.--The\n  \"Counterblasts to Tobacco\"--Puritans--Charles II.\n  --Rochester--Buckingham--Dryden--Butler                               271\n\n  CHAPTER VIII.\n\n  Comic Drama of the Restoration--Etheridge--Wycherley                  303\n\n  CHAPTER IX.\n\n  Tom Brown--His Prose Works--Poetry--Sir Richard\n  Blackmore--D'Urfey--Female Humorists--Carey                           312\n\n  CHAPTER X.\n\n  Vanbrugh--Colley Cibber--Farquhar                                     340\n\n  CHAPTER XI.\n\n  Congreve--Lord Dorset                                                 355\n\n\n\n\nHISTORY OF ENGLISH HUMOUR.\n\n\n\n\nPRELIMINARY OBSERVATIONS.\n\nSubjective Character of the Ludicrous--The Subject little\n  Studied--Obstacles to the Investigation--Evanescence--Mental Character\n  of the Ludicrous--Distinction between Humour and the Ludicrous.\n\n\nThe ludicrous is in its character so elusive and protean, and the field\nover which it extends is so vast, that few have ever undertaken the task\nof examining it systematically. Many philosophers and literary men have\nmade passing observations upon it, but most writers are content to set\nit down as one of those things which cannot be understood, and care not\nto study and grapple with a subject which promises small results in\nreturn for considerable toil. Moreover, the inquiry does not seem\nsufficiently important to warrant the expenditure of much time upon it,\nand there has always been a great tendency among learned men to\nunderrate the emotional feelings of our nature. Thus it comes to pass\nthat a much larger amount of our labour has been expended upon inquiring\ninto physical and intellectual constitution than upon the inner workings\nof our passions and sentiments, for our knowledge of which, though\naffecting our daily conduct, we are mostly indebted to the\nrepresentations of poets and novelists. Beattie well observes that\nnothing is below the attention of a philosopher which the Author of\nNature has been pleased to establish. Investigations of this kind would\nnot be unrewarded, nor devoid of a certain amount of interest; and I\nthink that in the present subject we can, by perseverance, penetrate a\nlittle distance into an almost untrodden and apparently barren region,\nand if we cannot reach the source from whence the bright waters spring,\ncan at least obtain some more accurate information about the surrounding\ncountry.\n\nNotwithstanding all the obstructions and discouragements in the way of\nthis investigation a few great men have given it a certain amount of\nattention. Aristotle informs us in his \"Rhetoric\" that he has dealt\nfully with the subject in his Poetics, and although the treatise is\nunfortunately lost, some annotations remain which show that it was of a\ncomprehensive character. Cicero and Quintilian in their instructions in\nOratory, made the study of humour a necessary part of the course, and\nin modern days many ingenious definitions and descriptions of it are\nfound among the pages of general literature. Most philosophers have\ntouched the subject timidly and partially, unwilling to devote much time\nto it, and have rather stated what they thought ought to be in\naccordance with some pet theories of their own, than drawn deductions\nfrom careful analysis. They generally only looked at one phase of the\nludicrous, at one kind of humour, and had not a sufficient number of\nexamples before them--probably from the difficulty of recalling slight\nturns of thought in widely scattered subjects. Add to this, that many of\nthem--constantly immersed in study--would have had some little\ndifficulty in deciding what did and did not deserve the name of humour.\nMost of their definitions are far too wide, and often in supporting a\ntheory they make remarks which tend to refute it. The imperfect\ntreatment, which the subject had received, led Dugald Stewart to observe\nthat it was far from being exhausted.\n\nThe two principal publications which have appeared on humour, are\nFloegel's \"Geschichte der Komischen Litteratur\" (1786), and Leon Dumont's\n\"Les Causes du Rire.\" The former is voluminous, but scarcely touches on\nphilosophy, without which such a work can have but little coherence.\nThe latter shows considerable psychological knowledge, but is written to\nsupport a somewhat narrow and incomplete view. Mr. Wright's excellent\nbook on \"The Grotesque in Literature and Art,\" is, as the name suggests,\nprincipally concerned with broad humour, and does not so much trace its\nsource as the effects it has produced upon mankind. Mr. Cowden Clark's\ncontributions on the subject to the \"Gentleman's Magazine,\" are mostly\ninteresting from their biographical notices.\n\nTo analyse and classify all the vagaries of the human imagination which\nmay be comprehended under the denomination of humour, is no easy task,\nand as it is multiform we may stray into devious paths in pursuing it.\nBut vast and various as the subject seems to be, there cannot be much\ndoubt that there are some laws which govern it, and that it can be\nbrought approximately under certain heads. It seems to be as generally\nadmitted that there are different kinds of humour as that some\nobservations possess none at all. Moreover, when remarks of a certain\nkind are made, especially such as show confusion or exaggeration, we\noften seem to detect some conditions of humour, and by a little change\nare able to make something, which has more or less the character of a\njest.\n\nThere is in this investigation a very formidable \"Dweller on the\nThreshold.\" We contend with great disadvantages in any attempts to\nexamine our mental constitution. When we turn the mind in upon itself,\nand make it our object, the very act of earnest reflection obscures the\nidea, or destroys the emotion we desire to contemplate. This is\nespecially the case in the present instance. The ludicrous, when we\nattempt to grasp it, shows off its gay and motley garb, and appears in\ngrave attire. It is only by abstracting our mind from the inquiry, and\nthrowing it into lighter considerations, that we can at all retain the\nillusion. A clever sally appears brilliant when it breaks suddenly upon\nthe mental vision, but when it is brought forward for close examination\nit loses half its lustre, and seems to melt into unsubstantial air.\nHumour may be compared to a delicate scent, which we only perceive at\nthe first moment, or to evanescent beauty--\n\n  \"For every touch that wooed its stay\n   Has brushed its brightest hues away.\"\n\nThis last simile is especially in point here, and the quotations in this\nbook will scarcely be found humorous, so long as they are regarded as\nmere illustrations of the nature of humour.\n\nWe need not--taking these matters into consideration--feel much\nsurprised that some people say the ludicrous cannot be defined; as for\ninstance, Buckingham,\n\n  \"True wit is everlasting like the sun,\n   Describing all men, but described by none;\"\n\nand Addison:--\"It is much easier to decide what is not humorous than\nwhat is, and very difficult to define it otherwise than Cowley has done,\nby negatives\"--the only meaning of which is that the subject is\nsurrounded with rather more than the usual difficulties attending moral\nand psychological researches. Similar obstacles would be encountered in\nanswering the question, \"What is poetry?\" or \"What is love?\" We can only\nsay that even here there must be some surroundings by which we can\nincrease our knowledge.\n\nHumour is the offspring of man--it comes forth like Minerva fully armed\nfrom the brain. Our sense of the ludicrous is produced by our peculiar\nmental constitution, and not by external objects, in which there is\nnothing either absurd or serious. As when the action of our mind is\nimperceptible--for instance, in hearing and seeing with our \"bodily\"\nsenses--we think what we notice is something in the external world,\nalthough it is only so far dependent upon it that it could not exist\nwithout some kind of outer influence, so the result of our not\nrecognising the amusing action of the mind in the ludicrous is that we\nregard it as a quality resident in the persons and things we\ncontemplate.[1] But it does not belong to these things, and is totally\ndifferent from them in kind. Thus, the rose is formed of certain\ncombinations of earth, air, and water; yet none of these dull elements\npossess the fragrance or beauty of the flower. These properties come\nfrom some attractive and constructive power. Not only are there no types\nor patterns in things of our emotions, but there are none even of our\nsensations; heat and cold, red or blue, are such only for our\nconstitution. This truth is beautifully set forth by Addison in a\npassage in which, as Dugald Stewart justly remarks, \"We are at a loss\nwhether most to admire the author's depth and refinement of thought, or\nthe singular felicity of fancy displayed in its illustration.\" \"Things,\"\nhe observes, \"would make but a poor appearance to the eye, if we saw\nthem only in their proper figures and motions. And what reason can we\nassign for their exciting in us many of those ideas which are different\nfrom anything that exists in the objects themselves (for such are light\nand colours) were it not to add supernumerary ornaments to the universe,\nand make it more agreeable to the imagination? We are everywhere\nentertained with pleasing shows and apparitions. We discover imaginary\nglories in the heavens and on the earth, and see some of this visionary\nbeauty poured out over the whole creation. But what a rough, unsightly\nsketch of Nature should we be entertained with, did all her colouring\ndisappear, and the several distinctions of light and shade vanish! In\nshort, our souls are delightfully lost and bewildered in a pleasing\ndelusion, and we walk about like the enchanted hero of a romance, who\nsees beautiful castles, woods, and meadows, and at the same time hears\nthe warbling of birds and the purling of streams; but upon the finishing\nof some secret spell, the fantastic scene breaks up, and the\ndisconsolate knight finds himself on a barren heath, or in a solitary\ndesert.\"\n\nI have introduced these considerations, because it is very difficult for\nus to realize that what we behold is merely phenomenal, that\n\n     \"Things are not what they seem;\"\n\nbut that we are looking into the mirror of Nature at our own likeness.\nWhen we speak of a ludicrous occurrence, we cannot avoid thinking that\nthe external events themselves contain something of that character.\nThus, the ludicrous has come in our ideas and language to be separated\nfrom the sense in which alone it exists, and it is desirable that we\nshould clearly understand that the distinction is only logical and not\nreal.\n\nWhen the cause of our laughter--be it mind, matter, or imaginary\ncircumstance--is merely regarded as something incongruous and amusing,\nwe name it the ludicrous, and a man is called ludicrous as faulty or\ncontemptible. But when the cause of it is viewed as something more than\nthis, as coming from some conscious power or tendency within us--a\nvaluable gift and an element in our mental constitution--we call it\nhumour, a term applied only to human beings and their productions; and a\nman is called humorous as worthy of commendation. Both are in truth\nfeelings--we might say one feeling--and although we can conceive humour\nto exist apart from the ludicrous, and to be a power within us creating\nit, there is a difficulty in following out the distinction. The\ndifference between them is in our regard.\n\nAs soon as in course of time it became plainly evident that gay\ncreations might emanate from man, and not only from the outer world, the\nfact was marked by the formation of a distinctive name, and by degrees\nseveral names--among which the most comprehensive in English is Humour.\nThis kind of gift became gradually known as more or less possessed by\nall, and when the operations of the mind came to be recognised, we were\nmore enlightened on the subject, and acknowledged it to be a mental and\ncreative power. Such admissions would not be made by men in general\nwithout some very strong evidence, and therefore a humorous man was not\nmerely one who had an internal sense of the ludicrous, but one who\nemployed it for the delectation of others. Hence, also, though there is\nno consciousness of being amusing in the man who is ludicrous, there is\nin one that is humorous. A wit must always be pleasant intentionally. A\nman who in sober seriousness recounts something which makes us laugh is\nnot humorous, although his want of discrimination may not be sufficient\nto make him ludicrous. Children are not regarded as humorous, for,\nalthough they enjoy such simple humour as toys afford, they very seldom\nnotice what is merely ludicrous, and do not reproduce it in any way; and\nthe same may be said of many grown persons, who require to be fed as it\nwere, and although they can enjoy what is embellished by others, have no\noriginal observation. Thus, although Herbert Mayo is substantially\ncorrect in saying that \"humour is the sentiment of the ludicrous,\" he\nmight have added that there is a difference between the two in our\nknowledge of them. In the former, the creative mind is more marked, and,\na man though he laughs much, if he be dull in words is only considered\nto have mirth, _i.e._, joyousness or a sense of the ludicrous, not\nhumour. The gift can only be brought prominently forward in speech or\nwriting, and thus humour comes to be often regarded as a kind of\ningredient or seasoning in a speech or book, if not actually synonymous\nwith certain sentences or expressions. Still we always confine the name\nto human productions, as, for instance, gestures, sayings, writings,\npictures, and plays.\n\nThe recognition of the mental character of humour did not necessarily\nimply any knowledge as to the authority, instability, or constancy of\nthe feeling--that could only be acquired by philosophical investigation.\nNor have we yet so far ascertained its character as to be able to form\nhumorous fancies upon any fixed principle. We are guided by some sense\nof the ludicrous which we cannot analyse; or we introduce into new and\nsimilar cases relationships in things which we have observed to be\namusing. Some forms are so general that they will produce a vast number\nof jests, and we thus seem to have some insight into the influences that\nawaken humour, but we see only approximately and superficially, and can\nmerely produce good results occasionally--rather by an accident than\nwith any certainty.\n\n\n\n\nINTRODUCTION.\n\nPART I.\n\nORIGIN OF HUMOUR.\n\nPleasure in Humour--What is Laughter?--Sympathy--First Phases--Gradual\n  Development--Emotional Phase--Laughter of Pleasure--Hostile\n  Laughter--Is there any sense of the Ludicrous in the Lower\n  Animals?--Samson--David--Solomon--Proverbs--Fables.\n\n\nFew of the blessings we enjoy are of greater value than the gift of\nhumour. The pleasure attendant upon it attracts us together, forms an\nincentive, and gives a charm to social intercourse, and, unlike the\nconcentrating power of love, scatters bright rays in every direction.\nThat humour is generally associated with enjoyment might be concluded\nfrom the fact that the genial and good-natured are generally the most\nmirthful, and we all have so much personal experience of the\ngratification it affords, that it seems superfluous to adduce any proofs\nupon the subject. \"Glad\" is from the Greek word for laughter, and the\nword \"jocund\" comes from a Latin term signifying \"pleasant.\" But we can\ntrace the results of this connection in our daily observation. How comes\nit to pass that many a man who is the life and soul of social\ngatherings, and keeps his friends in delighted applause, sits, when\nalone in his study, grave and sedate, and seldom, if ever, smiles in\nreading or meditation? Is it not because humour is a source of pleasure?\nWe are not joyously disposed when alone, whereas in society we are ready\nto give and receive whatever is bright and cheering.\n\nThe first question which now presents itself is what is laughter? and\nour answer must be that it is a change of countenance accompanied by a\nspasmodic intermittent sound--a modification of the voice--but that we\ncannot trace its physical origin farther than to attribute it to some\neffect produced upon the sympathetic nerve, or rather the system of\nnerves termed respiratory. These communicate with every organ affected\nin mirth, but the ultimate connection between mind and body is hidden\nfrom our view.\n\nIn all laughter there is more or less pleasure, except in that of\nhysteria, when by a sudden shock the course of Nature is reversed, and\nexcessive grief will produce the signs of joy, as extravagant delight\nwill sometimes exhibit those of sorrow. We should also exclude the\nlaughter caused by inhalation of gas, and that of maniacs, which arising\nfrom some strange and unaccountable feeling is abnormal and imperfect,\nand known by a hollow sound peculiar to itself. None of these kinds of\nlaughter are primary, they are but imperfect reflections of our usual\nmodes of expression, and, excepting such cases, we may agree that M.\nPaffe is correct in observing that \"Joy is an indispensable condition of\nlaughter.\" Dr. Darwin refers to the laughter of idiots to prove that it\nmay be occasioned by pleasure alone. Strangely enough, he quotes as an\ninstance in point the fact of an idiot boy having laughed at receiving a\nblack eye.\n\nProceeding onwards, we next come to inquire why the sense of humour is\nexpressed by voice and countenance, and does not merely afford a silent\nand secret delight? The answer may be given, that one object, at least,\nis to increase social communication and multiply pleasure. The\nwell-being of the animal world largely depends upon the power of each\nmember of it to communicate with others of the same species. They all do\nso by sound and gesture, probably to a larger extent than we generally\nimagine. A celebrated physician lately observed to me that \"all animals\nhave some language.\" How far mere signs deserve so high a name may be\nquestioned. But man has great powers of intercourse, and it is much\nowing to his superior faculties in this respect that he holds his place\nso high above the rest of creation. Orators, who make it their study to\nbe impressive, give full importance to every kind of expression, and say\nthat a man should be able to make his meaning understood, even when his\nvoice is inaudible. It has been lately discovered that the mere movement\nof the lips alone, without sound, is sufficient to convey\ninformation.[2] Facial expression has been given us as a means of\nassisting communication, and smiles and laughter have become the\ndistinctive manifestations of humour. Thus the electric spark passes\nfrom one to another, and the flashing eye and wreathed lip lights up the\nworld. Profit also accrues--fear of being laughed at leads us to avoid\nnumerous small errors, and by laughing at others we are enabled to\ndetect shortcomings in ourselves.\n\nSympathetic laughter does not arise from any contemplation of ludicrous\ncircumstances, but is only a sort of reflection of the feelings of\nothers. There seems to be little intelligence in it, but something\nalmost physical, just as yawning is infectious, or as on seeing a person\nwounded in a limb we instinctively shrink ourselves in the same part of\nthe body. Even a picture of a man laughing will have some effect upon\nus, and so have those songs in which exuberant mirth is imitated. Thus\nwe often laugh without feeling just cause, as we often feel cause\nwithout laughing. All exhibitions of emotion are infectious. We feel sad\nat seeing a man in grief, although the source of his sorrow is unknown\nto us; and we are inclined to be joyous when surrounded by the votaries\nof mirth. Not unfrequently we find a number of persons laughing, when\nthe greater part of them have no idea what is the cause of the\nmerriment. Sometimes we cannot entirely resist the impulse, even when we\nourselves are the object of it, so much are we inclined to enter into\nthe feelings and views of those who surround us. In this, as well as in\nmany other cases, the sight and proximity of others exercise over us a\ngreat influence, and sometimes almost a fascination.\n\nTo this sympathy we are largely indebted for the diffusion of high\nspirits. It is pleasant to laugh and see others laughing, and thus the\none leads to the other. \"Laugh and be fat,\" is a proverb, and it has\nbeen well observed that \"we like those who make us laugh,\" because they\ngive us pleasure. We may add that we like to see others joyous, because\nwe feel that we are surrounded by kindly natures. A gallant writer tells\nus that he hopes to be rewarded for his labours in the field of\nliterature by \"the sweetest of all sounds in nature--the laughter of\nfair women.\" Macready, speaking of this influence, says:\n\n\"The words of Milman would have applied well to Mrs. Jordan, 'Oh, the\nwords laughed on her lips!' Mrs. Nesbitt, the charming actress of a late\nday, had a fascinating power in the sweetly-ringing notes of her hearty\nmirth; but Mrs. Jordan's laugh was so rich, so apparently irrepressible,\nso deliciously self-enjoying, as to be at all times irresistible.\"\n\nThe agreeable influence of smiles is so well known that many are tempted\nto counterfeit them, and assume an expression in which the eye and lip\nare in unhappy conflict.[3] On the other hand, painful thoughts are\ninimical to mirth. No sally of humour will brighten the countenance of a\nman who has lately suffered a severe loss, and even mental reflection\nwill extinguish every sparkle. But the bed of sickness can often be\nbetter cheered by some gay efflorescence, some happy turn of thought,\nthan by expressions of condolence. Galen says that AEsculapius wrote\ncomic songs to promote circulation in his patients; and Hippocrates\ntells us that \"a physician should have a certain ready humour, for\nausterity is repulsive both to well and ill.\" The late Sir Charles Clark\nrecognised this so far that one of his patients told me that his visits\nwere like a bottle of Champagne; and Sir John Byles observes,\n\"Cheerfulness eminently conduces to health both of body and mind; it is\none of the great physicians of nature.\n\n  \"Il y a trois medecins qui ne se trompent pas,\n   La gaite, le doux exercice, et le modeste repas.\n\nEvery hour redeemed from despondency and melancholy, and bathed in the\nsunshine of cheerfulness, is an hour of true life gained.\"\n\nOur views with regard to the first appearance of laughter depend on\nwhether we consider that man was gradually developed from the primeval\noyster, or that he came into the world much in the same condition as\nthat in which we find him now. If we adopt the former opinion, we must\nconsider that no outward expressions of feeling originally existed; if\nthe latter, that they were from the first almost as perfect as they are\nat present. But I think that we shall be on tolerably safe ground, and\nhave the support of probability and history, if we say that, in his\nearliest condition, the mental endowments of man were of the very\nhumblest description, but that he had always a tendency to progress and\nimprove. This view obtains some little corroboration from the fact that\nthe sounds animals utter in the early stages of their lives are not\nfully developed, and that the children of the poor are graver and more\nsilent than those of the educated classes. But a certain predisposition\nto laughter there always was, for what animal has ever produced any but\nits own characteristic sound? Has not everyone its own natural mode of\nexpression? Does not the dog show its pleasure by wagging its tail, and\nthe cat by purring? We never find one animal adopting the vocal sounds\nof another--a bird never mews, and a cat never sings. Some men have been\ncalled cynics from their whelpish ill-temper, but none of them have ever\nadopted a real canine snarl, though it might express their feelings\nbetter than human language. Laughter, so far as we can judge, could not\nhave been obtained by any mere mental exercise, nor would it have come\nfrom imitation, for it is only found in man, the yelping of a hyena\nbeing as different from it as the barking of a dog, or the cackling of\na goose. We may, however, suppose that the first sounds uttered by man\nwere demonstrative of pain or pleasure, marking a great primary\ndistinction, which we make in common with all animals. But our next\nexpression showed superior sensibility and organism: it denoted a very\npeculiar perception of the intermingling of pain and pleasure, a\ncombination of opposite feelings not possessed by other animals, or not\ndistinct enough in them to have a specific utterance. There might seem\nto be something almost physical in the sensation, as it can be excited\nby tickling, or the inhalation of gas. Similar results may be produced\nby other bodily causes. Homer speaks of the chiefs laughing after a\nsumptuous banquet, and of a man \"laughing sweetly\" when drunk. Bacon's\nterm _titillatio_, would seem very appropriate in such cases. There was\nan idea, in olden times, that laughter emanated from a particular part\nof the body. Tasso, in \"Jerusalem Delivered,\" describing the death of\nArdonio, who was slain by a lance, says that it\n\n    \"Pierced him through the vein\n   Where laughter has her fountain and her seat,\n     So that (a dreadful bane)\n   He laughed for pain, and laughed himself to death.\"\n\nThis idea probably arose from observing the spasmodic power of\nlaughter, which was greater formerly than now, and to the same origin we\nmay attribute the stories of the fatal consequences it has, at times,\nproduced; of Zeuxis, the painter, having expired in a fit brought on by\ncontemplating a caricature he had made of an old woman, and of\nFranciscus Cosalinus, a learned logician, having thus broken a\nblood-vessel, which led to his dying of consumption. Wolfius relates\n\"that a country bumpkin, called Brunsellius, by chance seeing a woman\nasleep at a sermon fall off her seat, was so taken that he laughed for\nthree days, which weakened him so that he continued for a long time\nafterwards in an infirm state.\"\n\nWe must suppose that laughter has always existed in man, at least as\nlong as he has been physically constituted as he is now, for it might\nalways have been produced by tickling the papillae of the nerves, which\nare said to be more exposed in man than in other animals. When we have\nstated the possibility of this pleasurable sensation being awakened\nunder such circumstances, we have, in fact, asserted that it was in\ncourse of time thus called into existence. But the enjoyment might have\nbeen limited to this low phase, for the mind might have been so vacant,\nso deficient in emotion and intelligence that the moral and intellectual\nconditions necessary for a higher kind of laughter might have been\nwanting. This seems to be the case among some savages at the present\nday, such as the New Zealanders and North American Indians. The earliest\nlaughter did not arise from what we call the ludicrous, but from\nsomething apparently physical--such as touch--though it does not follow\nthat it would never otherwise have existed at all, for, as the mind more\nfully developed itself, facial expressions would flow from superior and\nmore numerous causes. Nor can we consider that what is properly called\nmirth was shown in this primitive physical laughter, which was such as\nmay be supposed to have existed when darkness was on the face of the\nintellectual world. How great, and of what continuance, was this\nprimeval stagnation must be for ever unknown to us, but it was not\ndestined to prevail. Light gradually dawned upon the mental wastes, and\nthey became productive of beauty and order. As greater sensibility\ndeveloped itself, emotion began to be expressed; first, probably at an\nadult period of life, by the sounds belonging to the corresponding\nfeelings in the bodily constitution. Tears and cries betoken mental as\nwell as physical anguish, and laughter denoted a mixed pleasurable\nfeeling either in mind or body. There is a remarkable instance of this\ntransference from the senses to the emotional feelings in the case of\nwhat is called sardonic laughter, in which a similar contortion of\ncountenance to that caused by the pungency of a Sardinian herb is\nconsidered to denote a certain moral acerbity. Here there is an analogy\nestablished between the senses and emotions in their outward\nmanifestation, just as there is in language in the double meaning of\nsuch terms as bitter and sweet.\n\nWhen we consider the fact that matter is that which gives, and mind that\nwhich receives impressions, or that our perceptions do not teach the\nnature of external things, but that of our own constitution, we shall\nadmit that there is not such a fundamental difference between feelings\nderived from the sense of touch, and those coming through our other\nsenses. But we must observe that there is a great practical difference\nbetween them, inasmuch as the one sense remains in its original\nprimitive state, and is not cultivated as are the others. Physical\nlaughter requires no previous experience, no exercise of judgment, and\ntherefore has no connection with the intellectual powers of the mind.\nThe lowest boor may laugh on being tickled, but a man must have\nintelligence to be amused by wit. The senses which are the least\ndiscriminating are the least productive of humour, little is derived\nfrom that of smell or of taste, though we may talk sometimes of an\neducated palate and an acquired taste. The finer organs of sight and\nhearing are the chief mediums of humour, but the sense of touch might by\neducation be rendered exquisitely sensitive, and Dickens mentions the\ncase of a girl he met in Switzerland who was blind, deaf, and dumb, but\nwho was constantly laughing. Among infants, also, where very slight\ncomplication is required, the sense of humour can be excited by touch.\nThus nurses will sing, \"Brow brinky, eye winkey, nose noppy, cheek\ncherry, mouth merry,\" and greatly increase the little one's appreciation\nby, at the same time, touching the features named. Contact with other\nbodies occasions a sensation, and might, by degrees, awaken an emotion;\nand we might thus have such a sense of the ludicrous as that obtained\nthrough eye and ear, which is sometimes almost intuitive, and but\nslightly derived from reflection or experience. Of this kind is that\naroused by the rapid changes of form and colour of the kaleidoscope, and\nthose pantomimic representations which amuse the young and uneducated,\nand others who live mostly in the senses.\n\nWe have now arrived at the emotional phase of laughter, that in which\nemotion far exceeds intellectual action. At this stage, we have a kind\nof laughter which we may call that of pleasure, inasmuch as it is the\nfirst that deserves a distinct name. This laughter of pleasure required\nvery little complication of thought, contained no unamiable feeling, and\nexpressed the mildest sense of the ludicrous. At the same time, it did\nnot flow from any mere constitutional joyousness, but only arose upon\ncertain occasions, in consequence of some remarkable and unusual\noccurrence--such as the reception of glad tidings, or the sudden\nacquisition of some good fortune. This ancient laughter, now no longer\nexisting, is alluded to in early writings.\n\nThus we read in Gen. xxi. 6, that Sarah, on the birth of Isaac, said\n\"God hath made me to laugh, so that all that hear will laugh with me,\"\nand in Ps. cxxvi., \"When the Lord turned again the captivity of Zion, we\nwere like them that dream. Then was our mouth filled with laughter, and\nour tongue with singing.\" And in Proverbs we find, \"There is a time to\nweep, and a time to laugh,\" contrasting the expression of sorrow with\nthat of pleasure. Passing into Greek literature, we find laughter\nconstantly termed \"sweet.\" In Iliad xxi, \"Saturn smiled sweetly at\nseeing his daughter;\" in xxiii. \"The chiefs arose to throw the shield,\nand the Greeks laughed, _i.e._, with joy.\" In Odyssey, xx. 390, they\nprepare the banquet with laughter. Od. xxii., 542, Penelope laughs at\nTelemachus sneezing, when she is talking of Ulysses' return; she takes\nit for a good omen. And in the Homeric Hymns, which, although inferior\nin date to the old Bard, are still among the earliest specimens of\nliterature, we find, in that to Mercury, that the god laughs on\nbeholding a tortoise, \"thinking that he will make a beautiful lyre out\nof its shell;\" and a little further on, Apollo laughs at hearing the\nsound of the lyre. In the hymn to Aphrodite, the laughter-loving Venus\nlaughed sweetly when she thought of men and mortals being intermarried.\nThe fact that this and the preceding kinds of laughter were not\nnecessarily regarded as intellectual, is evident from the ancient poets\nattributing them to vegetable and inorganic life. Considerable licence\nin personification must no doubt be conceded to those who went so far as\nto deify the elements, and to imagine a sort of soul in the universe,\nand no doubt language as well as feeling was not at the time strictly\nlimited. But it must be remarked that, while they rarely attribute\nlaughter to the lower animals, they also never ascribe any other sign of\nemotion, nor even that in its higher kinds, to insensate matter. In all\nthese passages it is of a physical, or merely pleasurable description.\nIn Iliad xiv. 362, speaking of the Grecian host, Homer says that \"the\ngleam of their armour was reflected to heaven, and all the earth around\nlaughed at the brazen refulgence.\"\n\nIn Hesiod's Theogony, v. 40, we read that when the Muses are singing\n\"the palace of loud-thundering Jove laughs (with delight) at their lily\nvoice;\" and in the Hymn to Ceres we find Proserpine beholding a\nNarcissus, from the root of which a hundred heads sprang forth \"and the\nwhole heavens were scented with its fragrance, and the whole earth\nlaughed and the briny wave of the sea.\" Theognis writes that Delos, when\nApollo was born, \"was filled with the ambrosial odour, and the huge\nearth laughed.\" The poets seemed scarcely to have advanced beyond such a\nbold similitude, and we may conclude that while they saw in laughter\nsomething above the powers of the brute creation, they did not consider\nthat it necessarily expressed the smallest exercise of intellect.\n\nThis laughter of pleasure, which cheered the early centuries of the\nworld, now no longer exists except perhaps in childhood. It belongs to\nsimpler if not happier natures than our own. If a man were now to say\nthat his friends laughed on hearing of some good fortune having come to\nhim, we should suppose that they disbelieved it, or thought there was\nsomething ridiculous in the occurrence. In these less emotional ages, in\nwhich the manifestations of joy and sorrow are more subdued, it is mute,\nand has subsided into a smile. It is difficult to say when the change\ntook place, but our finding smiles mentioned in Homer, though not in\nScripture, might suggest their Greek origin, if they were at first\nmerely a modification of the early laughter of pleasure, betokening\nlittle more than kindly or joyous emotions. Although not always now\ngenial, the smile continues to be used for the symbol of pleasure, even\nin reference to inanimate Nature, as where Milton writes \"Old Ocean\nsmiled.\" The smile may have preceded laughter, as the bud comes before\nthe blossom, but it may, on the other hand, have been a reduction of\nsomething more demonstrative.\n\nWe have still a kind of laughter approaching very nearly to that of\npleasure, which contains little reflection, but cannot be regarded as\nsimply physical. This description seems to be that alluded to in the\nBook of Ecclesiastes, \"I said of laughter, it is mad, and of mirth, what\ngood doeth it?\" Of the same nature is that to which some excitable and\njoyous persons are constitutionally inclined. Their perpetual merriment\nseems to us childish and silly. Thus Steele observes to an hilarious\nfriend, \"Sir, you never laughed in your life,\" and farther on he\nremarks, \"Some men laugh from mere benevolence.\"\n\nThe pleasure accompanying the perception of the ludicrous has been by\nsome attributed to the exercise of certain muscles in the face, and by\nothers to the acquisition of new ideas. But we may safely discard both\ntheories, for the former derives the enjoyment from physical instead of\nmental sources, and the latter gives us credit for too great a delight\nin knowledge, even were it thus generally obtained. The enjoyment seems\npartly to arise from stimulation and activity of mind, excitement being\ngenerally agreeable, whereas inaction is monotonous and wearisome. But\nit seems also partly to be derived from sources which are, or appear to\nbe, collateral. Thus, in the early laughter of pleasure, some solid\nadvantage or gratification, present or future, was always in view, and\nfrom men being delighted at their own success, which must often have\nbeen obtained at the expense of others, it was an easy transition to\nrejoice at the failure of rivals. In those primitive times, when people\nfelt themselves insecure, and one tribe was constantly at war with\nanother, there was nothing that gave them so much joy as the misfortunes\nof their enemies. They exhibited their exultation by indulging in\nextravagant transports, in shouting, in singing and dancing, and when\nthere appeared some strangeness or peculiarity, something sudden or\nunaccountable in such disasters, laughter broke forth of that rude and\nhostile character which we may occasionally still hear among the\nuneducated classes. It accorded with the age in which it prevailed--a\nperiod when men were highly emotional and passionate, while their\nintellectual powers were feeble and inactive.\n\nThe two early phases of the ludicrous--those of pleasure and of\nhostility--containing small complexity, and a large proportion of\nemotion, are to a certain extent felt by the lower animals. Dr. Darwin\nhas observed an approximation to the laughter of pleasure in monkeys,\nbut he does not connect it with intelligence, and would not, I believe,\nclaim for them any sense of the ludicrous. I have, however, seen a dog,\non suddenly meeting a friend, not only wag his tail, but curl up the\ncorners of his lips, and show his teeth, as if delighted and amused. We\nmay also have observed a very roguish expression sometimes in the face\nof a small dog when he is barking at a large one, just as a cat\nevidently finds some fun in tormenting and playing with a captured\nmouse. I have even heard of a monkey who, for his amusement, put a live\ncat into a pot of boiling water on the fire. These animals are those\nmost nearly allied to man, but the perception of the ludicrous is not\nstrong enough in them to occasion laughter. The opinion of Vives that\nanimals do not laugh because the muscles of their countenances do not\nallow them, can scarcely be regarded as philosophical. Milton tells us\nthat,\n\n     \"Smiles from reason flow, To brutes denied;\"\n\na statement which may be taken as generally correct, although we admit\nthat there may be some approximation to smiling among the lower animals,\nand that it does not always necessarily proceed from reason.\n\nThe pleasure found in hostile laughter soon led to practical jokes.\nAlthough now discountenanced, they were anciently very common, and\nformed the first link between humour and the ludicrous. They were not\nimitative, and did not show any actual power to invent what was\nhumorous, but a desire to amuse by doing something which might cause\nsome ludicrous action or scene, just as people unable to speak would\npoint to things they wish to designate. These early jokes had severer\nobjects coupled with amusement, and were what we should call no joke at\nall. The first character in the records of antiquity that seems to have\nhad anything quaint or droll about it is that of Samson. Standing out\namid the confusion of legendary times, he gives us good specimens of the\nfierce and wild kind of merriment relished in ancient days; and was fond\nof making very sanguinary \"sport for the Philistines.\" He was an\nexaggeration of a not very uncommon type of man, in which brute strength\nis joined to loose morals and whimsical fancy. People were more inclined\nto laugh at sufferings formerly, because they were not keenly sensitive\nto pain, and also had less feeling and consideration for others. That\nSamson found some malicious kind of pleasure and diversion in his\nreprisals on his enemies, and made their misfortunes minister to his\namusement, is evident from the strange character of his exploits. \"He\ncaught three hundred foxes, and took fire-brands, and turned tail to\ntail, and put a fire-brand in the midst between two tails, and when he\nhad set the brands on fire, he let them go into the standing corn of the\nPhilistines, and burnt up both the shocks and also the standing corn of\nthe Philistines, with the vineyards and olives.\" On another occasion he\nallowed himself to be bound with cords, and thus apparently delivered\npowerless into the hands of his enemies; he then broke his bonds \"like\nflax that was burnt with fire,\" and taking the _jaw-bone of an ass_,\nwhich he found, slew a thousand men with it. His account of this\nmassacre shows that he regarded it in a humorous light: \"With the\njaw-bone of an ass heaps upon heaps, with the jaw of an ass I have slain\na thousand men.\" We might also refer to his carrying away the gates of\nGaza to the top of a hill that is before Hebron, and to his duping\nDelilah about the seven green withes.\n\nIn the above instances it will be observed that destruction or\ndisappointment of enemies was the primary, and amusement the secondary\nobject. It must be admitted that all such jokes are of a very poor and\nsevere description. They have not the undesigned coincidence of the\nludicrous nor the fanciful invention of true humour. Samson was\nevidently regarded as a droll fellow in his day, but beyond his jokes\nthe only venture of his on record is a riddle, which showed very little\ningenuity, and can not be regarded as humorous now, even if it were so\nthen.\n\nIt would, perhaps, be going too far to assert that no laughter of a\nbetter kind existed before the age at which we are now arrived; some\nminds are always in advance of their time, as others are behind it, but\nthey are few. The only place in which there is any approach in early\ntimes to what may be called critical laughter is recorded where Abraham\nand Sarah were informed of the approaching birth of Isaac. Perhaps this\nlaughter was mostly that of pleasure. Sarah denied that she laughed, and\nAbraham was not rebuked when guilty of the same levity.[4]\n\nWith the exception of the above-mentioned riddle, and rough pranks of\nSamson, we have no trace of humour until after the commencement of the\nMonarchy. The reigns of David and Solomon seemed to have formed the\nbrightest period in the literary history of the Jews. The sweet Psalmist\nof Israel was partly the pioneer to deeper thought, partly the\nrepresentative of the age in which he lived. It is the charm of his\npoetry that it is very rich and recondite--a mine of gold, which the\nfarther it is worked, the more precious its yield becomes. But it\neverywhere bears the stamp of passion and religious ardour, and does not\nbespeak the critical incisiveness of a highly civilised age.\nArgumentative acumen would have been as much below the poetic mind of\nDavid in one respect as it was above it in another, and while his\nrapturous language of admiration and faith seems above the range of\nhuman genius; his bitter denunciations of his enemies remind us of his\ndate, and the circumstances by which he was surrounded. Such immaturity\nwould be sufficient to account for the non-existence of humour. It may\nbe urged that David had no tendency in that direction. His thoughts were\nturned towards the sublime, and his religious character, his royal\nestate, and the vicissitudes of his early life, all inclined him to\nserious reflection. But we do not find that David was invariably grave\nand solemn. He indulged in laughter at the misfortunes of his\nadversaries, as we may conclude from a passage in Psalm lii, 6. \"God\nshall likewise destroy thee for ever; he shall take thee away and pluck\nthee out of thy dwelling-place, and root thee out of the land of the\nliving. Selah. The righteous also shall see and fear, and shall laugh at\nhim.\"\n\nHe also considered that, in turn, his enemies would deride him, if he\nwere unsuccessful. Psalm xxii, 7--\"All they that see me laugh me to\nscorn; they shoot out the lip and shake the head, saying, 'He trusted in\nthe Lord.'\"\n\nHe evidently thought there was nothing wrong in such laughter, for he\neven considers it compatible with Divine attributes,[5] Psalm ii, 4,\n\"He that sitteth in Heaven shall laugh; the Lord shall have them in\nderision;\" and Psalm xxxvii, 13, \"The Lord shall laugh at him, for he\nseeth that his day is coming.\"\n\nNothing can make it more certain than such expressions that the prophets\ninterpreted the intimations they received from above by clothing them\nwith their own mundane similitudes.\n\nOn the other hand, although David laughed at his enemies, he never seems\nto have done so at anything else. He frequently mentions fools, but\nalways with detestation. To him the term did not convey any idea of\nfrivolity or eccentricity, but of crime and wickedness. All these\nconsiderations tend to convince us that we can see in the writings of\nDavid a fairly good reflection of the mirth common in his day. Add to\nthis that there is no trace in any contemporary work of an attempt\nbeyond the emotional phases of the ludicrous, and we do not at this time\nread of any performance of Jewish plays, or of any kind of amusing\nrepresentations.\n\nA more advanced, but less faithful age is represented by another man.\nThe soldier-king passed away to make room for one educated under milder\ninfluences. He inherited not the piety or warlike virtues of his father,\nbut turned the same greatness of mind into a more luxurious and learned\nchannel. In his writings we find little that approaches the sublime, but\nmuch that implies analytical depth and complexity of thought. His tone\nbespeaks a settled and civilized period favourable to art and\nphilosophy, in which subtlety was appreciated, while the old feelings of\nacerbity had become greatly softened.\n\nIn the intellectual and moral state at this date, there were many\nconditions favourable to the development of humour. But we do not find\nit yet actually existing, although we must suppose that a mind capable\nof forming proverbs could not have been entirely insensible to it. We\nmay define a proverb to be a moral statement, instructive in object, and\nepigrammatically expressed. It is always somewhat controversial, and\nwhen it approaches a truism scarcely deserves the name.\n\nA great many of Solomon's proverbs may be regarded in two lights, and I\nthink a comparison between some of them will show that he was aware of\nthe fact, and if so he could scarcely have avoided feeling some sense\nof the ludicrous, and even of having a slight idea of humour in its\nhigher phases. I shall allude in illustration of this to a proverb often\nquoted ironically at the present day. \"In the multitude of counsellors\nthere is wisdom,\" and which we have combated and answered by a common\ndomestic adage.\n\nAgain Solomon is rather hard upon the failings of the ladies, \"The\ncontentions of a wife,\" he says, \"are a continual dropping.\" \"It is\nbetter to dwell in the corner of a housetop than with a brawling woman\nin a wide house.\" \"It is better to dwell in the wilderness than with a\ncontentious and angry woman.\" The meaning of all these sayings must be\nthat women are of a very irritable and vexatious character. But did\nSolomon really believe in the strong terms he used towards them. We\nshould say not to judge by his life, for he had \"seven hundred wives,\nand three hundred concubines;\" and although he says that, \"as a jewel of\ngold in a swine's snout, so is a fair woman that is without\ndiscretion\"--a very strong comparison--we may be sure that he had a\ngreat many of these despicable creatures domiciled in his own palace.\n\nSolomon's strictures with regard to money may also be regarded as of\nsomewhat uncertain value:--\"How much better is it to get wisdom than\ngold,\" sounds very well, although Solomon must have known that many men\nwould prefer the latter, and history seems to say that he was not averse\nfrom it himself. \"He that is despised and hath a servant is better than\nhe that honoureth himself, and lacketh bread,\" shows at least some\nappreciation of the usefulness of wealth. Ecclesiastes makes a more\ndecided statement. \"Money answereth all things.\" I should imagine\nSolomon was as much alive to the two sides of the question, as was the\nGreek who on being asked scoffingly \"why philosophers followed rich men,\nbut rich men never followed philosophers,\" replied, \"Because\nphilosophers know what they want, but rich men do not.\"\n\nIn one place Solomon shows his consciousness that his proverbs may be\nviewed as true or false. He gives two opposite propositions--\"Answer not\na fool according to his folly, lest thou also be like unto him,\" and,\n\"Answer a fool according to his folly, lest he be wise in his own\nconceit.\" Shortly afterwards, he observes, as if the idea of perverting\nand turning proverbs was in his mind, \"The legs of a lame man are not\nequal, so is a parable in the mouth of fools.\"\n\nThere was another form besides that of Proverbs, in which during\nearlier ages moral and political teachings were expressed. One of the\nfirst comparisons man learned to draw was that between himself and the\nlower animals; and the separation between reason and instinct would not\nappear to be at first so clearly defined as it is at present. Before the\ngrowth of cities, and the increased intercourse and accumulated\nexperience resulting from their formation, the mental development of man\nwas so small as not to offer any very strong contrast to the sagacity of\nother animals. The greatest men of ancient times were merely nomad\nchiefs living on the wild pasture plains, often tending their own\nflocks, and, no doubt, like the Arabs of the present day, making\ncompanions of their camels and horses. By the rivers and in the jungles,\nthey often encountered beasts of prey, became familiar with their\nhabits, and formed a higher opinion of their intelligence than we\ngenerally hold. At that time, when strength was more esteemed than\nintellectual gifts, there was sometimes a tendency to consider them as\nrather above than below the human race. The lion, the eagle, and the\nstag possessed qualities to which it was man's highest ambition to\naspire, and, in some cases, he even went so far as to worship them. In\nthe ancient civilisation of Egypt we find the most numerous traces of\nthis culture and feeling--gods, kings, rulers, and disembodied spirits\nbeing represented entirely or partially under the forms of what we call\nthe lower animals. The strange allegorical figures found at Nineveh may\nalso be considered illustrations in point. There was evidently no\ncaricature intended in these representations, and it is worthy of notice\nthat such as are grotesque are not earlier than Roman times.\n\nIt is unnecessary to recapitulate the beautiful comparisons of this\ncharacter which are profusely scattered through Holy Writ, but we should\nespecially notice the blessing given by Jacob to his sons on his\ndeath-bed; in which we seem almost to discover the first origin of\nheraldry. Another remarkable comparison is that of Nathan, aptly made,\nand likely to sink with weight into the heart of the Shepherd-King. The\nsame respect for animals survived in the time of the earliest Greek\nwriters.\n\nHomer in his solemn epic has numerous instances of it:--Hector in\n\"Iliad\" xi, 297, is setting the Trojans on \"like dogs at a wild boar or\nlion.\" In xi, 557, Ajax retreating slowly from the Trojans is compared\nto an ass who has gone to feed in a field, and whom the boys find great\ndifficulty in driving out, \"though they belabour him well with cudgels.\"\nAgamemnon is compared to a bull, Sarpedon and Patroclus in deadly\ncombat to two vultures, and Diomed and Ulysses pursue Dolon as two fleet\nhounds chase a hare. All these were evidently intended to be most\npoetical, if not elevating similes; their dignity would have been lost\ncould they possibly have been regarded as humorous.\n\nSimonides of Amorgos in the seventh century B.C., is remarkable\nfor this kind of illustration. After some lamentations about human life,\nhe observes that nothing is better than a good wife, or worse than a bad\none, and he proceeds to compare women to various animals. He is also\nevidently very serious over the subject, and regards it as no joke at\nall. Perhaps there was also something to be said on the other side, for\nhe remarks that a gadding wife cannot be cured, even if you \"knock out\nher teeth with a stone.\" He likens them to pigs and polecats, horses\nand apes; and only praises the descendant of the bee. In a passage\nundoubtedly of early date, and attributed to Xenophanes, the founder of\nthe Eleatic school of philosophy, (540-500) the writer enumerates the\nvarious ways, in which other animals are superior to man. \"If by the\nwill of God there were an equality and community in life, so that the\nherald of the Olympian games should not only call men to the contest,\nbut also bid all animals to come, no man would carry off a prize; for\nin the long race the horse would be the best; the hare would win the\nshort race; the deer would be best in the double race. No man's\nfleetness would count for anything, and no one since Hercules would seem\nto have been stronger than the elephant or lion; the bull would carry\noff the crown in striking, and the ass in kicking, and history would\nrecord that an ass conquered men in wrestling and boxing.\"\n\nBut the light in which the lower animals were regarded, produced other\nfanciful combinations. Not only were men given the attributes of\nanimals, but animals were endowed with the gifts peculiar to man. All\nthings were then possible. Standing as he seemed in the centre of a\nplain of indefinite or interminable extent, how could any man limit the\nproductions or vagaries of Nature, even if he possessed far more than\nthe narrow experience of those days? Moreover, the boundary lines were\nvague between the natural and supernatural, and the latter was supposed\nto be constantly interposing in the ordinary affairs of life. Among\nother beliefs then prevalent, was one in the existence of a kind of half\nnature, such as that in Centaurs, dragons, and griffins. In the Assyrian\ncuneiform inscriptions lately deciphered, we read, of one Heabani, a\nsemi-bovine hermit, supposed to have lived 2,200 B.C. Thus the\naccounts in Scripture of the serpent accosting Eve, and of Balaam\narguing with his ass, would not have seemed so remarkable then as they\ndo to us. In an Egyptian novel--the oldest extant, cir. 1,400\nB.C.--a cow tells Bata that his elder brother is standing\nbefore him with his dagger ready to kill him. He understood, we are\ntold, the language of animals, and was afterwards transformed into a\nbull. Greek tradition as recorded by Plato, Xenophon, Babrius, and\nothers, speaks of an early golden age in which men and animals held\ncolloquies together \"as in our fables;\" whence we should conclude this\nmuch--that there was a time when poets very commonly introduced them as\nholding conversations, and when philosophers illustrated their doctrines\nfrom the animal world.\n\nThe fable, we are told, was \"an invention of ancient Assyrian men in the\ndays of Ninus and Belus,\" and in confirmation of its Eastern origin, we\nmay observe that the apologues of Lokman are of Indian derivation. He is\nsupposed, by Arabian writers, to have been either a nephew of Abraham or\nJob, or a counsellor of David or Solomon.\n\nThe first specimen we have of an ordinary fable, _i.e._, of one in which\nthe interlocutors are lower animals, is found in Hesiod, who is placed\nabout a century after Homer. It runs thus:--\n\n\"Now I will tell the kings a fable, which they will understand of\nthemselves. Thus spake the hawk to the nightingale, whom he was carrying\nin his talons high in air, 'Foolish creature! why dost thou cry out? One\nmuch stronger than thou hath seized thee, though thou art a songster. I\ncan tear thee to pieces, or let thee go at my pleasure.'\"\n\nBut fables do not come fully under our view until they are connected\nwith the name of AEsop, who is said to have introduced them into Greece.\nIn general his fables pretend to nothing more than an illustration of\nproverbial wisdom, but in some cases they proceed a step farther, and\nshow the losses and disappointments which result from a neglect of\nprudent considerations. It cannot be denied that there is something\nfanciful and amusing in these fables, still there is not much in them to\nexcite laughter--they are not sufficiently direct or pungent for that.\nThe losses or disappointments mentioned, or implied, give a certain\nexercise to the feelings of opposition in the human breast, and if they\nare supposed to be such as could not easily have been foreseen, we\nshould regard the narratives as humorous. But this is scarcely the\ncase; the mishaps arise simply and directly from the situations, and\nare related with a view to the inculcation of truth, rather than the\nexhibition of error. Hence the basis is different from that in genuine\nhumour, and the complication is small. Still the object evidently was to\nallure men into the paths of wisdom through the pleasure grounds of\nimagination.\n\nAddison has justly observed that fables were the first kind of humour.\nAs the days of Athenian civilization advanced, their light chaff was\nthought more of than their solid matter. Two hundred years of progress\nin man caused the animals to be truly considered \"lower,\" natural\ndistinctions were better appreciated, and there seemed to be something\nabsurd in the idea of their thinking or talking. Hence AEsop's fables are\nspoken of by Aristophanes as something laughable, and the fabulist came\nto be regarded as a humorist. This feeling gained ground so much\nafterwards that Lucian makes AEsop act the part of a buffoon in \"The\nIsles of the Blessed.\" Such views no doubt influenced the traditions\nwith regard to the condition and characteristics of their composer.\nThere was the more field for this, inasmuch as even the fables were only\nhanded down orally. Some biographer, formerly supposed to have been\nPlanudes the monk, seems to have fertilized with his own inventive\ngenius many tales which had themselves no better foundation than the\nconjectures derived from the tone and nature of the fables. AEsop was\nrepresented as droll, as a sort of wit, and by a development of the\nconnection in the mind between humour and the ludicrous, they gave him\nan infirm body, hesitating speech, and servile condition. Improving the\nstory, they said his figure frightened the servants of the merchant who\nbought him. At the same time many clever tricks and speeches were\nattributed to him. What we really glean from such stories is, that\nanimal fables soon came to be regarded as humorous. It is probable that\nsome fabulist of the name of AEsop at one time existed, but we know\nnothing with certainty about his life, and many of the fables attributed\nto him were perhaps of older date.\n\nThe advance in the direction of humour, which was manifested in AEsop's\nfictions, was also found in the opulent Ionian Sybaris. This city,\nsituated on the lovely Bay of Tarentum, was now at the height of its\nfame, the acknowledged centre of Greek luxury and civilization. A\nreflection of oriental splendour seems to have been cast upon it, and we\nread of all kinds of extravagant and curious arrangements for the\nindulgence of ease and indolence. Amid all this luxury and leisure,\nfancy was not unemployed. We find that, like the former leaders of\nfashion in this country, they kept a goodly train of monkeys,[6] and\nanticipated our circus performances by teaching their horses to dance on\ntheir hind legs, an advance above practical joking and below pictorial\ncaricature. Moreover, intellectual entertainment was required at their\nsumptuous feasts, and genius was tasked to find something light and\nracy, maxims of deep significance interwoven with gay and fanciful\ncreations. There was not sufficient subtlety about these inventions to\nentitle them to the name of humour in our modern sense of the word; much\ncomplication was not then required, nor much laughter expected. The\n\"fables\" of Sybaris seem to have been of a similarly philosophical cast\nto those of AEsop. The following specimen is given in the Vespae, 1427.\n\n\"A man of Sybaris fell from a chariot, and, as it happened, had his head\nbroken--for he was not well acquainted with driving--and a friend who\nstood by, said, 'Let every man practise the craft, which he\nunderstands.'\"\n\nWe observe that these fables are not carried on through the assistance\nof our four-footed friends. At Sybaris, conversation between men and the\nlower animals had begun to appear not only absurd, but to be improved\nupon and made with the evident intention of being humorous. Hence,\ninanimate things were sometimes made to speak, and in succeeding\nfictions birds and beasts were given such special characteristics and\nrequirements of men as could least have belonged to them. As an example\nof this, we may refer to the Batrachomyomachia--a production called\nHomeric but proved by the very length of its name to belong to a later\ndate. It is ascribed by Plutarch to Pigres, the brother of the\nHalicarnassian Queen, Artemisia, contemporary with the Persian War. This\npoem, which is a parody on Homer, reminds us, in its microscopic\nrepresentation of human affairs, of the travels of Gulliver in Lilliput.\nA frog offers to give a mouse a ride across the water on his back.\nUnfortunately, a water-snake lifts up its head when they are in the\nmiddle passage, and the frog diving to avoid the danger, the mouse is\ndrowned. From this trifling cause there arises a mighty war between the\nfrogs and the mice. The contest is carried on in true Homeric style; the\nmice-warriors are armed with bean-pods for greaves, lamp-bosses for\nshields, nutshells for helmets, and long needles for spears. The frogs\nhave leaves of willow on their legs, cabbage leaves for shields,\ncockle-shells for helmets, and bulrushes for spears. Their names are\nsuggestive, as in a modern pantomime. Among the mice we have\nCrumb-stealer, Cheese-scooper, and Lick-dish; among the frogs,\nPuff-cheeks, Loud-croaker, Muddyman, Lovemarsh, &c.\n\n\n\n\nPART II.\n\nGREEK HUMOUR.\n\nBirth of Humour--Personalities--Story of Hippocleides--Origin of\n  Comedy--Archilochus--Hipponax--Democritus, the Laughing\n  Philosopher--Aristophanes--Humour of the\n  Senses--Indelicacy--Enfeeblement of the Drama--Humorous\n  Games--Parasites, their Position and\n  Jests--Philoxenus--Diogenes--Court of Humour--Riddles--Silli.\n\n\nThere is every reason to suppose that a very considerable period elapsed\nbefore any progress was made in advance of the ludicrous, but at length\nby those who appreciated it strongly, and saw it in things in which it\ndid not appear to others, humorous devices were invented from a growing\ndesire to multiply the occasions for enjoyment. Observation and our\npower of imitation provided the means, and men of humour employed\nthemselves in reproducing some ludicrous situations; and thus, instead\nof things derided being as previously wholly separate from those who\nderided them, a man could laugh, and yet be the cause of laughter to\nothers. This discovery was soon improved upon, and by aid of imagination\nand memory, as opportunities offered, certain connections and\nappearances were represented under a great variety of forms. As the mind\nenlarged, the exciting causes of laughter were not mainly physical or\nemotional, but assumed a higher and more rational character.\n\nAt the period at which we have now arrived, we find humour dawning\nthrough various channels. We have traced approximations towards it in\nproverbs and fables, and, in a coarse form, in practical jokes; and as\nfrom historical evidences we are ready to admit that civilization had an\nEastern origin, so we shall feel little difficulty in assigning Greece\nas the birthplace of humour. A greater activity of mind now begins to\nprevail, reflection has gradually given distinctness to emotion, and the\nludicrous is not only recognised as a source of pleasure, but\nintentionally represented in literature.\n\nBefore the time of AEsop, though not perhaps of his fables, Homer related\na few laughable occurrences of so simple a character as to require\nlittle ingenuity. In this respect he is not much better than a man who\nrecounts some absurd incident he has witnessed without adding sufficient\nto it to show that he has a humorous imagination. His mirth, except\nwhen merely that of pleasure, is of the old hostile character. In Iliad,\nxi, 378, Paris, having hit Diomed, from behind a pillar with an arrow in\nthe foot, springs forth from his concealment and laughs at him, saying\nhe wished he had killed him. In Iliad, xxi, 407, where the gods descend\ninto the battle, Minerva laughs at Mars when she has struck him with a\nhuge stone so that he fell, his hair was draggled in the dust, and his\narmour clanged around him. In the Odyssey, Ulysses speaks of his heart\nlaughing within him after he had put out Polyphemus' eye with a burning\nstick without being discovered. And in Book xviii, Ulysses strikes Irus\nunder the ear and breaks his head, so that blood pours from his mouth,\nand he falls gnashing and struggling on the ground, at which, we are\ntold, the suitors \"die with laughter.\"\n\nFrom this hostile phase the transition was easy to ridiculing personal\ndefects, and so Homer tells us that when the gods at their banquet saw\nVulcan, who was acting as butler, \"stumping about on his lame leg,\" they\nfell into \"unextinguishable laughter.\"\n\nThersites is described as \"squint-eyed, lame-legged, with bent shoulders\npinched over his chest, a pointed head, and very little hair on it.\"\nHomer may merely have intended to represent the reviler of kings as\nodious and despicable, but there seems to be some humour intended.\nRidicule of personal defects must always be of an inferior kind, being a\nmatter of sight, and of small complexity. As the first advance of the\nludicrous was from the hostile to the personal, so the beginning of\nhumour seems to have been the representation of personal defects.[7]\n\nIn accordance with this, we find that the only mention of laughter made\nby Simonides of Amorgos is where he says that some women may be compared\nto apes, and then gives a very rude description of their persons. This\nsubservience to the eye can also be observed in the appreciation of\nmonkeys and dancing horses, already mentioned, the latter forming a\nhumorous exhibition, as the animals were trained with a view to amuse.\nWe have marks of the same optical tendencies in the appreciation of\nantics and contortions of the body, either as representing personal\ndeformity, or as a kind of puzzling and disorderly action. A little\ncontemporary story related by Herodotus shows that these pantomimic\nperformances were now becoming fashionable in Athens. Cleisthenes,\ntyrant of Sicyon, was even at this date so much in favour of competitive\nexaminations, that he determined to give his daughter to the most\nproficient and accomplished man. On the appointed day the suitors came\nto the examination from every quarter, for the fair Agariste was heiress\nto great possessions. Among them was one Hippocleides, an Athenian, who\nproved himself far superior to all the rest in music and dissertation.\nAfterwards, when the trial was over, desiring to indulge his feelings of\ntriumph and show his skill, he called for a piper, and then for a table,\nupon which he danced, finishing up by standing on his head and kicking\nhis legs about. Cleisthenes, who was apparently one of the \"old school,\"\nand did not appreciate the manners and customs of young Athens, was much\noffended by this undignified performance of his would-be son-in-law, and\nwhen he at last saw him standing on his head, could no longer contain\nhimself, but cried out, \"Son of Tisander, thou hast danced away thy\nmarriage.\" To which the other replied with characteristic unconcern:\n\"It's all the same to Hippocleides,\"--an expression which became\nproverbial. In this story we see the new conception of humour, though\nof a rude kind, coming into collision with the old philosophic contests\nof ingenuity, which it was destined to survive if not to supersede.\n\nWe have another curious instance about this date of an earnest-minded\nman being above the humour of the day, (which, no doubt, consisted\nprincipally of gesticulation), and he was probably voted an unsociable,\nold-fashioned fellow. Anacharsis, the great Scythian philosopher, when\njesters were introduced into his company maintained his gravity, but\nwhen afterwards a monkey was brought in, he burst into a fit of\nlaughter, and said, \"Now this is laughable by Nature; the other by Art.\"\nThat amusement should be thus excited by natural objects denotes a very\neccentric or primitive perception of the ludicrous, seldom now found\namong mature persons, but it is such as Diodorus, quoting no doubt from\nearlier histories, attributed to Osiris--\"to whom,\" he says, \"when in\nEthiopia, they brought Satyrs, (who have hair on their backs,) for he\nwas fond of what was laughable.\"\n\nBut a further development of humour was in progress. As people were at\nthat time easily induced to regard sufferings as ludicrous, the idea\nsuggested itself of creating mirth by administering punishment, or by\nindulging in threats and gross aspersions. A very slight amount of\ninvention or complexity was here necessary. The origin of the comic\ndrama furnishes an illustration of this. It commenced in the harvest\nhomes of Greece and Sicily--in the festivals of the grape-gatherers at\nthe completion of the vintage. They paraded the villages, crowned with\nvine-leaves, carrying poles and branches, and smeared with the juice of\ngrapes. Their aim was to provoke general merriment by dancing, singing,\nand grotesque attitudes, and by giving rein to their coarse and\npugnacious propensities. Spectators and passers by were assailed with\ninvectives, pelted with missiles, and treated to all that hostile humour\nwhich is associated with practical joking. So vile was their language\nand conduct that \"comedy\" came to signify abuse and vilification. As the\ntaste for music and rhythm became general in that sunny clime, even\nthese rioters adopted a kind of verse, by which rustic genius could give\nadditional point to scurrility. Thus arose the Iambic measure used at\nthe festivals of Ceres and Bacchus, and afterwards fabled to have been\ninvented by Iambe, the daughter of the King of Eleusis. Hence, also,\ncame the jesting used in celebrating the rites of Ceres in Sicily, and\nthe custom for people to post themselves on the bridge leading to\nEleusis in Attica, and to banter and abuse those going to the festivals.\nThe story of Iambe only marks the rural origin of the metre, and its\nconnection with Ceres, the Goddess of Harvest. Eleusis was her chosen\nabode, and next in her favour was Paros; and here we accordingly find\nthe first improvement made upon these uncouth and virulent effusions.\nAbout the commencement of the 7th century, Archilochus, a native of this\nplace, harnessed his ribaldries better, and put them into a \"light horse\ngallop.\" He raised the Iambic style and metre so as to obtain the\nunenviable notoriety of having been the first to dip his pen in viper's\ngall. Good cause had he for his complaints, for a young lady's father,\none Lycambes, refused to give him his daughter's hand. There was\napparently some difficulty about the marriage gifts--the poet having\nnothing to give but himself. Rejected, he took to writing defamatory\nverses on Lycambes and his daughters, and composed them with so much\nskill and point that the whole family hanged themselves. Allusions,\nwhich led to such a catastrophe, could not now be regarded as\npleasantries; but at that time he obtained a high reputation, and\nperhaps the suicide of the wretched Lycambes was considered the best\njoke of all.[8] The fragments which remain to us of Archilochus'\nproductions seem melancholy enough, and the only place where he speaks\nof laughter is where he calls Charilaus \"a thing to be laughed at,\"--an\nexpression which would seem to point to some personal deformity--we are\ntold, however, by later writers, that he was a glutton. In another\nremaining passage Archilochus says that \"he is not fond of a tall\ngeneral walking with his legs apart, with his hair carefully arranged,\nand his chin well shaven;\" where we still detect the same kind of\ncaricature, and in default of any adequate specimen of his \"gall,\" we\nmay perhaps be excused for borrowing an illustration from Alcaeus, who\nlived slightly later; and who, speaking of his political opponent\nPittacus, calls him a \"bloated paunch-belly,\" and a \"filthy\nsplay-footed, crack-footed, night fellow.\"\n\nArchilochus lived in the fable age, and the most perfect of the small\nfragments remaining of his works are of that allegorical description.\nBut he may be regarded as a representative of the dull and bitter humour\nof his time--a large proportion of which, as in his writings, and those\nof Simonides and Hesiod, was ungallantly directed against the \"girls of\nthe period.\"[9]\n\nBut Archilochus' humour, though rude and simple, opened a new mine of\nwealth, and if it was not at first very rich, it was enough to indicate\nthe golden treasure beneath. Sonorous narratives about heroes and\ndemi-gods were to be gradually supplanted by the bright contrasts of\nreal life. Archilochus' ingenuity had introduced light metres suited for\nflippant and pointed allusions. The conceit was generally approved, and\nthough the new form could not exactly be called humorous, it occurred to\nHipponax, in the next century, that he could make it so by a slight\nalteration. Perhaps this \"Father of Parody\" intended to mimic\nArchilochus; at any rate, by means of a change in termination, he\nmanufactured \"limping\" Iambics. We must suppose that he produced\nsomething better than this, but look in vain into his lines for any\ninstances of real pungency. He was a sort of Greek Samson, his best\njokes seem to have been connected with great strength, and to judge from\nwhat remains of his works, we should conclude that he was more justly\nfamous for \"tossing an oil cruise\" than for producing anything which we\nshould call humour. But, were we asked whether in that age his sayings\nwould have been amusing, we may reply in the affirmative; they certainly\nhad severity, for his figure having been caricatured by the sculptors of\nChios, Bupalus and Anthermus, he repaid them so well in their own coin,\nthat they also duly hanged themselves. It must be admitted that the fact\nof the same kind of death having been chosen by them, and by the objects\nof Archilochus' derision, does not increase greatly the credibility of\nthe stories.\n\nWe now come to consider what we may call a serious source of humour.\nAlready we have noticed the tendency in ancient times to exercises of\ningenuity in answering hard questions. These led to deeper thought, to\nthe aphoristic wisdom of the seven wise men, and the speculations of\nthose who were in due time to raise laughter at the follies of mankind.\n\nThis introduces the era of the philosophers--a remarkable class of men,\nwho grew up in the mercurial atmosphere of Greece. One of the most\ndistinguished of them was Democritus, born 460 B.C. He came of\nnoble descent, and belonged to so wealthy a family of Abdera that his\nfather was able to entertain Xerxes on his return to Asia. The King left\nsome Chaldean Magi to instruct his son, who, early in life, evinced a\ngreat desire for the acquisition of knowledge, and after studying under\nLeucippus, travelled to Egypt, Persia, and Babylon. He almost seemed a\ncompound of two different characters, uniting the intellectual energy of\nthe sage with the social feelings of a man of the world. Living in ease\nand opulence, he was not inclined to be censorious or morose; having\nmingled much in society, he was not very emotional or sympathetic; not\ntempted to think life a melancholy scene of suffering, but callous\nenough to find amusement in the ills he could not prevent. He regarded\nman, generally, as a curious study, as remarkable for not exercising the\nintellect with which he was endowed--not so much from censurable causes\nas from some obliquity in mental vision. Not that he regarded him as\nunaccountable--a fool in the ordinary acceptation of the word, is always\na responsible being, and not synonymous with an idiot.\n\nThe humour of this laughing sage, grounded upon deep philosophy, was so\nlittle understood in his day that none were able to join in his\nmerriment, nor did he expect that they should be; if he was humorous to\nhimself, he was not so, and did not aim at being so, to others. On the\ncontrary, he was thought to be mad, and Hippocrates was directed to\ninquire into his disorder, but the learned physician returned answer\nthat not he, but his opponents were deranged. Whether this story be a\nfabrication or not, we may regard it as a testimony that wise men saw\nmuch truth in his philosophy. Montaigne, in his Essay on Democritus and\nHeraclitus, gives his preference to the former, \"Because,\" he observes,\n\"men are more to be laughed at than hated,\" showing that he regarded him\nas imputing folly to men rather than vice.\n\nEven Socrates, whom we are accustomed to regard as the most earnest of\nphilosophers was by no means a melancholy man. Fully aware of the\ninfluence exercised by humour, he often put his teachings into an\nindirect form, and he seems to have first thus generally attracted\nattention. He introduced what is called irony[10]--the using expressions\nwhich literally mean exactly the opposite to what is intended. A man may\nbe either praised or blamed in this way, but Socrates' intention was\nalways sarcastic. He put questions to men, as if merely desiring some\ninformation they could easily give him, while he knew that his inquiries\ncould not be answered, without overthrowing the theories of those he\naddressed. Thus, he gave instruction whilst he seemed to solicit it. In\nvarious other ways he enlivened and recommended his doctrines by\nhumorous illustration. It is said that he even went to the theatre to\nsee himself caricatured, laughed as heartily as any, and stood up to\nshow the audience how correctly his ill-favoured countenance had been\nreproduced. This story may be questioned, and it has been observed that\nhe was not insensible to ridicule, for he said shortly before his death\nthat no one would deride him any longer. We are told that he spent some\nof his last days in versifying the fables of AEsop.\n\nWe now return from theoretical to practical life, from the philosophers\nto the public. Nothing exhibits more forcibly the variable character of\nhumour than that, while philosophers in their \"thinking shops\" were\nlaughing at the follies of the world, the populace in the theatre were\nshaking their sides at the absurdities of sages. Ordinary men did not\nappreciate abstract views, nor understand abstruse philosophic humour,\nindeed it died out almost as soon as it appeared, and was only\ncontemporary with a certain epoch in the mental history of Greece. Every\npopular man is to a great extent a reflection of the age in which he\nlives, \"a boat borne up by a billow;\" and what, in this respect is true\ngenerally, is especially so with regard to the humorist, who seeks a\npresent reward, and must be in unison with the characters of those he\nhas to amuse. He depends much on hitting the current fancies of men by\nsmall and subtle allusions, and he must have a natural perception of\nfitness, of the direction in which he must go, and the limits he must\nnot transgress. The literature of an epoch exhibits the taste of the\nreaders, as well as that of the authors.\n\nWe shall thus be prepared to find that the mind of Aristophanes,\nalthough his views were aristocratic, harmonized in tone with that of\nthe people, and that his humour bears the stamp of the ancient era in\nwhich he lived. The illustrations from the animal world in which he\nconstantly indulges remind us of the conceits of old times, when\nmarvellous stories were as much admired as the monstrous figures upon\nthe Persian tapestry. Would any man at the present day produce comedies\nwith such names as \"The Wasps,\" \"The Frogs,\" and \"The Birds.\"[11] But we\nhere meet with our feathered and four-footed companions at every corner.\nThe building of the bird's city is a good illustration of this. Thirty\nthousand cranes brought stones for the foundations from Libya, and ten\nthousand storks made bricks, the ducks with aprons on carried the\nbricks, and the swallows flew with trowels behind them like little boys,\nand with mortar in their beaks.\n\nWe also notice in Aristophanes a simple and rude form of the ludicrous,\nscarcely to be called humour, much in favour with his immediate\npredecessors. I refer to throwing fruits and sweatmeats among the\naudience. Trygaeus (Vintner), celebrating a joyous country festival in\nhonour of the return of peace and plenty, takes occasion to throw barley\namong the spectators. In another place Dicaepolis, also upon pacific\ndeeds intent, establishes a public treat, and calls out, \"Let some one\nbring in figs for the little pigs. How they squeak! will they eat them?\n(throws some) Bless me! how they do munch them! from what place do they\ncome? I should say from Eaton.\"\n\nIn this scrambling fun there would be good and bad fortune, and much\nlaughter would be occasioned, but mostly of an emotional character. Some\nof the jokes of Hegemon, who first introduced dramatic parody, were of a\nsimilar description, but more unpleasant. On one occasion he came into\nthe theatre with his robe full of stones, and began to throw them into\nthe orchestra, saying, \"These are stones, and let those who will throw\nthem.\" Aristophanes makes great use of that humour which is dependent\nupon awakening hostile and combative feelings. Personal violence and\nthreats are with him common stage devices. We have here as much \"fist\nsauce,\" and shaking of sticks, and as many pommellings, boxings of ears,\nand threats of assault and battery as in any modern harlequinade.\n\nNext in order, we come to consider some of the many instances in\nAristophanes of what may be called optical humour--that in which the\npoint principally depends upon the eye. Thus he makes Hercules say he\ncannot restrain his laughter on seeing Bacchus wearing a lion's skin\nover a saffron robe. A Megarian reduced to extremities, determines to\nsell his little daughters as pigs, and disguises them accordingly.[12]\nIn the Thesmophoriazusae, there is a shaving scene, in which the man\nperformed upon has his face cut, and runs away, \"looking ridiculous with\nonly one side of his face shaven.\" In another play where the ladies have\nstolen the gentlemen's clothes, the latter come on the stage in the\nmost ludicrous attire, wearing saffron-coloured robes, kerchiefs, and\nPersian slippers. In another, the chorus is composed of men representing\nwasps, with waists pinched in, bodies striped with black and yellow, and\nlong stings behind. The piece ends with three boys disguised as crabs,\ndancing a furious breakdown, while the chorus encourages them with,\n\"Come now, let us all make room for them, that they may twirl themselves\nabout. Come, oh famous offsprings of your briny father!--skip along the\nsandy shore of the barren sea, ye brothers of shrimps. Twirl, whirl\nround your foot swiftly, and fling up your heels in the air like\nPhrynicus, until the spectators shout aloud! Spin like a top, pass along\nin circle, punch yourself in the stomach, and fling your leg to the sky,\nfor the King himself, who rules the sea, approaches, delighted with his\nchildren!\"\n\nThe greater the optical element in humour, the lower and more simple it\nbecomes, the complexity being more that of the senses than of intellect.\nIt may be said there is always some appeal to both, but not in any equal\nproportions, and there is manifestly a great difference between the\nhumour of a plough-boy grinning through a horse-collar, and of a sage\nobserving that \"when the poor man makes the rich a present, he is\nunkind to him.\" Caricature drawings produce little effect upon educated\npeople, unless assisted by a description on which the humour largely\ndepends. We can see in a picture that a man has a grotesque figure, or\nis made to represent some other animal; by gesticulation we can\nunderstand when a person is angry or pleased, or hungry or thirsty; but\nwhat we gain merely through the senses is not so very far superior to\nthat which is obtained by savages or even the lower animals, except\nwhere there has been special education.\n\nNext to optical humour may be placed acoustic--that of sound--another\ninferior kind. The ear gives less information than the eye. In music\nthere is not so much conveyed to the mind as in painting, and although\nit may be lively, it cannot in itself be humorous. We cannot judge of\nthe range of hearing by the vast store of information brought by words\nwritten or spoken, because these are conventional signs, and have no\noptical or acoustic connection with the thing signified. We can\nunderstand this when we listen to a foreign language.\n\nHipponax seems to have been the first man who introduced acoustic humour\nby the abrupt variation in his metre. Exclamations and strange sounds\nwere found very effective on the stage, and were now frequently\nintroduced, especially emanating from slaves to amuse the audience.\nAristophanes commences the knights with a howling duet between two\nslaves who have been flogged,\n\n\"Oh, oh--Oh, oh--Oh, oh--Oh, oh--\"\n\nIn another play, there is a constant chorus of frogs croaking from the\ninfernal marshes.\n\n\"Brekekekex, coax, coax, brekekekex, coax, coax.\"\n\nIn \"The Birds,\" the songsters of the woods are frequently heard trilling\ntheir lays. As they were only befeathered men, this must have been a\nsomewhat comic performance. The king of birds, transformed from Tereus,\nKing of Thrace, twitters in the following style.\n\n\"Epopopopopopopopopopoi! io! io! come, come, come, come, come. Tio, tio,\ntio, tio, tio, tio, tio! trioto, trioto, totobrix! Torotorotorotorolix!\nCiccabau, ciccabau! Torotorotorotorotililix.\"\n\nRapidity of utterance was also aimed at in some parts of the choruses,\nand sometimes very long words had to be pronounced without pause--such\nas green-grocery-market-woman, and garlic-bread-selling-hostesses. At\nthe end of the Ecclesiazusae, there is a word of twenty-seven\nsyllables--a receipt for a mixture--as multifarious in its contents as a\nYorkshire pie.\n\nWe may conclude that there was a humour in tone as well as of rhythm in\nfashion before the time of Aristophanes, and we read that there was a\ncertain ventriloquist named Eurycles; but Aristophanes must be content\nto bear the reproach of having been the first to introduce punning. He\nprobably had accomplices among his contemporaries, but they have been\nlost in obscurity. Playing with words seems to have commenced very\nearly. The organs of speech are not able to produce any great number of\nentirely different sounds, as is proved by the paucity of the vowels and\nconsonants we possess. To increase the vocabulary, syllables are grouped\ntogether by rapid utterance, and distinctions of time were made.\nSimilarities in the length and flow of words began soon to be noticed,\nand hence arose the idea of parallelism, that is of poetry--a similarity\nof measure. A likeness in the tone of words, in the vowel and consonant\nsounds, was afterwards observed, and became the foundation of punning.\nThe difference between rhythm and puns is partly that of degree--and the\nlatter were originally regarded as poetical. Simonides of Ceos called\nJupiter Aristarchus, _i.e._, the best of rulers; and AEschylus spoke of\nHelen as a \"hell,\"[13] but neither of them intended to be facetious.\nAristotle ranked such conceits among the ornaments of style; and we do\nnot until much later times find them regarded as ludicrous.\n\nWith Aristophanes they are humorous, and his ingenuity in representing\nthings as the same because their names were so, would not have been\nunworthy of a modern burlesque writer. They, perhaps, were more\nappreciated at that time from their appearing less common and less\neasily made. But there is a worse direction than any above mentioned, in\nwhich Aristophanes truckled to the low taste of his day. The modern\nreader is shocked and astounded at the immense amount of indelicacy\ncontained in his works. It ranges from the mild impropriety of saying\nthat a girl dances as nimbly as a flea in a sheepskin, or of naming\nthose other industrious little creatures he euphemistically calls\n\"Corinthians,\" to a grand exhibition of the blessings of Peace under the\nform of a young lady, the liberal display of whose charms would have\npetrified a modern Chamberlain. In one place, Trygaeus is riding to\nheaven on a dung-beetle, and of course a large fund of amusement is\nobtained from the literal and metaphorical manipulation of its food.\nSocrates' disciples are discovered in a kneeling posture, with their\nheads on the ground. \"What are they doing?\" inquires the visitor. \"They\nare in search of things below the earth.\" \"And why are their backs up in\nthe air?\" \"With them they are studying astronomy.\"\n\nThese passages will give some faint idea, though not an adequate one, of\nthe coarseness of Aristophanes' humour. The primitive character of it is\nmarked by the fact that the greater portion has no reference to the\nsexes.\n\nIt is a crumb of comfort to know that women were not generally present\nat performances of comedies, and Aristotle says that young men should\nnot be allowed to attend them until they are old enough to sit at table\nand get drunk. Moreover, to be humorous the comedian must necessarily\nhave exceeded the bounds of ordinary usage. Aristophanes occasionally\ndeplores the degeneracy of his times,--the youth of the period making\n\"rude jests,\" but his own writings are the principal evidence of this\ndepravity. His allusions are not excusable on the ground of ignorance;\nthey are intentionally impure. There was once an age of innocence--still\nreflected in childhood, and among some unprogressive races--in which a\nsort of natural darkness hung over the thoughts and actions of men,--but\nit was in reality an age of ignorance. When light broke forth delicacy\nsprang up, and when by degrees one thing after another had been\nforbidden and veiled from sight by the common consent of society, there\nwas a large borderland formed outside immorality upon which the\ntrespasser could enter and sport; and much could be said which was\nobjectionable without giving serious offence. Before the days of\nAristophanes and the comic performances for which he wrote, very little\ngenius or enterprise was directed into the paths of humour, but now\nevery part of them was explored. Indelicacy would here afford great\nassistance, from the attraction it possesses for many people and the\nease with which it is understood. Something perhaps is due to the fact\nthat Greece had now reached the highest point of her prosperity, and\nthat a certain amount of lawlessness prevailed as her brilliancy began\nto tremble and fade. From whatever cause it arose, Aristophanes stands\nbefore us as one of the first to introduce this base ornamentation. The\nmost remarkable circumstance connected with it is that he assigns a\nlarge part of his coarse language to women. His object was to amuse a\nnot very refined audience, and one that relished something\npreposterous.\n\nThus Aristophanes lowered his style to the level of his audience, but in\nhis brighter moments, forgetting his failings and exigencies, he disowns\nexpedients unworthy of the comic art. He says he has not like\n\"Phrynicus, Lycis, and Amisias\" introduced slaves groaning beneath their\nburdens, or yelping from their stripes; he comes away, \"a year older\nfrom hearing such stage tricks.\" \"It is not becoming,\" he observes in\nanother place for a dramatic poet to throw figs and sweetmeats to the\nspectators to force a laugh, and \"we have not two slaves throwing nuts\nfrom a basket.\" In _his_ plays \"the old man does not belabour the person\nnext him with a stick.\" He claims that he has made his rivals give up\nscoffing at rags and lice, and that he does not indulge in what I have\ntermed optical humour. He has not, like some of his contemporaries,\n\"jeered at the bald head,\" and not danced the Cordax. He seems in the\nfollowing passage even to despise animal illustrations--\n\n     _Bdelycleon._ Tell me no fables, but domestic stories about men.\n\n     _Philocleon._ Then I know that very domestic story, \"Once on a time\n     there was a mouse and a weazel.\"\n\n     _Bdel._ \"Oh, thou lubberly and ignorant fellow,\" as Theogenes said\n     when he was abusing the scavenger. Are you going to tell a story of\n     mice and weazels among men?\n\nLike most humorists he blames in one place what he adopts in another.\n\nPlato had so high an opinion of Aristophanes that, in reply to Dionysius\nof Syracuse, he sent him a copy of his plays as affording the best\npicture of the commonwealth of Athens. This philosopher is also said to\nhave introduced mimes--a sort of minor comedy--from Sicily, and to have\nesteemed their composer Sophron so highly that he kept a copy of his\nworks under his pillow. Plato appreciated humour, was fond of writing\nlittle amatory couplets, and among the epigrams attributed to him is the\nfollowing dedication of a mirror by a fading beauty, thus rendered by\nPrior:--\n\n  \"Venus, take this votive glass,\n   Since I am not what I was!\n   What I shall hereafter be,\n   Venus, let me never see!\"\n\nPlato objected to violent laughter as indicative of an impulsive and\nill-regulated temper, observing \"that it is not suitable for men of\nworth, much less for the gods,\" the first part of which remark shows\nthat he was not emotional, and the second that a great improvement in\ncritical taste had taken place since the early centuries of Homer and\nDavid.\n\nAs youth is romantic, and old age humorous, so in history sentiment\nprecedes criticism and poetry attained a high degree of excellence,\nwhile humour was in its infancy. Comedy is said to have been produced\nfirst in Sicily by Susarion in 564 B.C., but we have only two\nor three lines by which to judge of his work, and they are on the old\nfavourite topic. \"A wife is an evil, but you can't live in a house\nwithout one.\" As it is said his wife left him, it must be considered\ndoubtful whether this was not meant seriously. He was succeeded by\nEpicharmus, whose humour seems to have been of a very poor description.\nHis subjects were mostly mythological, and he was fond of representing\nthe gluttony of Hercules, and Bacchus making Vulcan drunk. In the more\nintellectual direction his taste was entirely philosophical, so much so\nthat Plato adopted many of his views. We may safely assert that no comic\nperformance worthy of the name took place until towards the end of the\nfifth century,[14] though in the meantime the tragic drama had reached\nits highest point of excellence. One _Satyric_ play, so called because\nthe chorus was formed of Satyrs, was put on the stage with three\ntragedies by those competing for the dramatic prize. It seems to have\nbeen mythological and grotesque rather than comic, but in the Cyclops\nof Euripides, the only specimen extant, we have feasting and wine\ndrinking, the chorus tells Polyphemus he may swallow any milk he pleases\nso that he does not swallow them--which the Cyclops says he would not do\nbecause they might be dancing in his stomach--and Silenus recommends the\nCyclops to eat Ulysses' tongue, as it will make him a clever talker.\n\nAfter the time of Aristophanes, the literary, and, we may say, the\nsocial humour of Greece altered. It grew less political as liberty\nbecame more restricted, and men's minds were gradually diverted by\nbusiness and foreign trade from that philosophical and artistic\nindustry, which had made Athens the centre of the world. The brighter\npart of the country's genius descended to effeminate pursuits, and\nemployed itself in the development of amorous fancies. In the comedies\nwhich came into favour, the dramatis personae represented a strange\nsociety of opulent old men, spendthrift sons, intriguing slaves, and\ncourtezans. If we did not know what temptation there is to make literary\ncapital out of the tender passion, we might suppose that the youth of\nthat day were entirely occupied in clandestine amours, and in buying and\nselling women as if they were dogs and parrots. No wonder that \"to live\nlike the Greeks\" became a by-word and reproach. Beyond this, the authors\nthrow the whole force of their genius into the construction of the plot,\nupon the strength and intricacy of which their success depends; and the\nmanagement of the various threads of the story so as to meet together in\nthe conclusion, shows a great improvement in art since the days of\nAristophanes. Advancing time seems also to have brought a greater\nrefinement in language. The indelicacy we now meet with is almost\nentirely of an amatory character, and not quite of so low a description\nas that previously in use. But in quantity it was greater. Philemon, who\nis said to have died from a fit of laughter caused by seeing an ass eat\nfigs, wrote much that was objectionable; and Diphilus was probably\nlittle better. Philemon found coarseness answer, and was more often\ncrowned, and a greater favourite than Menander, who is reported to have\nsaid to him, \"Do you not blush to conquer me?\" but it may be doubted\nwhether even the latter was as free from indelicacy as is generally\nsupposed. Plautus and Terence both complain that they cannot find a\nreally chaste Greek play.\n\nThe age of Greek fables, that is the period when they were in common use\nin writing and conversation, was now drawing to a close. A few remain\nin Callimachus, and Suidas quotes some of perhaps the same date. At this\ntime Demetrius Phalareus made a prose collection of what were called\nAEsop's Fables--as we seek to perpetuate the memory of that which is\npassing away. Babrius, also, who performed the same charitable office in\n\"halting iambics,\" like those of Hipponax, may be supposed to have\nflourished about this period, although it has been contended that he was\na Roman and lived in the Augustan age. However this may be, fabular\nillustrations began to drop out of fashion soon after this time, and by\ndegrees were so far disallowed, that the man, who would have related\nsuch stories, would have been regarded as ludicrous rather than\nhumorous. Although Phaedrus Romanized AEsop's Fables, and gave them a\npoetical meaning, he never gained any fame or popularity by them.\nMartial calls him \"improbus,\" _i.e._, a rascal.\n\nIn these and earlier days, besides the humour exhibited in comedies, a\nconsiderable amount was displayed at public festivals and private\nentertainments. In the Homeric hymn to Mercury, we read that the god\nextemporized a song, \"just as when young men at banquets slily twit each\nother.\" When the cups flowed, and the conversation sparkled, men\nindulged in repartee, or capped each other in verses. One man, for\ninstance, would quote or compose a line beginning and ending with a\ncertain letter, and another person was called upon for a similar one to\ncomplete the couplet. Sometimes the line commenced with the first\nsyllable of a word, and ended with the last, and a corresponding conceit\nwas to be formed to answer it. The successful competitors at these games\nwere to be kissed and crowned with flowers; the unsuccessful to drink a\nbowl of brine. These verbal devices were too simple and far-fetched to\nbe humorous, but were, to a certain extent, amusing, and no doubt the\nforfeits and rewards occasioned some merriment.\n\nA coarser kind of humour originated in the market-place, where professed\nwags of a low class were wont to congregate, and amuse themselves by\nchaffing and insulting passers-by. Such men are mentioned centuries\nafterwards by St. Paul as \"lewd fellows of the baser sort,\"--an\nexpression which would be more properly rendered \"men of the\nmarket-place.\" Such centres of trade do not seem to have been improving\nto the manners, for we read of people \"railing like bread-women,\" and of\nthe \"rude jests\" of the young men of the market.[15] Lysistratus was\none of these fellows in Aristophanes' days, and his condition seems to\nhave been as miserable as his humour, for his garment had \"shed its\nleaves,\"[16] and he was shivering and starving \"more than thirty days in\nthe month.\"\n\nBy degrees, as wealth increased, there came a greater demand for\namusement. Jesters obtained patrons, and a distinct class of men grew\nup, who, having more humour than means were glad to barter their\npleasantries for something more substantial. Wit has as little tendency\nto enrich its possessor as genius--the mind being turned to gay and idle\nrather than remunerative pursuits, and into a destructive rather than a\nconstructive channel. Talent does not imply industry, and where the\nstock in trade consists of luxuries of small money value, men make but a\nprecarious livelihood. One of them says that he will give as a fortune\nto his daughter \"six hundred _bon mots_--all pure Attic,\" which seems to\nsuggest that they were to be puns. No doubt it was the demand that led\nto the supply, for jesters were in request at convivial meetings, and\nthe jealousy of their equally poor, but less amusing neighbours, not\nimprobably led to some of the ill-natured reflections upon them. Society\nwas to blame for encouraging the parasite, who seems to have become an\ninstitution in Greece. He is not mentioned by Aristophanes, but figures\nconstantly in the plays of later writers, where he is a smooth-tongued\nwitty varlet, whose aim is to make himself agreeable, and who is ready\nto submit to any humiliation in order to live at other people's expense.\nThus Gelasimus--so called, as he avers, because his mother was a\ndroll--laments the changed times. He liked the old forms of expression,\n\"Come to dinner--make no excuse;\" but now it is always, \"I'd invite you,\nonly I'm engaged myself.\" In another place a parasite's stomach is\ncalled a \"bottomless pit,\" and they are said to \"live on their juices\"\nwhile their patrons are away in the country. Their servility was, of\ncourse, exaggerated in comedy to make humorous capital, but as they were\npoor and of inferior social standing to those with whom they consorted,\nthey were sure occasionally to suffer indignities varying in proportion\nto the bad taste and insolence of their patrons. Thus we read that they\nnot only sat on benches at the lower end of the table, but sometimes had\ntheir faces daubed and their ears boxed. In the ambiguous position they\noccupied, they were no doubt exposed to temptations, but we are not to\nsuppose that they were generally guilty of such short-sighted treachery\nas that attributed to them by the dramatists. Still, they certainly were\nin bad repute in their generation, and hence we are enabled to\nunderstand Aristotle's observation that he who is deficient in humour is\na boor, but he who is in culpable excess is a _bomolochos_, or thorough\nscoundrel. He would connect the idea of great jocosity with unprincipled\ndesigns.\n\nPhiloxenus, had a more independent spirit than most parasites, and the\nhistory of his sojourn in Syracuse gives us an amusing insight into the\nstate of Court life in Sicily 400 years B.C. He was an Athenian\ndithyrambic poet and musician; and as Dionysius affected literature, he\nwas welcomed at his palace, where he wrote a poem entitled \"The\nBanquet,\" containing an account of the luxurious style of living there\nadopted. Philoxenus was probably the least esteemed guest at these\nfeasts, of which, but for him no record would survive. He was a man of\nhumour, and some instances of his quaintness remain. On one occasion,\nwhen supping with the tyrant, a small mullet was placed before him, and\na large one before Dionysius. He thereupon took up his fish and placed\nit to his ear. Dionysius asked him why he did so, to which he replied\nthat he was writing a poem, called \"Galataea,\" and wanted to hear some\nnews from the kingdom of Nereus. \"The fish given to him,\" he added,\n\"knew nothing about it, because it had been caught so young; but no\ndoubt that set before Dionysius would know everything.\" The tyrant, we\nare told, laughed and sent him his mullet. As might have been\nanticipated, he soon greatly offended Dionysius, who actually sent him\nto work in the stone-quarries; but the cause of his misfortune is\nuncertain. Athenaeus attributes it to his falling in love with a\nfavourite \"flute-girl\" of Dionysius, and says that in his \"Galataea,\" he\ncaricatured his rival as the Cyclops. According to another account, his\ndisgrace was owing to his having, when asked to revise one of Dionysius'\npoetical compositions, crossed out the whole of it from beginning to\nend. He was, however, restored to favour, and seated once more at the\nroyal table; but, unfortunately, the tyrant had again been perpetrating\npoetry, and recited some of his verses, which were loudly applauded by\nall the courtiers. Philoxenus was called upon to join in the\ncommendation, but instead of complying, he cried out to the guards,\n\"Take me back to the quarries.\" Dionysius, took the joke and pardoned\nhim. He afterwards left the Syracusan Court, and went to his native\nplace, Cythera; and it was characteristic of his bluntness and wit,\nthat, on being invited by the tyrant to return, he replied by only one\nletter of the alphabet signifying \"NO.\"\n\nAnd now a most grotesque figure stands before us--it is that of\nDiogenes, who was a youth at the time of Aristophanes' successes, and\nwas, no doubt by many, classed with those rude idlers of the\nmarket-place of whom we have already spoken. Some people have questioned\nhis claim to be regarded as a philosopher. He does not appear to have\nbeen learned, or deeply read; but he was meditative and observant, and\nthat which in an anchorite, or hermit, would have been a mere sentiment,\nand in an ordinary man a vague and occasional reflection, expanded in\nhis mind into a general and practical view of life. Observing that the\nthings we covet are not only difficult of attainment, but unsatisfactory\nin possession, he thought to solve the problem of life by substituting\ncontempt for admiration. He was, probably, somewhat influenced by his\nown condition in this vain attempt to draw sweetness from sour grapes.\nHe was poor, and we find that this despiser of the goods of this world,\nwho considered money to be the \"metropolis of all evils\"--in his youth\ncoined false money, and was banished to Sinope in consequence. Among his\nrecorded sayings, he expresses his surprise that the slaves attending\nat banquets could keep their hands off their master's dainties.\n\nBut we should be doing Diogenes an injustice, if we set him down as a\nmere discontented misanthrope. In giving due weight to unworthy motives,\nwe have looked only at one side--and that the worst--of his character.\nHis mind was of an inquiring speculative cast, and in youth he aspired\nto join the disciples of Zeno. So persistent indeed was he that the\nstoic, unwilling to have such a questionable pupil, one day forgot his\nserene philosophy, and set upon him with a cudgel. Such arguments did\nnot tend to soften Diogenes' disposition, and although he accused man of\nfolly rather than malignity, he went so far to say that a man should\nhave \"reason or a rope.\" He probably thought it easier than Democritus\nto follow wisdom, because he did not see quite so far. Still he showed\nthat he took an interest in social life, and had he been less of a\nmoralist, he would have had better claims to be regarded as a \"wit\" than\nany other character in Grecian history. Many examples could be adduced\nin which his principal object was evidently to be amusing:--\n\nEntering a school in which he saw many statues of the Muses, but few\npupils, \"You have many scholars among the gods,\" he said to the master.\nOn being asked at what time it was proper to dine, \"If you are rich,\nwhen you will; if poor, when you can,\" he replied, perhaps a little\nsadly; and to \"What wine do you like to drink?\" he quickly responded\n\"Another man's.\" Meeting one, Anaximenes, a very fat man, he called out,\n\"Give us poor fellows some of your stomach; it will be a great relief to\nyou, and an advantage to us.\"\n\nThat Diogenes recognised humour as a means of drawing attention and\nimpressing the memory, is shown by the story that on one occasion, when\nhe was speaking seriously and found no one attending, he began to\nimitate the singing of birds, and when he had thus collected a crowd,\ntold them they were ready to hear folly but not wisdom. There was also,\nprobably, in adopting this form a desire to preclude the possibility of\nhis being contradicted. He was thus proof against criticism--if his\nstatements were said to be false--well, they were intended to be so;\nwhile, if they raised a laugh, there was an admission that they\ncontained some seeds of truth. The following are examples of his\ndisguised wisdom:--\n\nOn being asked when a man should marry, \"A young man not yet; an old man\nnot at all,\" he replied. \"Why men gave money to beggars and not to\nphilosophers?\" \"Because they think they may themselves become blind and\nlame, but never philosophers.\" When Perdiccas threatened that unless he\ncame to him he would kill him, \"You would do no great thing,\" he\nreplied, \"even a beetle or a spider could do that.\"\n\nWe can scarcely suppose that all the sayings attributed to Diogenes are\ngenuine. There has always been a tendency to attribute to great men\nobservations made in accordance with their manner.\n\nPhilosophers have generally been to a certain extent destructive, and\nseldom spared the religion of their times. Diogenes, who was called\n\"Socrates gone mad,\" was no exception to this rule. Humour, which is\nseasoned with profanity, is most telling when there is not too large an\namount either of faith or scepticism; very few could find any amusement\nin the sneers of an utter infidel. Diogenes was almost as deficient in\nordinary religious belief as in most other kinds of veneration.\nSometimes he may have had the good effect of checking the abuse of\nsacerdotal power, as when he observed to some who were admiring the\nthank offerings at Samothracia, \"There would have been many more, had\nthose made them, who had not been cured.\" He also said that the\nDionysian festival was a great sight for fools, and that when he heard\nprophets and interpreters of dreams, he thought nothing was so silly as\nman. His blaming men for making prayers, because they asked not that\nwhich was good, but only what seemed desirable to them, may be taken in\na favourable sense.\n\nBefore the end of Diogenes' life fanciful conceits became so much\nappreciated in Greece, that a regular \"Court of Humour\" was held at\nHeracleum, a village near Athens, and it is to be feared that many of\nthe racy sayings attributed to eminent men, originated in the sessions\nof this jocund assembly. It was composed of sixty members, and their\nsayings came forth with the stamp of \"The Sixty\" upon them. Their\nreputation became so great, that Philip of Macedon gave them a talent to\nwrite out their jokes, and send them to him. He was himself fond of\ngaiety, invented some musical instruments, and kept professed jesters.\n\nSoon after this time, we read of amateur jesters or rather practical\njesters called _planoi_. Chrysippus, who was not only a philosopher, but\na man of humour--a union we are not surprised to find common at that\ndate--and who is said, perhaps with equal truth, to have died like\nPhilemon in a fit of laughter, on seeing an ass eat figs off a silver\nplate--mentions a genius of this kind, one Pantaleon, who, when at the\npoint of death told each of his sons separately that he confided to him\nalone the place where he had buried his gold. When he was dead, they all\nbetook themselves to the same spot, where they laboured for some time,\nbefore discovering that they had all been deceived.\n\nFrom this period we are mostly indebted to epigrams for any knowledge of\nGreek humour. They originated in inscriptions or offerings in temples;\nafterwards came to be principally epitaphial or sarcastic; and grew into\na branch of literature.\n\nWe can scarcely understand some of the fancies indulged in at the time,\nwhich contain no salt at all--\"Sports,\" Hephaestio calls them. Of these\ndevices may be mentioned the \"Wings of Love\" by Simmias, a Rhodian, who\nlived before 300 B.C. The verses are graduated so as to form a\npair of wings. \"The first altar,\" written by Dosiadas of Rhodes, is the\nearliest instance of a Greek acrostic, or of any one which formed words.\nAn acrostic is a play upon spelling, as a pun is upon sound; and in both\ncases the complication is too slight for real humour. They are rather to\nbe considered as ingenious works of fancy. The first specimens are those\nin the Psalms--twelve of which have twenty-two verses beginning with the\ntwenty-two letters of the Hebrew alphabet. The 119th Psalm is a curious\nspecimen of this conceit; it is divided into twenty-two stanzas, and a\nletter of the alphabet in regular order begins each of them. The initial\nletters of \"The First Altar\" of Dosiadas of Rhodes, form four words, and\nseem to be addressed to some \"Olympian,\" who, the dedicator hopes \"may\nlive to offer sacrifice for many years.\" The altar states that it is not\nstained with the blood of victims, nor perfumed with frankincense, that\nit is not made of gold and silver; but formed by the hand of the Graces\nand the Muses. In the \"Second Altar,\" also usually attributed to\nDosiadas of Rhodes, we find not only a fanciful outline formed by long\nand short verses, but also a studious avoidance of proper names. Not one\nis mentioned, although thirteen persons are designated. It is evident\nthat this \"Altar\" was a work of ingenuity, and intended to be\nenigmatical. Probably the substitutions were also considered to be\nsomewhat playful and amusing, as in Antiphanes--a comic poet, said to\nhave died from an apple falling on his head--we read,\n\n  _A._ Shall I speak of rosy sweat\n       From Bacchic spring?\n\n  _B._ I'd rather you'd say wine.\n\n  _A._ Or shall I speak of dusky dewy drops?\n\n  _B._ No such long periphrasis--say plainly water.\n\n  _A._ Or shall I praise the cassia breathing fragrance\n       That scents the air.\n\n  _B._ No, call it myrrh.\n\nAnother conceit in the form of a Sphinx or Pandean pipe has been\nattributed to Theocritus--perhaps without good foundation.\n\nIn the \"Egg\" there is not only the form of the lines, which gradually\nexpand and then taper downwards, but there is also a great amount of\nsimilitude--the literary egg being compared to a real egg, and the poet\nto the nightingale that laid it. There is also a remarkable involution\nin form--the last line succeeding the first, and so on; and this\nalternation of the verses is compared to the leaping of fawns. The Axe\nor Hatchet is apparently a sort of double axe, being nearly in the form\nof wings; and is supposed to be a dedicatory inscription written to\nMinerva on the axe of Epeus, who made the wooden horse by which Troy was\ntaken.\n\nThe ancient riddles seem to have been generally of a descriptive\ncharacter, and not to have turned upon quibbles of words, like those of\nthe present day. They more corresponded to our enigmas--being\nemblematic--and in general were small tests of ingenuity, some being\nvery simple, others obscure from requiring special knowledge or from\nbeing a mere vague description of things. Of the learned kind were\ndoubtless those hard questions with which the Queen of Sheba proved\nSolomon, and those with which, on the authority of Dius and Menander,\nJosephus states Solomon to have contended with Hiram. The riddle of\nSamson also required special information; and the same characteristics\nwhich marked the early riddles of Asia, where the conceit seems to have\noriginated, is also found in those of Greece. Who could have guessed the\nfollowing \"Griphus\" from Simonides of Ceos, without local knowledge, or\nwith it, could have failed,\n\n  \"I say that he who does not like to win\n   The grasshopper's prize, will give a mighty feast,\n   To the Panopeiadean Epeus.\"\n\nThis means, we are told, that when Simonides was at Carthea he used to\ntrain choruses, and there was an ass to fetch water for them. He called\nthe ass \"Epeus,\" after the water-carrier of the Atridae; and if any\nmember of the chorus was not present to sing, _i.e._, to win the\ngrasshopper's prize, he was to give a choenix of barley to the ass.\nWell might Clearchus say \"the investigation of riddles is not\nunconnected with philosophy, for the ancients used to display their\nerudition in such things.\"\n\nSomewhat of the same character is found in the following from\nAristophanes.\n\n     _People._ How is a trireme a \"dog fox?\"\n\n     _Sausage Seller._ Because the trireme and the dog are swift.\n\n     _People._ But why fox?\n\n     _Sausage Seller._ The soldiers are little foxes, for they eat up\n     the grapes in the farms.\n\nThe simplicity of some of the ancient riddles may be conjectured from\nthe fact that the same word \"griphus\" included such conceits as verses\nbeginning and ending with a certain letter or syllable.\n\nAn instance of the emblematic character of early riddles is seen in that\nproposed by the Sphinx to OEdipus. \"What is that which goes on four\nlegs in the morning, on two in the middle of the day, and on three in\nthe evening?\" And in the riddle of Cleobulus, one of the seven wise men:\n\n\"There was a father, and he had twelve daughters; each of his daughters\nhad thirty children; some were white and others black, and though\nimmortal they all taste of death.\"\n\nAlso in the following griphi, which are capable of receiving more than\none answer.\n\nThe first two are respectively by Eubulus and Alexis--writers of the\n\"New Comedy\"--who flourished in the first half of the 4th century,\nB.C.\n\n  \"I know a thing, which while it's young is heavy,\n   But when it's old, though void of wings, can fly,\n   With lightest motion out of sight of earth.\n\n  \"It is not mortal or immortal either\n   But as it were compounded of the two,\n   So that it neither lives the life of man\n   Nor yet of god, but is incessantly\n   New born again, and then again\n   Of this its present life invisible,\n   Yet it is known and recognised by all.\"\n\nFrom Hermippus:--\n\n  \"There are two sisters, one of whom brings forth,\n   The other and in turn becomes her daughter.\"\n\nDiphilus, in his Theseus, says, there were once three Samian damsels,\nwho on the day of the festival of Adonis delighted themselves with\nriddles. One of them proposed, \"What is the strongest of all things?\"\nAnother answered, \"Iron, because it is that with which men dig and cut.\"\nThe third said, \"The blacksmith, for he bends and fashions the iron.\"\nBut the first replied, \"Love, for it can subdue the blacksmith himself.\"\n\nThe following is from Theadectes, a pupil of Isocrates, who lived about\n300 B.C., and wrote fifty tragedies--none of which survive.\n\n  \"Nothing which earth or sea produces,\n   Nought among mortals hath so great increase.\n   In its first birth the largest it appears,\n   Small in its prime, and in old age again,\n   In form and size it far surpasses all.\"[17]\n\nTo make a riddle, that is a real test of ingenuity for all, and which\nbut one answer satisfies, shows an advanced stage of the art. The\nancient riddles were almost invariably symbolical, and either too vague\nor too learned. They seem to us not to have sufficient point to be\nhumorous, but no doubt they were thought so in their day.\n\nIt may not be out of place here to advert to those light compositions\ncalled Silli, about which we have no clear information, even with regard\nto the meaning of the name. From the fragments of them extant, we find\nthat they were written in verse, and contained a considerable amount of\npoetical sentiment; indeed, all that has come down to us of Xenophanes,\nthe first sillographer, is of this character. We are told that he used\nparody, but his pleasantry, probably, consisted much of after-dinner\njests and stories, for we find that although he praises wisdom, and\ndespises the fashionable athletic games, he rejoiced in sumptuous\nbanquets, and said that the water should first be poured into the cup,\nthen the wine. But the most celebrated sillographer was Timon the\nPhliasian--intimate with Antigonus and Ptolemy Philadelphus--who wrote\nthree books of Silli, two in dialogues, and one in continuous narrative.\nHe was a philosopher, and the principal object of his work was to bring\nother sects into ridicule and discredit. A few reflections of general\napplication are scattered through it, but they are in general quite\nsubsidiary and suggested by the subject matter.\n\n\n\n\nPART III.\n\nROMAN HUMOUR.\n\nRoman Comedy--Plautus--Acerbity--Terence--Satire--Lucilius--Horace--Humour\n  of the Caesar Family--Cicero--Augustus--Persius--Petronius--Juvenal\n  --Martial--Epigrammatist--Lucian--Apuleius--Julian the Apostate--The\n  Misopogon--Symposius' Enigmas--Macrobius--Hierocles and Philagrius.\n\n\nThe light of genius which shone in Greece was to some extent reflected\nupon Rome, where there was never an equal brilliancy. As for humour,\nsuch as was indigenous in the country, it was only represented by a few\nSaturnian snatches, some Fescennine banterings at weddings and\nharvest-homes, and rude pantomimic performances also originating in\nEtruria. Intellectual pleasantry was unknown, except as an exotic, and\nflourished almost exclusively among those who were imbued with the\nliterature of Greece.\n\nAbout the date at which we arrived at the end of the last chapter--the\nmiddle of the third century, B.C.--the first regular play was\nintroduced at Rome by Livius Andronicus. He was a Greek slave, having\nbeen taken prisoner at the capture of Tarentum. Scarcely anything\nremains by which to judge of his writings, but we know that he copied\nfrom Greek originals. His plays were, no doubt, mostly appreciated by\nthe better educated classes of the audience. He had a rival in\nNoevius, a Campanian by birth, who also copied from the Greek, but\nretained something of the Fescennine licence, or rather, we should say,\nhad much of the hostile humour common to the earlier periods of Greece\nand Rome. So violent were his attacks upon the leading men of the day,\nthat he was imprisoned, and finally died in exile at Utica. This early\nconnection of comedy with abuse and buffoonery was probably one cause of\nprofessional actors being held in contempt in Rome. We read that they\nwere frequently slaves, who were whipped if they came late. At the same\ntime native scurrility was allowed. Freeborn Romans might act for\namusement in the Atellane plays, which were considered to be Italian,\nand were accompanied by broad \"Exodia\" or pantomimic interludes\ncontaining regular characters such as Maccus the clown, Buccones the\nchatterers, Pappus the pantaloon, and Simus, the ape. But these\nproductions came from Campania, and it is probable that the better\nparts of them were Greek in spirit, though not in form.\n\nSome fifty years later brings us to Plautus--the most remarkable of the\nRoman comic writers. Little is known of his origin, except that he was\nborn in Umbria. There is a story that at one time he was in so humble a\nposition that he was employed in grinding corn for a baker; but, if so,\nhe must have possessed extraordinary ability and perseverance to acquire\nsuch a thorough knowledge of Greek and Latin. The fact of his adopting\nthe stage as a profession, and acting in his own dramas, proves that he\nwas not encumbered with rank or wealth. His plays were numbered among\nthe classics, and were produced upon the stage till the time of\nDiocletian, five hundred years after his death; he generally copied from\nthe Greek, often naming the author to whom he was indebted.\n\nPlautus is interesting, not only as giving us an insight into the Greek\nmode of life before his time, and preserving many of the works of\nPhilemon, Diphilus, and others, but as being the only Latin writer of\nhis date whose productions have survived. He wrote one hundred and\nthirty plays, of which thirty are extant, and show an orthography very\ndifferent from that of the Augustan age. His style was forcible, and\nlike that of all the Latin comic writers, highly complex. He sometimes\ncoins words, (such as Trifurcifur, gugga,[18] parenticida,) and he is\nconstantly giving new metaphorical senses to those already in use--as\nwhen he speaks of a man being a \"hell of elms,\" _i.e._, severely flogged\nwith elm-rods--calls cooks \"briars,\" because they take fast hold of\neverything they touch, and threatens a slave with \"memorials of oxen,\"\n_i.e._, a thrashing that will make him remember the thong.\n\nWe may possibly trace the Greek original in a few references to\nconversations of animals--although no plays are now called after\nthem--and the names, places, and money he introduces are generally\nGreek. Still, we cannot regard him as a mere servile imitator--much of\nhis own genius is doubtless preserved in the plays. In some, we can\nclearly recognise his hand, as where he alludes to Roman customs, or\nindulges in puns. For instance, where a man speaks of the blessing of\nhaving children, (liberi,) another observes he would rather be _free_\n(liber). In \"The Churl,\" we read that it is better to fight with minae\nthan with menaces, and a lover says that Phronesium has expelled her own\nname (wisdom) from his breast.\n\nAn old man says he has begun to go to school again, and learn his\nletters. \"I know three already,\" he continues, \"What three?\" is asked,\n\"A M O.\"\n\nWhile we are glad to mark an advancement in less pleasures being derived\nfrom personal threats and conflicts on the stage, we are pained to find\nsuch an entire want of sympathy with the sufferings of those in a\nservile condition. The severity with which slaves were treated in\nprevious times was not mitigated under the Roman rule, and at the\npresent day it is difficult to realise the moral state of those who\ncould derive amusement from hearing men threatened with bull-hidings,\nand flogged on the stage. Such terms as \"whip-knave\" became stale from\nrepetition, and so many jokes were made even about crucifixion, that we\nmight suppose it to be a very trifling punishment. Chrysalus, a slave,\nfacetiously observes, that when his master discovers he has spent his\ngold, he will make him \"cruscisalus\" _i.e._ \"cross jumper.\" In \"The\nHaunted House,\" Tranio, who, certainly seems to have been a great scamp,\nsoliloquises as follows on hearing of his master's return:--\n\n\"Is there any one, who would like to gain a little money, who could\nendure this day to take my place in being tortured? Who are those\nfellows hardened to a flogging, who wear out iron chains, or those who\nfor three didrachmas[19] would get beneath besieging towers, where they\nmight have their bodies pierced with fifteen spears? I'll give a talent\nto that man who shall be the first to run to the cross for me, but on\ncondition that his feet and arms are doubly fastened there. When that is\ndone, then ask the money of me.\"\n\nAcoustic humour appears not only in puns, but under the form of long\nnames of which Plautus was especially fond, Periplecomenus,\nPolymacharoplagides, and Thesaurochrysonicocrae are specimens of his\ninventive genius in this direction.\n\nIn the \"Three Coins,\" Charmides asks the sharper's name.\n\n     _Sh._ You demand an arduous task.\n\n     _Charmides._ How so?\n\n     _Sh._ Because if you were to begin before daylight at the first\n     part of my name 'twould be dead of night before you could reach the\n     end of it. I have another somewhat less, about the size of a wine\n     cask.\n\nIn the \"Persian,\" Toxilus gives his name as follows,\n\n  \"Vaniloquidorus Virginisvendonides\n   Nugipolyloquides Argentiexterebronides\n   Tedigniloquides Nummorumexpalponides\n       Quodsemelarripides\n       Nunquamposteareddides.\"\n\nThere are a few other cases in which there is a playing upon sound, as\nwhere Demipho remarks that if he had such a good-looking girl as\nPasicompsa for a servant, all the people would be \"staring, gazing,\nnodding, winking, hissing, twitching, crying, annoying, and serenading.\"\n\nThe failings of the fair seems always to have been a favourite subject\nfor men's attack, but reflections of this kind have decreased in number\nand acerbity since the days of Aristophanes. We find, however, some in\nPlautus, such as the following:--\n\n\"Love is a fawning flatterer. For he that is in love, soon as ever he\nhas been smitten with the kisses of the object he loves, forthwith his\nsubstance vanishes out of doors, and melts away. 'Give me this, my\nhoney, if you love me.' And then Gudgeon says, 'Oh apple of my eye, both\nthat and still more, if you wish.' He who plunges into love perishes\nmore dreadfully than if he leapt from a rock. Away with you, Love, if\nyou please.\"\n\nHe is fully alive to the power of this destructive passion. In one place\nPhilolaches half mad with love and jealousy sees his mistress looking\ninto a mirror. \"Ah, wretched me,\" he exclaims passionately, \"she gave\nthe mirror a kiss. I wish I had a stone to break the head of that\nmirror.\"[20]\n\nThe love of money has always been a stock subject with humorists. This\ncommon weakness of human nature can be played upon even by those who can\nproduce no other wit, and many worse jokes have been made on it than the\nfollowing,--\n\nCalidorus asks his servant, Pseudolus, to lend him a drachma.\n\n     _P._ What for?\n\n     _C._ To buy a rope to hang myself.\n\n     _P._ Who then will pay me back? Do you wish to hang yourself to\n     cheat me out of my drachma?\n\nThe \"Concealed Treasure\" turns on an old man having found a pot of gold.\nHe conceals it, and his nervousness lest some one should discover it is\nbrought out with excellent humour. He drives the cooks out of the place\nwith his stick. He has a battle-royal with a dunghill cock, who, he\nimagines is trying to scratch for it, then thinks Strobilus has stolen\nit, and calls on him to show one hand, and the other, and then the\nthird.\n\nWe are the more inclined to lament the utter destruction of ancient\nAfrican literature on finding that the most refined Roman dramas were\nplaced upon the stage by a Carthaginian, when Plautus, whose enterprize\nand perseverance had given the great impetus to Latin comedy, was\napproaching the end of his long life. Terence was born the last, and as\nsome think the greatest master in this branch of Art. He was at one time\na slave, but his literary talent was so remarkable that his master set\nhim free, and he became the friend of distinguished men, especially of\nScipio the younger. It must seem strange that this brilliancy should\nhave flashed up for a moment, and then been for ever quenched, but it\nwas derived from Greece and not in its nature enduring. The genius of\nMenander fed the flame of Terence, as that of Diphilus and others gave\npower to Plautus, and it may well be supposed that men of their talent\nappropriated all that was most excellent, and left their successors to\ndraw from inferior sources. It may, moreover, be doubted, whether the\nregular drama was ever popular among the lower classes in Rome, who\npreferred the more exciting scenes of the circus. Such plays as were\nintended for them were coarser and more sensational.\n\nTerence has not the rough power and drollery of Plautus; his whole\nattraction lies in the subtlety of his amorous intrigues. Steele,\nspeaking of one of the plays, \"The Self-Tormentor,\" observes, \"It is\nfrom the beginning to the end a perfect picture of human life, but I did\nnot observe in the whole one passage that could possibly raise a laugh.\"\nIt was for this reason, no doubt, that Caesar spoke of him as only \"half\na Menander,\" and as deficient in comic force. Ingenious complexity is so\nexclusively his aim, that we have neither the coarseness nor the sparkle\nof earlier writers. He was the first to introduce Comedies, which were\nnot comic, and whatever humour he introduces is that of situation.\n\nWe now come to consider a kind of humour of which the Romans claim to\nhave been the originators, and which they certainly developed into a\nbranch of literature. Satire first signified a basket of first fruits\noffered to Ceres; then a hotchpot or olla podrida, then a medley; and so\nthe name was given to poems written without any definite design. We\nmight therefore conclude that they possessed no uniform character, but\nmerely contained a mixture of miscellaneous matter. But we find in them\nno allusions to politics or war, and but few to the literature and\nphilosophy of the day--their variety being due to their social\ncomplexion. One feeling and character pervades them all--they were\ncalled forth by a scornful indignation at the degeneracy of the age as\nrepresented by the rich and powerful, or even by certain leading\nindividuals. The appearance of such a kind of literature denoted greater\nactivity in society, an increase of profligacy among some, and of moral\nsensibility among others. Satire was a social scourge. It was not a\nphilosophical investigation into the nature and origin of vice, but a\ndenunciation of it as inimical to the interests of society. It was\npractical not theoretical--and sought to bring vice into contempt, by\nmaking it both odious and ridiculous. In the latter attempt, the\nsatirists may have had more success than we credit them with, for in our\nday such virulent attacks would be distasteful, immorality being\nregarded as essentially a matter for grave and serious condemnation.\nSatire differs from abuse, not only in being declamatory, but in being\ndeserved. The amusement in it mostly depends upon the deformity of the\nsensual, the failures of the wicked, and the exposure of guilt in a kind\nof moral pillory. It did not aim at mere accidental losses or\nimperfections, and made no fanciful accusations merely to amuse, but it\nwas often lightened by metaphor, by coined words, and especially by\nexaggeration.\n\nThe satire of Rome, though in a certain sense new, seems to have been\nsomewhat derived from Greece. Ennius, who commenced it, a man younger\nthan Plautus and older than Terence, was himself half a Greek. He wrote\nepic poems and comedies, and also introduced this comic literature for\nprivate reading. Lucilius, who was the first eminent Roman satirist, is\nsaid to have imitated the old Greek comedies. His attacks are very\nsevere and personal, reminding us a little of Archilochus, though\napparently not written to gratify any private spleen. The tendency to\npersonalities marked a time when the range of society and the tone of\nthought were equally narrow. Moral depravity was considered to be\ncentred in a few individuals, and in the broken fragments of Lucilius'\nrage, which have descended to us, we find a man stigmatised as an\n\"ulcer,\" \"gangrene,\" a \"poison,\" \"jibber,\" \"shuffler,\" \"a hard-mouthed\nobstinate brute.\" Sometimes he ridicules the bodily infirmities of the\ndepraved; but Lucilius' attacks seem less ill-natured and more justly\nhumorous from being always directed against the vicious and demoralised.\nOccasionally he indulges in such uncomplimentary expressions as \"There\nis no flummery-maker equal to you,\" while some are hailed with \"Long\nlife to you, glutton, gormandizer, and belly-god.\" He might truly say in\nhis metaphorical language, \"I seize his beak and smash his lips,\nZopyrus' fashion, and knock out all his front teeth.\"\n\nThe satire of Horace was exceptionally mild; with him its social\ncharacter was much more marked than its acerbity. In many places he\nshows Greek reflections, for he had received a liberal education, duly\ncompleted at Athens. But his philosophy did not consist of dreamy\ntheories and arbitrary rules--it was directed to practical ends, to the\nharmonizing of the feelings, and the elevation of society. As a man of\nthe world, he was not carried away by fancies, nor given to exaggerated\nviews; and as a companion of the great, he was not inclined to inveigh\nbitterly against the degeneracy of the times. On the contrary, so kindly\nwere his feelings, that he tells us that we should overlook the vices of\nour friends. His teaching, both in spirit and range, was broader than\nthat of his predecessors; his shafts were directed against classes\nrather than individuals, and wherever he is more pointed, his object is\nnot to gratify personal spite, but to make his warning more forcible by\nillustration. Moreover, his names are generally unreal. In this way he\nattacks Nasidienus on the excessive luxury of the table, and his advice\nwas applicable not only to the rich and great, but to more ordinary men.\nThus, he shows the bad tendencies of avarice and love-intrigues, and the\nmeanness of sycophantism and legacy-hunting. Many of the faults he\ncondemns are rather errors in taste than serious moral delinquencies.\nSometimes he criticises merely trivial matters, such as a costume or a\nscent. \"Rufillus smells all perfumes, Gorgonius like a goat,\" and the\nmost humorous of his pieces is that in which he ridicules the ignorance\nand impudence of a manoeuvring chatterer. But in this line he is not\nvery successful, and his contests of rival jesters are as much beneath\nthe notice of any good writer of the present day, as his account is of\nPorcius, the jack-pudding \"swallowing cakes whole.\"\n\nHorace says that men are more impervious to slashing reproach than to\nfine ridicule, and he was unusually adroit in hitting foibles without\ninflicting pain. He was not a man who held strong opinions on subjects.\nThis is especially evident where he speaks of his own fickleness; and\nwhile he reiterates his dislike of Rome, with its noise and bustle, he\nmakes his slave say that this is but affectation, and when an invitation\ncomes from Mecaenas, \"Mulvius and the 'scurrae' are turned out,\" from\nwhich we learn that parasites had their parasites, and that Horace in\nthe country played the patron to the rustic wits.\n\nAlthough the Romans generally have no claim to be called a humorous\npeople, many of them became celebrated for their talent in repartee.\nScipio Africanus AEmilianus above mentioned, was remarkable in this way,\nas was Crassus, Granius, Vargula, and others. There was a good old joke\nthat Nasica having called at the house of the poet Ennius, and the\nmaid-servant having told him that Ennius was not at home, he perceived\nshe had said so by her master's order; and when, a few days afterwards,\nEnnius called at Nasica's house, and inquired for him, Nasica cried out\nthat he was \"not at home.\" \"What!\" says Ennius, \"do I not know your\nvoice?\" \"You are an impudent fellow,\" replied Nasica, \"I believed your\nservant when she said you were not at home, and you will not believe\nme.\"\n\nA vein of humour seems to have run through the Caesar family. Caius\nJulius Caesar Strabo Vopiscus was so noted for the gift that Cicero in\nhis work on Oratory makes him deliver his observations on the subject.\nJulius Caesar himself was as remarkable for pleasantry as for clemency.\nHis \"Veni, vidi, vici,\" in which his enemies saw so much arrogance, was\nno doubt intended and understood by his friends to be humorous. In his\nyouth he was accused of effeminate habits, and when on his obtaining the\nentire command of Gaul, he said that he would now make his enemies his\nsuppliants, and a senator replied sarcastically, \"That will not be an\neasy task for a woman.\" He rejoined with gaiety, \"Semiramis reigned in\nAssyria, and the Amazons possessed a great part of Asia.\" We have\nalready seen him lamenting over the loss of comic force in Terence as\ncompared with Menander, and in the triumphal games given in his honour\nin the year 45, he commanded Decimus Laberius, though a man of sixty, to\nappear on the stage in the contest of wit. This knight was a composer of\nmimes--a light kind of comedy, somewhat to be compared to the\n\"entertainments\" given by humorists at the present day. Julius Caesar\nobliged him to perform in person--an act of degradation--but afterwards\ngave him 500,000 sesterces, and restored him to his rank. This act of\nCaesar's has been regarded as having a political significance, but it may\nmerely have shown his love of humour. He may have wished to bring out\nthe talent of the new mime, Publius, a young Syrian, who had acquired\ngreat celebrity both for beauty and wit. It is said that when his master\nfirst took Publius to see his patron, the latter observed one of his\nslaves, who was dropsical, lying in the sunshine, and asking him angrily\nwhat he was doing there, Publius answered for him \"Warming water.\" On\nthe same visit, in jesting after supper, the question was asked, \"What\nis a disagreeable repose?\" When many had attempted answers, Publius\nreplied, \"That of gouty feet.\"\n\nSome of the sayings of Publius, have been preserved.\n\n\"He receives a benefit who gives to a worthy person.\"\n\n\"He to whom more than is just is allowed, wishes for more than he gets.\"\n\n\"A man who talks well on the road is as good as a carriage.\"\n\n\"He unjustly accuses Neptune who is ship-wrecked twice.\"\n\n\"By overlooking an old injury you invite a new one.\"\n\nThese sayings are of a worldly-wise and proverbial character, and,\ntherefore, as has been already observed, although not actually humorous,\nare easily capable of being so regarded.\n\nCaesar awarded the prize to Publius instead of Laberius, because, as it\nis supposed, of some reflections the latter made upon him. But it may\nhave been that Caesar was right, and Publius' wit was the most salient.\n\nScarcely any specimens remain of Laberius' talent. Aulus Gellius says\nthat he coined many strange words, and he seems to have made\nconsiderable use of alliteration.\n\nWe may suppose that the humour of Cicero was somewhat hereditary, for he\nrecords a saying of his grandfather that \"the men of our time are like\nSyrian slaves; the more Greek they know, the greater knaves they are!\"\nIt is fortunate the grandson inherited the old man's wit without his\nplebeian prejudices, and became as celebrated for his culture as for his\nreadiness. In his work entitled \"The Orator,\" he commends humour as a\nmeans of gaining influence, and a vehicle for moral instruction.\n\"Orators,\" he says, \"joke with an object, not to appear jesters, but to\nobtain some advantage.\" But we may feel sure he did not keep this dry\nand profitable end always in view, for he wrote a jest-book, and was\nnick-named by his enemies \"Scurra Consularis,\"[21] the consular buffoon.\n\nA man can scarcely have a talent for humour without being conscious of\nits fascination, and being sometimes led away by it--as Cicero says, \"it\npleases the listeners\"--but he need not therefore descend to buffoonery.\nWe should not be inclined to accuse a man of that, who tells us that \"a\nregard to proper times, moderation and forbearance in jesting, and a\nlimitation in the number of jokes, will distinguish the orator from the\nbuffoon;\" who says that \"indelicacy is a disgrace, not only to the\nforum, but to any company of well-bred people,\" and that neither great\nvice nor great misery is a subject for ridicule. From all this we may\ngather that Cicero was full of graceful and clever jocosity, but did not\nindulge in what was vapid and objectionable. Both by precept and\npractice he approved good verbal humour. The better class of puns was\nused in the literature of the time, as we find by St. Paul and others,\nnot in levity, but merely as embellishments.[22]\n\nCicero replied to Vibius Curius, who was telling a falsehood about his\nage: \"Then when we declaimed at the schools together, you were not\nborn;\" and to Fabia, Dolabella's wife, who said she was thirty, \"No\ndoubt, for I have heard you say so twenty years.\" When he saw Lentulus,\nhis cousin--a little man girt with a big sword: \"Who,\" he asked, \"has\nfastened my cousin to that sword?\" and on being shown a colossal bust of\nhis brother, who was also small, he exclaimed, \"The half of my brother\nis greater than the whole.\" One day Cicero had supped with Damasippus,\nand his host had said--putting some inferior wine before him--\"Drink\nthis Falernian, it is forty years old!\" \"It bears its age well,\" replied\nCicero.\n\nWe have a most interesting collection of good sayings in \"The Orator,\"\nwhich although not spoken by Cicero himself, were those which he had\nfrom time to time noticed, and probably jotted down. Here is one of\nCaesar's (Strabo). A Sicilian, when a friend made lamentation to him that\nhis wife had hanged herself upon a fig tree: \"I beseech you,\" he said,\n\"give me some shoots of that tree that I may plant them.\" Some one asked\nCrassus whether he should be troublesome if he came to him before it was\nlight. Crassus said, \"You will not.\" The other rejoined, \"You will order\nyourself to be awakened then.\" To which Crassus replied, \"Surely, I said\nthat you would not be troublesome.\"\n\nTo return to the Caesars. The humorous vein which we have traced in the\nfamily descended to Augustus--the great nephew of Julius. Some of his\nsayings, which have survived, show him to have been as pleasant in his\nwit as he was proverbially happy in his fortunes.\n\nWhen the inhabitants of Tarraco made him a fulsome speech, telling him\nthat they had raised an altar to him as their presiding deity, and that,\nmarvellous to relate, a splendid palm tree had grown up on it: \"That\nshows,\" replied the Emperor, \"how often you kindle a fire there.\" To\nGalba, a hunchback orator, who was pleading before him, and frequently\nsaying, \"Set me right, if I am wrong,\" he replied, \"I can easily correct\nyou, but I cannot set you right.\"\n\nThe following will give a slight idea of the variety of his humour.\n\nWhen he heard that, among the children under two years old whom Herod\nhad ordered to be slain, his own son had been killed, he said, \"It is\nbetter to be Herod's pig than his son.\" Being entertained on one\noccasion with a very poor dinner, and without any ceremony, as he was\npassing out he whispered in the ear of his host, \"I did not know that I\nwas such a friend of yours.\" A Roman knight having died enormously in\ndebt, Augustus ordered them to buy him his bed-pillow at the auction,\nobserving: \"The pillow of a man who could sleep when he owed so much\nmust be truly soporific.\" A man who had been removed from a cavalry\ncommand and asked for an allowance, \"not from any mercenary motive, but\nthat I may seem to have resigned upon obtaining the grant from you,\" he\ndismissed with the words: \"Tell everybody you have received it. I will\nnot deny it.\"\n\nAugustus kept a jester, Gabba, and patronised mimes, and among other\ndiversions with which he amused himself and his friends, was that of\ngiving presents by lottery; each drew a ticket upon which something was\nnamed, but on applying for the article a totally different thing was\nreceived, answering to a second meaning of the name. This occasioned\ngreat merriment, a man who thought he was to get a grand present was\ngiven a little sponge, or rake, or a pair of pincers; another who seemed\nto have no claim whatever, obtained something very valuable. The humour\nwas not great, but a little refreshing distraction was thus obtained\nfrom the cares of state. There is no loss in light literature so much to\nbe deplored as that of the correspondence between Augustus and Mecaenas.\nThe latter prided himself upon his skill in poetry and humour, and we\nmay be sure that he sent some of his choicest productions to Augustus,\nwho in turn exerted himself to send something worthy of the eye of so\ncelebrated a critic. It is not impossible that the Emperor showed\nhimself equal, if not superior to the friend of Horace.\n\nThose who succeeded to the imperial purple proved very different from\ntheir illustrious predecessor, and in Persius the severity of Roman\nsatire re-appears. We could scarcely expect a man who lived under Nero,\nand after the reigns of Tiberius, Caligula, and Claudius to write with\nthe mild placidity of the Augustan poet. Moreover, the satires of\nPersius were written at an early age--twenty-eight, and youth always\nfeels acutely, and expresses strongly. Some of his attacks are evidently\naimed at Nero, but his principal object is to denounce the vices of the\ntimes. Hence, indolence and prurient literature are stigmatised. He\nridicules the extremes of extravagance, and of that parsimony by which\nit is usually accompanied. \"Am I on a festive day to have a nettle\ndressed for me, and a smoked pig's cheek with a hole in its ear, in\norder that that grandson of yours may be surfeited with goose liver, and\nindulge in patrician amours. Am I to be a living anatomy that his pope's\nstomach may shake with fat.\"[23] Alluding to the absurdity of the\nprayers generally offered up, he uses language worthy of a Christian.\n\"You ask for vigour, but rich dishes and fat sausages prevent the gods\nfrom granting your behest. You ask what your fleshly mind suggests. What\navails gold in sacrifice? Offer justice to God and man--generous honour,\nand a soul free from pollution.\"\n\nIn Persius we miss the light geniality of Horace and the pure language\nof the Augustan age, but we mark the complexity and finesse of a later\ndate, a form of thought bespeaking a comprehensive grasp, and suitable\nto subtle minds. But as regards his humour it depends much on\nexaggeration, and is proportionably weak, and beyond this we have little\nbut the coining of some words,[24] the using others in unaccustomed\nsenses, and a large seasoning of severity. He evidently aimed rather at\nbeing corrective than amusing, and his covert attacks upon Nero were, no\ndoubt, well understood. Humour of a poor kind was evidently fashionable\nat the day--the Emperor himself wrote Satires and was so fond of comic\nperformances that he first encouraged and rewarded a celebrated\npantomimic actor named Paris, and then put him to death for being his\nrival in the mimetic art. Even Seneca could not resist the example of\nhis contemporaries, and we find the sedate philosopher attacking his\nenemy with severe ridicule. Claudius had him sent into exile for eight\nyears to the picturesque but lonely Island of Corsica; and Seneca who\nliked something more social and luxurious, held him up in a satire\nbordering upon lampoon. The fanciful production was called the\nApolokokyntosis of Claudius; that is his apotheosis, except that,\ninstead of the Emperor being deified, he is supposed to be\n\"gourdified,\" changed not into a god, but into a pumpkin. Seneca, after\nderiding Claudius' bodily defects, accuses him of committing many\natrocities, and finally sends him down from heaven to the nether world,\nwhere a new punishment is invented for him--he is to be always trying to\nthrow dice out of an empty box.\n\nOne of the most remarkable characters in the reign of Nero was Titus\nPetronius Arbiter. He was a great favourite with the Emperor, and held\nsome official appointment--the duties of which he is said to have\ndischarged with ability. In his writings he is supposed to condemn\nimmorality, but he enlarges so much upon what he disapproves that we\ndoubt whether he does not promote the vice he pretends to condemn.[25]\nHis \"Satyricon\" is not intended to be a satire, but an imitation of one\nof those old Greek comedies which treated of the doings of Satyrs and\ngrotesque country deities. It is the first comic prose work, for in\nearly times verse was thought as necessary to humour as to poetry. The\nwhole work is enveloped in a voluptuous atmosphere; it is written in a\ngay roystering style, but although the indelicacy is great the humour\nis small. Occasionally it is interesting, as giving an insight into\nprivate life in the days of Nero. Here we find Trimalchio, a rich man,\nproviding for the amusement of his guests, as well as for their\nsumptuous entertainment. One dish was a wild boar, which was placed on\nthe table with a cap of liberty on its head. Petronius asked the meaning\nof this. \"Why,\" said he, \"your servant could explain that, it is no\nriddle. This boar escaped from yesterday's dinner where it was dismissed\nby the guests, and he now returns to table as a freedman.\" Afterwards a\nmuch larger hog was brought in. \"What!\" cried Trimalchio, looking\nclosely at it, \"is not his inside taken out? No! it is not; call the\ncook, call the cook.\" The cook being brought in, excused himself saying\nthat he forgot. \"Forgot!\" cried Trimalchio, \"why, he talks as if it were\nonly a pinch of pepper omitted. Strip him.\" In a moment the cook was\nstripped to be flogged. All interceded for him, but Petronius felt\nsomewhat indignant at such an oversight, and said he must be a careless\nrascal to forget to disembowel a hog. Trimalchio with a pleasant look\nsaid, \"Come, you with the short memory, see if you can bowel him before\nus.\" The cook slashed with his knife, and out tumbled a load of puddings\nand sausages. All the servants raised a shout, and the cook was\npresented with a cup of wine, and a silver crown.\n\nPetronius shared the fate of Seneca. He was suspected of conspiring\nagainst the Emperor, and his life being demanded, he preferred to suffer\nby his own hand rather than by that of the executioner. He caused his\nveins to be opened, but strangely whimsical to the last, and wishing to\ndie slowly, he had them closed at intervals. In his dying state he was\ndaily carried about the streets of Cumae, and received his friends, made\nlove verses and humorous epigrams, and endeavoured to withdraw his\nthoughts from the sad reality by indulging in all kinds of amusing\ncaprices. At length he expired--another distinguished victim of Nero's\ncruelty.\n\nJuvenal, who wrote under Domitian, a little later than Persius, equalled\nhim in severity--due either to his natural disposition or to the\nspectacle presented by the ever increasing demoralization of Rome. Like\nPersius, he makes use of much metaphor and involution in his\nworks--showing the literary taste and intellectual acumen of a settled\nstate of society, but an early age is impressed upon his pages in the\nindelicacy with which he is frequently chargeable. His depiction of\nguilt was appreciated at that day, but under the Christian dispensation\nvice is thought too sinful, and in a highly civilised state too\ninjurious to be laughable. The views then held were different, and\nTacitus considered it a mark of great superiority in the Germans that\nthey did not laugh at crimes. Juvenal tells us that the Romans jeered at\npoverty. There was much in the character of this satirist to raise him\nin the estimation of right-minded men. His tastes were simple, he loved\nthe country and its homely fare, and although devoid of ambition, was\nhighly cultivated. No doubt he was rather austere than genial: his aim\nwas to instruct and warn rather than amuse; and where he approaches\nhumour it is merely from complexity of style, in coining words and\nbarbarisms, or in comparisons mostly dependent upon exaggeration. The\nfollowing is one of his best specimens, though over-weighted with\nseverity. It gives an idea of the state of Rome at the time. A drunken\nmagnate and his retinue stop a citizen in the street, and insolently\ndemand--\n\n\"With whose vinegar and beans are you blown out? What cobbler has been\neating leeks and sheepshead with you? Answer, or be kicked.\" \"This,\"\nsays Juvenal \"is a poor man's liberty. When pummelled, he begs that he\nmay be allowed to escape with a few of his teeth remaining.\"\n\nJuvenal longs for the sword of Lucilius, and the lamp of Horace, that\nhe may attack the vices of Rome, but he himself is more severe than\neither. Forgers, gamblers and profligates are assailed, and names are\nfrequently given, though we often cannot now decide whether they\nbelonged to real persons. Laughing at those who desire length of years\nwithout remembering the concomitant infirmities of age, he says:\n\n\"All kinds of disease dance around the aged in a troop, of which if you\nwere to ask the names I could sooner tell you how many lovers Hippia\nhad, how many patients Themison killed in one autumn, or how many allies\nBasilus and Hirrus defrauded.\" He condemns the increased desire for\nluxury. \"Do not,\" he warns, \"long for a mullet, when you have only a\ngudgeon in your purse.\" The rule of the day was to purchase sensual\nindulgence at any cost, \"Greediness is so great that they will not even\ninvite a parasite.\" Excessive selfishness leads to every kind of\ndishonesty. \"A man of probity is as rare as a mule's foal, or as a\nshower of stones from a cloud.\" \"What day is so sacred that it fails to\nproduce thieving, perfidy, fraud, gain sought through every crime, and\nmoney acquired by bowl and dagger. The good are so scarce that their\nnumber is barely as great as that of the gates of Thebes, or the mouths\nof the fertilizing Nile.\"\n\nHe attacks every kind of social abuse, and does not even spare the\nladies--some are too fast, some are learned and pedantic, some cruel to\ntheir slaves--even scourging them with cowhides. \"What fault,\" he\nasks, \"has the girl committed, if your own nose has displeased you?\" As\nto religion, that has disappeared altogether. \"What a laugh your\nsimplicity would raise in public, if you were to require of anyone that\nhe should not perjure himself, but believe that there was some deity in\nthe temple, or at the ensanguined altar! That the souls of the departed\nare anything, and the realms below, and the punt-pole and frogs of the\nStygian pool, and that so many thousands pass over in one boat, not even\nthe boys believe, except those who are too young to pay for their bath.\"\n\nThe language used in the last passage is no doubt an example of the\nprofane manner in which some men spoke at that day, but in general, we\nmust remember that these pictures are humorous and overdrawn. Still,\nsome of the offences spoken of with horror by Juvenal were treated\nalmost as lightly by contemporary poets as they had been by\nAristophanes.\n\nThere is a slightly foreign complexion about the productions of Martial,\nwhich reminds us that he was a Spaniard. Even at this time there seems\nto have been a sparkle and richness in the thoughts that budded in that\nsunny clime. Martial was a contemporary of Juvenal, and addressed two or\nthree of his epigrams to him. His works consisted of fourteen books,\ncontaining altogether more than fifteen hundred of these short poems.\n\nThe appearance of such works may be taken as indicative of the condition\nof Rome at the time. The calls of business had become more urgent from\nthe increase of the population and development of commerce, while the\nunsatisfactory state of the Government and of foreign affairs kept men's\nminds in agitation and suspense. Martial himself observes that those\nwere no times for poems of any length, and that some of his friends\nwould not even read his longer pieces, though they never exceeded thirty\nlines. The period demanded something light and short--a book which could\nbe taken up and laid down without any interruption of the narrative. But\nthe swifter current of affairs had also produced a keener or more active\nturn of mind, so that it was necessary not only to be short, but also\npithy. It was not necessary to be humorous, but it was essential to be\nconcise and interesting, and thus Martial gave to the epigram that\ncharacter for point which it has since maintained.\n\nNothing could be more attractive than allusions to contemporary men,\npassing scenes, or novelties of the day, and when we read his works we\nseem to be transported by magic into the streets and houses of ancient\nRome. On one page we have the sanguinary scenes of the circus; in\nanother we see the ladies waving their purple fans, and hear them\ntoasted in as many glasses as they have letters to their names.\n\nFrom this kind of gaiety Martial graduates into another--that of\npleasantry. In an epitaph on his barber, he bids the earth lie light\nupon him, adding, \"It could not be lighter than his artistic hand.\" From\nhis censure of bad wit, it is evident that he drew great distinctions\nbetween broad and subtle humour. \"Every man,\" he says, \"has not a\n_nose_,\" _i.e._, a keen perception--cannot smell a fault. He is very\nseldom guilty of a pun, and says in one place that he has not adopted\nverbal tricks, imitating echoes, or making lines which can be read\nbackwards or forwards.[26] Nor has he any intention to indulge in bitter\nreflections; he says,--\n\n\"My page injures not those it hates, and no reputation obtained at the\nexpense of another is pleasing to me. Some versifiers wish publications\nwhich are but darts dipped in the blood of Lycambus to be mine, and\nvomit forth the poison of vipers under my name. My sport is harmless.\"\n\nBut he well saw that some little severity was necessary for humour, for\nhe chides a dull poet:\n\n\"Although the epigrams which you write are always sweetness itself, and\nmore spotless than a white-leaded skin, and although there is in them\nneither an atom of salt, nor a drop of bitter gall, yet you expect,\nfoolish man, that they will be read. Why, not even food is pleasant if\nwholly destitute of acid seasoning, nor is a face pleasing which shows\nno dimples. Give children your honey, apples, and luscious figs--the\nChian fig, which has sharpness, pleases my taste.\"\n\nFollowing this view we find him often sarcastic, but not personal, the\nnames being fictitious, or if not, those of well known public men. In a\nfew instances he is a little ill-natured, and writes, \"Laugh, if thou\nart wise, girl, laugh, said Ovid, but he did not say this to all girls,\nnot, for instance, to Maximina, who has only three teeth, and those the\ncolour of pitch and boxwood. Avoid the pantomimes of Philistion and gay\nfeasts. It befits you to sit beside an afflicted mother, and a wife\nlamenting her husband. Weep, if thou art wise, girl, weep.\"\n\nMartial often uses the figure called by the Greek grammarians \"contrary\nto expectation.\" The point of the whole epigram lies in the last word or\nline, which changes the drift of the whole.\n\n  \"His funeral pile was strewn with reed,\n   His tearful wife brought fragrant myrrh,\n   The bier, the grave, the ointment were prepared,\n   He named me as his heir, and he--got well.\"\n\n  \"Sorry is Athenagoras not to send the gifts,\n   Which in mid-winter he is wont to send;\n   Whether he be sorry I shall shortly see,\n   But sorry he has certainly made me.\"\n\n  \"You feast so often without me, Lupercus,\n   I've found a way by which to pay you out,\n   I am incensed, and if you should invite me,\n   What would I do, you ask me? Why--I'd come.\"\n\nThe growing appreciation of this kind of writing had already led\nMeleager, a cynic philosopher of Gadara, to form the first collection of\nGreek epigrams, which he prettily termed the anthology or bouquet.\nMartial has been commended at the expense of the Greeks, but he borrowed\nconsiderably from them in form and matter. His epigrams were more\nuniformly suggestive and concentrated than those of any previous writer,\nand he largely contributed to raise such compositions from being merely\ninscriptive into a branch of literature. He opened a new field, and the\nlarger portion of these productions in Greek were written about this\ntime. They are not generally humorous, with the exception of a few from\nPhilo and Leonidas of Alexandria who lived about 60 B.C., from\nAmmianus in 120 B.C., and from Lucilius, a great composer of\nthis kind, of whose history nothing is known but that he lived in the\nreign of Nero. The following are from the last-mentioned.\n\n\"Some say, Nicylla, that thou dyest thy hair, which thou boughtest most\nblack at the market.\"\n\n\"All the astrologers prophesied that my uncle would be long-lived except\nHermocleides, who said he would not be so. This, however, was not until\nwe were lamenting his death.\"\n\nThe following are free translations from the same writer.\n\n  \"Poor Cleon out of envy died,\n   His brother thief to see\n   Nailed near him to be crucified\n   Upon a higher tree.\"\n\nOn a bad painter.\n\n  \"You paint Deucalion and Phaeton,\n   And ask what price for each you should require;\n   I'll tell you what they're worth before you've done,\n   One deserves water, and the other fire.\"\n\nThe works of Lucian are generally regarded as forming a part of Roman\nliterature, although they were written in Greek by a native of Samosata\nin Syria. In them we have an intermingling of the warm imagination of\nthe East with the cold sceptical philosophy of the West. Lucian was\noriginally brought up to be a stone-cutter, but he had an insatiable\ndesire for learning, and in his \"Dream\" he tells us how he seemed to be\ncarried aloft on the wings of Pegasus. He became a pleader at the bar,\nbut soon found that \"deceit, lies, impudence, and chicanery\" were\ninseparable from that profession. In disgust he betook himself to\nphilosophy, but could not restrain his indignation when he found so many\nbase men throwing the blame of their conduct on Plato, Chrysippus,\nPythagoras, and other great men. \"A fellow who tells you that the wise\nman alone is rich, comes the next moment and asks you for money--just as\nif a person in regal array should go about begging.\" He says they pay no\nmore attention to the doctrines they teach than if their words were\ntennis balls to play with in schools. \"There is,\" he continues, \"a story\ntold of a certain king of Egypt, who took a fancy to have apes taught to\ndance. The apes, as they are apt to mimic human actions, came on in\ntheir lessons and improved very fast, and were soon fit to appear on the\npublic stage, and display their skill, dressed in purple robes, with\nmasks on their faces. The spectators were much pleased with them for a\nconsiderable time, when a wag who was present, having brought with him a\nquantity of nuts, threw a handful amongst them. The dance was\nimmediately forgotten, and the performers from pyrrhic dancers, relapsed\ninto apes, who went chattering and snapping at one another, and fighting\nfor nuts; so that in a few moments the masks were crumpled, the clothes\ntorn to rags, and the ape dance, which had been so much extolled,\nterminated amidst peals of laughter. Such is the history of mock\nphilosophers.\"\n\nThe above story may serve to exhibit Lucian's views, and his love of\nhumorous illustration. He indulges in many fancies, such as the\ncomplaint of the letter S against T, which had in Attic been substituted\nfor it.\n\nAnother kind of pleasantry which he brings forward is interesting,\ninasmuch as after having been in fashion among the grammarians, and\nreviving among the monks in the middle ages it has now fallen entirely\nout of use. It may be regarded as being a kind of continuation of the\nphilosophical \"hard questions\" of ancient times, originated with the\nSophists, and was entirely confined to logical subtleties affording\ndiversion, but not awakening any emotion sufficient to cause laughter.\nLucian makes a parasite ask his host after dinner to solve such riddles\nas \"The Sorites and the Reaper,\" and the \"Horned Syllogism.\" The latter\nproposition was, \"What you have not lost that you still have. You have\nnot lost horns, therefore you have horns.\" In \"The Sale of the\nPhilosophers,\" in which Jupiter puts them all up to auction to see what\nwill be bid for them, Chrysippus gives some similar examples. \"A stone\nis a substance, is it not?\" \"Certainly.\" \"A living being is also a\nsubstance.\" \"Yes.\" \"And you are a living being--therefore you are a\nstone.\" Chrysippus then offers to turn him back into a man. \"Is every\nsubstance a living being?\" \"No.\" \"Is a stone a living being?\" \"No.\" \"But\nyou are a substance?\" \"Yes.\" \"And a living being; then, although you are\na substance you are not a stone, because you are a living being.\"\n\nLucian's crusade against vice is of so general a kind as to remind us\nmore of some of the old philosophers than of the Roman satirists. At the\nsame time he says he has only spoken against impostors, and is only the\nenemy of false pretence, quackery, lies, and puffing. But we may suppose\nthat he would not be sparing of his lash in any direction, for in the\n\"Resuscitated Philosophers,\" he observes, \"Philosophy says that\nridicule can never make anything worse than it is in itself, and\nwhatever is beautiful and good comes out with more lustre from it, and,\nlike gold, is rendered splendid by the strokes of the hammer.\"\n\nFollowing this view, he makes pretty sport of the parasites, whom he\nrepresents as forming a large and educated class. Patroclus he counts as\nAchilles' parasite, and includes several philosophers, who, he says,\nsponged upon Dionysius of Syracuse, \"but Plato failed in the art.\" He\ncommends them in merry irony, and describes the parasite as stout and\nrobust--bold, with an eye full of fire and spirit. Who could venture a\nbet against a parasite, whether in jesting or feasting? Who could\ncontribute more to the diversion of the company? A parasite is obliged\nto be strict in his conduct. He has an annual salary, but is always\nbeaten down in it. He does not receive the same food as the chief\npeople, and in travelling he is put with the servants. Jokes are made at\nhis expense by the company, and when he receives a present of his\npatron's old clothes, he has to fee the servants for them. Of\nphilosophers, some are poisoned, some are burned alive. None ever tell\nof a parasite who came to such an end--he dies gently and sweetly,\namidst loaded dishes and flowing bowls, and should one of them come to\na violent death, it is merely from indigestion. The parasite does honour\nto the rich man--not the rich man to the parasite.\n\nLucian's \"True History\" deserves especial notice as having been the\nfirst extravagant story written under the form of a circumstantial\nnarration of travels. It was the precursor of \"The Voyage to the Moon,\"\nBaron Muenchausen, and various Utopias. We must therefore allow it the\nmerit of originality, and it evinces talent, for mere exaggeration would\nnot be entertaining. The intention was to ridicule the marvellous\ntravellers' stories then current. Much of this history is merely florid,\nand we may compare it to a waving line, in which the fable is constantly\nundulating between humour and poetry.\n\nLucian says he is going to write about what never can be. He sets sail\non a voyage of discovery for the Western Ocean, and reaches a beautiful\nisland. There they find a river of wine, navigable in many places. He\ncould not trace the source of it, but near the place where it seemed to\nrise, were several vines full of grapes, and at the root of every one\nwine flowed out. They found fish in the stream, and after eating some,\nfelt intoxicated; when they cut them up, they found grape-stones in\nthem. Passing the river, they found a most wonderful species of vine;\nthe lower parts, which touched the ground, were green and thick, the\nupper formed the most beautiful women, from the top of whose fingers\nbranches sprang forth full of grapes; and on their heads, instead of\nhair, they had leaves and tendrils. Two of his companions, going up to\nembrace them, became so entangled that they could not again disengage\nthemselves. After this, they left the island, and were caught in such a\nviolent storm that the vessel was lifted out of the water, so high that\nit could not come down again. Then they came to another island, round\nand shining. Here they found Hippogypi, men riding upon vultures--birds\nso large that each of their feathers was like the mast of a ship. The\nvoyagers join the Hippogypi in a battle against the inhabitants of the\nsun, and have various allies--some mounted on fleas about the size of\ntwelve elephants, and spiders, each as big as one of the Cyclades\nislands. The travellers were taken prisoners, and conveyed to the Sun,\nbut he returned to the Moon, of which he gives a description. The\ninhabitants there make use of their stomachs--which are empty and lined\nwith hair--as bags or pockets to put away things. They take their eyes\nin and out, and borrow them. \"Whoever does not believe me, had better\ngo and see.\" Returning from the air to the earth and sea, they saw\nseveral enormous whales, one of whom swam up to them with its mouth wide\nopen. Coming near he swallowed them up--ship and all. It was dark\ninside, until he opened his mouth again. There was a large extent of\nland inside, and hills and woods, in which birds were building nests.\n\nFrom this last fancy, we might conclude that Lucian had read the Book of\nJonah, and a description he afterwards gives of the Isles of the\nBlessed, seems to be written in imitation of the Revelation.\n\nThe age in which Lucian lived was marked by theological contests between\nPagans, Jews, and Christians, and such times have generally caused an\nincrease of scepticism and profanity. Lucian was a follower of\nDemocritus, and his Confabulations consist of a succession of squibs and\nsatires on the mythological legends of the gods and goddesses. He laughs\nat curing diseases by charms and incantations. People pretended to fly,\nwalk on water and through fire--they are called Babylonians and\nHyperboreans. A Syrian from Palestine professes to drive devils out of\npeople (perhaps alluding to the exorcists of the early church.) He makes\nEucrates speak of one Pancrates, who would take a broom or the pestle of\na wooden mortar, and upon saying a couple of magical words, it appeared\nto become a man, drew water, and ordered food. When Pancrates had no\nfurther need of him, he spoke a couple of words, and the man was a\npestle again. Eucrates tried this himself, but having made the pestle a\nman, and told him to bring water, he forgot how to change him back\nagain. So he kept on bringing water. Eucrates then split the pestle in\ntwo, and both halves still continued to bring water.\n\nDemonax, the friend of Lucian, was as remarkable for his wit and\nrepartee as for his kindly nature. A man who over-rated his austerity,\nexpressed one day his surprise at seeing him eat sweet-cakes. \"Do you\nthink,\" he replied, \"that the bees make their honey only for fools?\" He\nseems to have had as little respect as Lucian for the idolatry of his\nday, for on one of his companions saying to him \"Let us go to the Temple\nof AEsculapius to pray for my son,\" he answered, \"Is the god then so deaf\nthat he cannot hear us where we are?\"\n\nHe lived and died a bachelor, and we are told that on being blamed by\nEpictetus, with whom he studied, for not marrying and having a family as\na philosopher should, he replied \"Very well, give me one of your\ndaughters.\" Epictetus was an old bachelor.\n\nHe counselled a bad orator to practise and exercise himself in the art\nof speaking, and on his replying, \"I am always doing so--to myself,\" he\nadded, \"It is therefore not surprising you speak as you do--having a\nfool for your audience.\"\n\nWhen the sophist Sidonius, delivering a long panegyric on himself, said\nthat he was acquainted with all the tenets of the philosophers: \"If\nAristotle calls me to the Lyceum, I obey; if Plato to the Academy, I\ncome; Zeno to the Stoa, I take up my abode there; if Pythagoras calls, I\nam silent:\" Demonax jumped up in the middle of the Assembly and cried\nout, \"Pythagoras calls you.\"\n\nHis humour was purely genial and jocose, as when, on the point of\nsetting sail in winter, he replied to a friend who asked him whether he\nwas not afraid he should be ship-wrecked and go to feed the fishes,\n\"Should I not be ungrateful were I unwilling to be devoured by fishes,\nwhen I have feasted on so many myself?\"\n\nBut there is one speech of his which must ever make his memory dear to\nall good men. When the Athenians wished to emulate the Corinthians by\nexhibiting a gladiatorial combat, he said, \"Do not vote this, Athenians,\nbefore ye have taken down the Altar of Mercy.\"\n\nDemonax lived to a ripe old age, and we are told that he was so much\nbeloved in Athens that, as he passed the bread-shops, the bakers would\nrun out to beg his acceptance of a loaf, and thought it a good omen if\nhe complied; and that the little children called him father, and would\nbring him presents of fruit.\n\nApuleius wrote in Latin in the second century. He was a native of\nCarthage--not the celebrated Carthage of Terence, but that of Cyprian--a\nnew city. He travelled like many of the learned men of his time to\nAthens and Alexandria, and thus, most probably, became acquainted with\nhis contemporary Lucian. At any rate, his \"Golden Ass\" seems taken from\nthe work by that author. Bishop Warburton has seen in his production a\nsubtle attack upon Christianity, but we may take it as intended to\nridicule magical arts, and those who believed in them. He was likely to\nfeel keenly on this subject, for having married a rich widow,\nPudentilla, her relatives accused him of having obtained her by\nwitchcraft, and even dragged him into a court of justice.\n\nLucian ridiculed the religion of his day, Apuleius its superstitions.\nApuleius speaks of his \"book of jests,\" but it is lost--the few lines he\ngives out of it are a somewhat matter-of-fact recommendation of\ntooth-powder. His enemies thought that tooth-powder was something\nmagical and unholy--at any rate, they made his mention of it a charge\nagainst him. In reply, he says that perhaps a man who only opens his\nmouth to revile ought not to have tooth-powder.\n\nIn the \"Golden Ass,\" Apuleius gravely supposes that transformations take\nplace between men and the lower animals. He makes Aristomenes tell a\nstory in which a witch appears, \"able to drag down the firmament, to\nsupport the world on her shoulders, crumble mountains, raise the dead,\ndethrone gods, extinguish the stars, and illuminate hell.\" She changed\none of her lovers, of whom she was jealous, into a beaver, and\npersecuted him with hunters. She punished the wife of another of them,\nwho was about to increase her family, by condemning her to remain in\nthat condition. \"It is now eight years since she has been growing larger\nand larger, and seems as though about to produce an elephant.\"\n\nLucius goes to Thessaly, celebrated for its witches, and a good story is\ntold how returning late from supper he finds three men battering against\nhis door. Taking them for robbers he draws his dagger, and stabs them,\nand the ground is covered with blood. Next day he is tried for murder,\nand about to be crucified, when the corpses are brought into court, and\nare found to be three wine-skins. He is told that this was a trick\nplayed on him upon the day when they usually celebrated the festival of\nthe god of laughter, but it seems to have been really owing to an\nincantation. He sees Pamphile, his hostess, change herself into an owl,\nthinks he also will transform himself into a bird, and anoints himself\nwith some of the witch's preparations. By mistake, taking the wrong\nointment, he transforms himself into a donkey. He then goes to look for\nhis horse, who, thinking he is coming to eat his food, kicks him out,\nand soon afterwards he is well thrashed by his servant boy. He is told\nthat eating fresh roses will restore him to his former self, but for\nvarious reasons he cannot get any. Being hungry he goes into a kitchen\ngarden, and makes a good meal of the vegetables, for which transgression\nhe is nearly killed by the gardener. To prevent this he kicks the man\nover, whereupon a general outcry was raised, and great dogs rush upon\nhim. After this persecution he is in danger of dying of\nstarvation--\"spiders began to spin their webs on his lips,\" but becoming\ninstrumental in saving a young girl, he receives better treatment. He is\nthen bought by vagrants, who go about playing cymbals, and carrying an\nimage of the Syrian goddess. He is accompanied by a troop of fanatical\npriests, who dance and scourge themselves. While the priests are being\nroyally entertained by one of their votaries, a dog runs off with a\nhaunch of venison, and the cook, not knowing what to do, conceives the\nproject of killing the ass, and dressing one of his haunches instead. To\navoid this the donkey breaks loose, and gallops into the supper room.\nAfter the band of priests is dispersed, owing to their thieving\npropensities, the donkey is sold to a baker, and by him to a gardener,\nand nearly dies of cold and exposure. Then he becomes the property of\nthe servants of a very rich man, and is found eating up the remains of\ntheir supper. This greatly amuses them all, and their lord orders him to\nbe brought to his table. A buffoon, or parasite, who sat among the\nguests, exclaims \"Give him a cup of wine,\" and he was taught various\ntricks. His fame increases so that his master only admits people to see\nhim on payment. Finally being taken to the circus, and afraid that some\nof the wild beasts might eat him by mistake, he slips away and gallops\nto Cenchroea, where he prays to the goddess Iris, and is by her\nrestored to his human form. The descriptions in this work are often very\nbeautiful, and the humour in describing the misfortunes of the ass is\nexcellent.\n\nIn contrast to the humour of Lucian and Apuleius, we may place that of\nthe Emperor Julian, an ascetic and devotee, who was nephew of\nConstantine the Great, and brought up a Christian. Julian's early life\nwas spent in terror, for Constantius, Constantine's son, imprisoned him\nat Milan, after having put his elder brother to death. Perhaps this\ntreatment at the hands of a Christian may have prejudiced him against\nthe new religion, or his mild disposition may have been scandalized at\nthe fierceness of theological controversies, or at the lives of many of\nthe converts. His early education and experiences of life were more\ninclined to imbue him with principles of toleration than to make him a\nzealous Christian, and, finally, when he arrived at the age of twenty,\nhe determined to return back into Paganism. This retrograde movement,\nnot altogether out of keeping with his quaint character and love of\nantiquity, has stamped him with the opprobrious title of the \"Apostate,\"\nbut in moral excellence he was superior to the age in which he lived.\nMany of his writings show a sense of humour, such as that he wrote in\nLutetia (Paris) on \"Barley wine\" the drink of the Gauls.\n\n  \"Who and whence art thou, Dionyse? for, by true Bacchus\n   I know thee not, but Jove's great son alone,\n   He smells of nectar, thou of goats, truly the Celts\n   For want of grapes made thee of ears of corn;\n   Wherefore thou shouldst be Cereal called, not Bacchus,\n   Pyrogenes and Bromos, not Bromion.\"[27]\n\nJulian's principal work is on the Caesars. He commences it by saying that\nhe is not addicted to jesting, but he will relate a sort of fable in\nwhich all the gods and Caesars are called to a great banquet.\nAccordingly, he introduces various characters. Julius Caesar seems in his\npride to wish to dispute the throne even with Jupiter. Augustus he\ncompares to a chameleon, sometimes one colour, sometimes another; one\nmoment a visage full of sorrow, another smiling.\n\nTiberius has a fierce countenance, and shows the marks of intemperance\nand debauchery. \"Take care he does not pull your ear,\" says Bacchus,\n\"for thus he treated a grammarian.\" \"He had better,\" returned Silenus,\n\"bemoan himself in his solitary island, and tear the face of some\nmiserable fisherman.\"[28]\n\nConstantine, not finding among the gods any type of his character,\nbetook himself to the goddess of pleasure. She, receiving him softly and\nembracing him, trimmed him up and adorned him, dressed him in a shining\nand many-coloured woman's gown, and led him away to demoralization.\nWith her he found one of his sons, who loudly proclaimed to all,\n\"Whosoever is a seducer, a murderer, or shameless, let him advance\nboldly, for by washing him with water I will immediately make him pure;\nand if he should be again guilty of such things, I will grant him to be\npure on striking his breast, or beating his head.\"[29] At the end of\nthis \"fable,\" the Emperors are called upon to speak in their defence.\nConstantine being asked what object he had in view, replied \"to amass\ngreat riches and spend them on myself and friends.\" Silenus burst into a\nfit of laughter, and retorted \"You now wish to pass for a banker, but\nhow can you forget your living like a cook, or a hair-dresser?\" alluding\nto his luxurious feastings, and his wearing gold-flowered stuffs, and a\ndiadem of jewels.\n\nGibbon calls this work on the Caesars one of the most agreeable and\ninstructive productions of ancient wit.\n\nJulian prided himself on his primitive and severe life, and made himself\nridiculous by wearing a long unfashionable beard--either in imitation of\nthe Gauls, or of the ancient philosophers. It is probable that he\npersisted in this habit to discountenance the effeminacy of the times.\nHe says that soon after he entered Constantinople, he had occasion to\nsend for a barber. An officer, magnificently dressed, presented himself.\n\"It is a barber,\" said the prince, \"that I want, and not a minister of\nfinance.\" He questioned the man about his profits, and was informed that\nbesides a large salary and some valuable perquisites, he enjoyed a daily\nallowance of twenty servants and as many horses! Not only was Julian\nstrongly opposed to luxury, but he was, as far as his light went, a\nreligious man, and was strict in observing the feasts and festivals of\nthe heathen deities. All his antiquated peculiarities are brought\nstrongly before us on the occasion of his visit to Antioch. Strabo tells\nus that this was one of the largest cities in the world--little inferior\nin extent to Alexandria and Seleucia. It was noted for its gaieties, and\nseems now to have been the centre of fashion. The new religion had been,\nat least nominally, adopted, and also the new costumes, as well as every\nkind of luxury and dissipation. Chrysostom bears witness to the same\neffect. The town was full of dancers, pipers, and players, camels\n\"adorned like brides\" stalked through the porticos, and fish and poultry\nhad come to be considered as necessaries of life. There were here many\npeople of leisure and cultivation, fond of light and fanciful pursuits,\nand among others of forming verbal conceits. Hence, we find that the\ndisciples were first called _Christians_ at Antioch, no doubt,\nderisively,[30] and in Julian's time they had a cant saying that they\nhad suffered nothing from the X or the K (Christ or Constantius). A\ncelebrated school of rhetoric was established here, and no doubt some of\nthe effusions penned at this time, abounded with rich and epigrammatic\nhumour.\n\nIt must have been a rare sight for these polished and satirical\nChristians of Antioch to behold Julian celebrating the festivals of the\npagan gods. To view the procession of Venus--a long line of all the\ndissolute women in the town, singing loose songs--followed by the lean,\nuncouth Roman Emperor, with his shaggy beard, and terminated by a\nmilitary train. No wonder they hooted him, and wrote lampoons upon him.\nBut Julian thought he was performing a solemn duty; he by no means\nintended to countenance immorality. \"Far from us,\" he says, \"be all\nlicentious jests and scurrilous discourse--let no priest read\nArchilochus or Hipponax.\" He gives an amusing account of his reception\nat the celebrated grove of Daphnae, near Antioch, which he visited at\nthe time of the annual festival. He expected to see a profusion of\nwealth and splendour. He pictured to himself the solemn pomp, the\nvictims, the libations, the dancers, the incense, the children in white\nrobes. When he entered the temple, full of such elevated thoughts, he\nfound there neither incense, cake, nor victims. Much surprised, he could\nonly suppose that the people were waiting at the gate, by way of\nrespect, for a signal from the sovereign Pontiff. He therefore asked the\npriest what offering the city was about to make on this great\nanniversary; to which he replied, \"The city has furnished nothing, but I\nhave brought the god a goose from my own house.\"\n\nJulian says the people of Antioch had transfixed him with sarcasms, as\nwith arrows. In accordance, however, with his peaceful disposition, he\nonly retaliated by writing the Misopogon or \"Beard-hater.\" \"No law,\" he\nsays, \"forbids me to satirise myself.\" He begins with his face and says,\n\n\"Although naturally good-looking, moroseness and bad manners have led me\nto wear a long beard for no apparent reason but that nature has not made\nit handsome. Therefore, I allow lice to run about in it like wild beasts\nin a wood, nor have I the power of eating or drinking much, for I must\nbe cautious, lest I eat hairs along with bread. About being kissed, or\nkissing, I do not much care; still a beard has this inconvenience among\nothers, that it does not allow us to join pure lips to those that are\npure, and, therefore, the sweeter. You say that ropes should be twisted\nout of it, and I would willingly grant this, if only you were able to\ndraw out the bristles, so that your soft and delicate hands should not\nsuffer from their roughness.\"\n\nHe says that he never goes to the theatre, and hates horse-races. As to\ndomestic matters, \"I pass sleepless nights upon a bed of straw, and\ninsufficient food makes my manners severe and offensive to a luxurious\ncity. Do not think that I do this on your account--a great and senseless\nmistake has led me from my childhood to wage war with my stomach.\" He is\nnot at all surprised that they should follow the dissolute habits of the\nfounder of their city, Antiochus, and that they think of nothing but\ndressing, bathing, and love-making--charges which could not be brought\nagainst himself. He esteems dancers and players \"no more than the frogs\nof the lakes,\" and tells a story, that when Cato came into the city of\nAntioch, seeing all the young men under arms, and the magistrates in\ntheir robes, he thought the parade was in his honour. He blamed his\nfriends for having told them he was coming, and advanced with some\nhesitation, when the master of the ceremonies came up and asked,\n\"Stranger, how far off is Demetrius?\" a man who had been a slave of\nPompey, but had become immensely rich. Cato made no reply, but\nexclaimed, \"O, miserable city!\" and departed.\n\nThe Misopogon is unique as a mock disparagement of self. Although\nwritten in condemnation of the Antiochians, a vein of pleasantry runs\nthrough it, which shows that Julian was not vindictive, and had a\nconsiderable gift of humour. Had he lived to mature age, he would\nprobably have left some brilliant literary work. But shortly after his\nvisit to Antioch, he led an expedition into Persia, and with his usual\ndisregard of danger, entered the battle without his armour, and was\nmortally wounded.\n\nWe read that the Roman girls were very fond of amusing themselves in\ntheir leisure hours by making \"scirpi\" or riddles. They do not seem to\nhave indulged much in puns, or to have attempted anything very\nintricate, but rather to have aimed at testing knowledge and memory. We\nhave few specimens remaining of their art, but such as we have are of\nthat early kind, which demand some special information for their\nsolutions. Aulus Gellius has preserved one \"old by Hercules,\" which\nturns on the legend that when Tarquinius Superbus was installing Jupiter\nat the Capitol, all the other gods were ready to leave except Terminus,\nwho being by his character immovable, and having no legs, refused to\ndepart.[31] Two other specimens are found in Virgil's bucolics:--\n\n  \"Say in what lands grow flowers inscribed with names\n   Of kings--and Phyllis shall be yours alone,\"\n\nreferring to the hyacinth, on whose petals the word Ajax was supposed to\nbe found. The responding couplet runs:--\n\n  \"Say, and my great Apollo thou shalt be,\n   Where heaven's span extends but three ells wide;\"\n\nthe answer to which is not known.\n\nProbably some riddles of an earlier date may be incorporated in the book\nof Symposius. Nothing is known of the life of this author, and it has\nbeen suggested that the word should be Symposium or the \"Banquet\"--these\nenigmas being supposed to be delivered after dinner. But most\nauthorities consider Symposius to have lived in the fourth century,\nalthough an examination of his prosody might lead us to place him not\nearlier than the fifth. Very few of the riddles are really ingenious;\namong the best we may reckon:--\n\n  \"Letters sustain me--yet I know them not,\n   I live on books, and yet I never read,\n   The Muses I've devoured and gained no knowledge.\"\n\nThis is tolerably self-evident, but some require special information\nas:--\n\n  \"You can behold what you can scarce believe\n   There is but one eye, yet a thousand heads,\n   Who sells what he has, whence shall he get what he has not?\"\n\nFew would ever guess that this referred to a one-eyed man selling\ngarlic. But the greater number of these conceits are merely emblematic\ndescriptions of well-known things, and are more vague than epigrammatic,\nas,\n\n  \"I am the purple of the earth suffused with lovely tints and girt,\n  lest I be wronged with pointed spears. Happy indeed! had I but\n  length of life.\"\n\n  \"There's a new capture of some well-known game, that what you catch\n  not, you bear off with you.\"\n\n  \"Hoarsely amidst the waves I raise my voice\n   It sounds with praise with which it lauds itself,\n   And though I ever sing, no one applauds.\"\n\n  \"Spontaneous coming, I show various forms,\n   I feign vain fears, when there is no true conflict,\n   But no one can see me till he shuts his eyes.\"\n\n  \"By art four equal sisters run\n   As if in contest, though the labour's one,\n   And both are near, nor can each other touch.\"[32]\n\nWe know little of Macrobius except that he was a Greek, and lived in the\nfifth century. His principal work was his \"Saturnalia,\" and he selected\nfor it this title and plan, because, as he tells us, men were in his day\nso much occupied with business, that it was only in the annual festival\nof misrule that they had any time for reflection or social intercourse.\nThe \"Saturnalia,\" occupied the greater part of December, and Macrobius\nrepresents a company of magnates and wits agreeing to meet daily to\ndiscuss in the morning topics of importance, and to spend the evening in\nlight and jocund conversation. His work treats of astronomy, mythology,\npoetry and rhetoric, but it is most interesting with regard to our\npresent subject, where he brings before us one of those scenes of\nconvivial merriment of which we have often heard. The party are to\nrelate humorous anecdotes in turn. Avienus says that they should be\nintellectual not voluptuous, to which the president, Praetextatus,\nreplies, that they will not banish pleasure as an enemy, nor consider it\nto be the greatest good. After these suggestions they commence:--\n\nPraetextatus records a saying of Hannibal. Antiochus, to whom he had\nfled, showed him in a plain a vast army he had collected to make war\nwith the Romans; the men were adorned with gold and silver, there were\nchariots with scythes, elephants with towers, cavalry shining with\nornamental bits and housings. Then turning to Hannibal, he asked him if\nhe thought they would be enough for the Romans. The Carthaginian,\nsmiling at the weakness and cowardice of the gaudily accoutred host,\nreplied, \"Certainly, I think they will be enough for them, however\ngreedy they may be.\"\n\nFurius Albinus says that after the flight at Mutina, on some lady asking\nwhat Antony was doing, one of his friends replied, \"What the dogs do in\nEgypt--drink and run!\" \"It is well known,\" he adds, \"that there the dogs\nrun while they drink, for fear of the crocodiles.\"\n\nAvenienus says that the sister of Faustus, the son of Sylla, had two\nlovers--one of them, Fulvius, the son of a fuller; the other Pomponius,\nnick-named Spot. \"I wonder,\" he said, \"that my sister should have a\nspot, when she has a fuller.\"\n\nThe remaining guests speak more at length, and their discourses occupy a\nconsiderable portion of the book.\n\nThe example set by Martial gradually led to a considerable development\nof epigrammatic literature. A humorous epigram survives, written by\nTrajan on a man with a large nose:\n\n  \"By placing your nose and gaping mouth opposite the sun\n   You will tell wayfarers the hour.\"\n\nJustinian in the sixth century is supposed to have assisted Paul the\nSilentiary--a sort of master of the ceremonies--in his compositions; but\nit may be hoped that the Emperor was not an accomplice in producing the\nimpurities with which they are disfigured. Here and there, however, a\nfew sweet flowers are found in his poisonous garland. We may hope that\nhe often received such a cool welcome as that he commemorates in his\n\"Drenched Lover.\"\n\nHierocles and Philagrius are supposed to have lived in the fifth\ncentury, but the jests and stories which bear their names seem to be\nmuch later. They are based upon violations of the primary laws of nature\nand mind, but have not the subtlety of the syllogistic quibbles, which\nwere the work of learned grammarians or the logicians of a better\nperiod. Being little more than Bulls, they excite scarcely any emotion\nand no laughter, although evincing a certain cleverness. The hero is\ngenerally a \"Scholastic,\" who is represented as a sort of fool. A friend\nof Scholasticus going abroad asks him to buy him some books.\nScholasticus forgets all about it, and when he meets his friend on his\nreturn, says, \"By the way, I never received that letter you wrote about\nthe books.\" A man meeting Scholasticus says, \"The slave you sold me\ndied.\" \"Did he? By the gods,\" replied the other, \"he never played me\nthat trick.\" Scholasticus meeting a friend exclaims, \"Why, I heard you\nwere dead!\" The other replies, \"Well, I tell you that I'm alive.\" \"Yes,\"\npersists Scholasticus, \"but the man who told me so was more veracious\nthan you!\" A promising son apostrophizes his father, \"Base varlet! don't\nyou see how you have wronged me? If you had never been born and stood in\nthe way I should have come into all my grandfather's money.\"\n\nThe humour which has come to us from classic times, brings the life of\nancient Greece and Rome near to our own firesides. It is not that of a\nprimitive or decaying civilization, but of one advanced and matured,\nresembling our own, in which density of population has brought a\nclashing of interests, and enlarged knowledge has produced a variety of\nthought upon a great multiplicity of home and foreign subjects. We can\nthus bridge over two thousand years, and obtain, as it were, a grasp of\nthe Past, in which we find men so very like ourselves, not only in their\nstrong emotions, but in their little conceits and vanities, and their\nopinions of each other.\n\n\n\n\nENGLISH HUMOUR.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER I.\n\nMIDDLE AGES.\n\nRelapse of Civilization in the Middle Ages--Stagnation of Mind--Scarcity\n  of Books--Character of reviving Literature--Religious\n  Writings--Fantastic Legends--Influence of the Crusades--Romances--Sir\n  Bevis of Hamptoun--Prominence of the Lower Animals--Allegories.\n\n\nThose ancient philosophers who believed in a mundane year and a\nperiodical repetition of the world's history, would have found a\nremarkable corroboration of their theory in the retrogression of\nlearning during the middle ages, and its subsequent gradual revival.\nThis re-birth contained all the leading characteristics of the original\ndevelopment of thought, although, amid the darkness, the torch handed\ndown from the past afforded occasionally some flickering light. The\ngreat cause of the disappearance of literature and civilization was, of\ncourse, the sword of the Goths, which made the rich countries of\nSouthern Europe, a wilderness and desolation. A lesser cause was the\nintolerance of the ecclesiastics, who, in their detestation of Pagan\nsuperstition and immorality endeavoured to destroy all classical\nwritings which touched upon mythological subjects, or contained unseemly\nallusions. But, although we regret its action in this respect, and the\nintellectual stagnation thus generally produced, we must admit that we\nare indebted to the Church for the preservation of many valuable works.\nThere were many men of learning in the monasteries, and some of\nsufficient enlightenment to be able to venerate the relics of Greek and\nLatin literature. We find that in the East the works of Aristophanes\nwere so much admired by St. Chrysostom that he slept with them under his\npillow. Perhaps the Saint enjoyed the reflections of the comedian upon\nthe superstitions of his day, or he may have had a secret liking for the\ndrama, and in one place he observes how much the world resembles a\nstage. There seems to have been a conflict in his breast, as no doubt\nthere was in many at the time, between love of the classics and\nreligious scruples; he tells us that he dreamed one night that he was\nbeing whipped by the devil for reading Cicero.\n\nWe may observe that the Eastern world was not at this time in such a\nbenighted state. Theodosius the younger founded in A.D. 425,\nan academy and library at Constantinople, which, when it was destroyed\nby the Turks contained 120,000 volumes. Nothing brings before us more\nforcibly the state of ignorance in which the Western world was now sunk\nthan the scarcity of books. The price of them in the middle ages was so\ngreat that a man who presented one to a monastery, thought he merited\neternal salvation. Documents were drawn up and duly signed when a book\npassed from one person to another--and in the eighth century a library\nof 150 volumes was regarded as something magnificent.[33]\n\nThe state of ignorance among the Saxons may be imagined from the fact\nthat Alfred was twelve years old before he could get a master capable of\nteaching him the alphabet, and even after the invention of paper in the\neleventh century books were very scarce. The cause of the scanty supply\nof literature was not only the general destruction which had taken\nplace, but also that there was no demand for it. Archbishop Lanfranc,\nwith a view to improve education in England, directed in 1072 that a\nbook should be given to each of the monks, who were to be allowed a year\nto read it, and what follows gives us some idea of the indolence of\nthese representatives of learning, for it was ordered that if the monk\nhas not then read it he is to prostrate himself, and ask pardon of the\nabbot. The monks of Winchester were probably not much troubled in this\nway, for some time afterwards the library of the bishop of that diocese\nonly consisted of seven books. What must then have been the ignorance of\nthe masses of the population! We should scarcely believe that such a\nrelapse could have taken place had we not seen the centres of\ncivilization in the world successively succumbing, and the greatest\ncities becoming desolate, and did we not reflect that, but for such\nvicissitudes, mankind must have attained a far greater degree of\nexcellence than has been reached at the present day.\n\nThe first kind of composition attempted by the mind of man is that which\nexpresses religious feelings, and the idea that there exists a being\ngreater than himself. That dim searching after something beyond\nexperience could seldom confine itself to its legitimate direction, but\nby dreams and hopes, and by the love of the marvellous--that early\nsource of idealism--strayed into a variety of fabulous and legendary\nmazes. Hence arose all the strange and grotesque myths about heathen\ngods and Christian saints which occupy the shadowy borders between\nchaos and history. The stories which were current in this country in\nearly times spoke of miracles worked by the Virgin, represented St.\nChristopher as a giant twenty-four feet high, and related how \"Seynt\nPateryk\" banished the \"wormes\" from Ireland; or sometimes would draw\nfrom the rich mine of Rabbinical tradition such allegorical fictions as\nthat, when Noah planted the vine, Satan was present and sacrificed a\nsheep, a lion, an ape, and a sow, representing the different stages of\ninebriety.[34]\n\nBut man's awakening thoughts turn not only to his Protector above, but\nalso to his enemies below, and thus the exploits of warlike heroes, who\ngenerally combine the religious with the military character, easily\nbecame tempting themes for the exercise of fancy.\n\nThere is reason to believe that the earliest British legends recorded\nthe glories of King Arthur--the defender of Christianity against the\nworshippers of Odin. The origin of these accounts have been traced by\nsome to Scandinavian, by some to Arabian sources, but we may suppose\nthem to have arisen among those ancient British people who inhabited\nWales and Cornwall,[35] and passed over in the fifth and sixth centuries\nto Brittany (Armorica). It matters little for our present purpose whence\nthey came, they were full of extravagant and supernatural occurrences.\nThe names of two shadowy warriors, Sir Bevis and Sir Guy, seem to have\nbeen handed down from Saxon times, probably by oral tradition; the\nformer is said to have performed prodigies of valour in the South, and\nthe latter in the North of England. The literature which has come down\nto us from this date (with the exception of an ode of triumph) is purely\nof a religious character, and adorned with a variety of miraculous\ncircumstances--a considerable part of it consists of the hymns of\nCaedmon, an ignorant cowherd, who was inspired to sing by an angel\nappearing to him in a vision.\n\nBede's Ecclesiastical History is full of strange stories, and although\nAcca, his contemporary, adorned his cathedral of Hexham in\nNorthumberland with what was then considered to be a magnificent\nlibrary, it was entirely composed of histories of the Apostles and\nmartyrs to whose relics he had dedicated the altars of his church.[36]\nMeanwhile, the glorification of Charlemagne and his paladins, the great\nchampions of Christendom, exercised the invention of the minstrels of\nFrance. But activity of mind increasing, additional subjects for\nentertainment were demanded, and the old pagan kings and heroes appeared\nin entirely new characters. The marvellous and magnificent career of\nAlexander the Great seemed to invite a little additional ornamentation,\nand the Roman Emperors were introduced in very fantastic habiliments.\n\nIt would seem that traditional accounts of Roman times had been\npreserved in some of the Western monasteries, as well as portions of the\nold Homeric and mythological history in Latin translations[37]--Greek\nhad been fading out of Europe since the time of Theodosius. No doubt\nthere were still here and there a few genuine classical books, and we\nhear of Aristotle being prized--the obscurity and subtlety of his works\nhaving led to his being now regarded as a magician.\n\nThe following will give some idea of the kind of stories then\nappreciated. A beautiful princess, nourished with poison, was sent as a\npresent to Alexander. Aristotle discovered the danger, and a slave was\nordered to kiss her, who immediately fell down dead.\n\nThe gigantic body of Pallas, the son of Evander, was found at Rome. It\nexceeded in height the walls of the city, and had remained uncorrupted,\nand accompanied with a burning lamp for two hundred and forty years. His\nwound was fresh, and we may suppose caused instant death, for it was\nfour feet and a half long.\n\nMagical rings are often mentioned. There is some pretty sentiment in the\nstory of Vespasian and a wife whom he had married in a distant country.\nShe refuses to return home with him, and yet declares that she will kill\nherself if he leaves her. The Emperor orders two rings to be made, one\nbearing the image of Oblivion, the other that of Memory. The former he\ngives to the Empress, the latter he wears himself.\n\nVirgil, who is represented as an enchanter, places a magical image in\nthe centre of Rome, which every day communicates to the Emperor Titus\nall the secret offences committed in the city.\n\nFrom such fanciful sources, and with a discrimination such as they\ndisplay, Geoffrey of Monmouth drew up in the eleventh century a fabulous\nhistory of England. His story of Gogmagog, the British giant, supposed\nto have been destroyed by Brutus, the great grandson of AEneas, on his\nlanding in this country, is said to have been derived from that of two\nArabian giants Gog and Magog. The stones which compose Stonehenge, each\ncontaining some medicinal virtue, are fabled to have been transported by\ngiants from the deserts of Africa to Ireland, and to have been carried\nthence by Merlin's enchantment to form a monument over the British slain\nby Hengist. The state of criticism existing at this time may be imagined\nfrom the fact that even afterwards, in the reign of Edward I., the\ndescent of the Britons from the Trojans through Brutus was solemnly\nalleged in a controversy of great importance concerning the subjection\nof the crown of England to that of Scotland, showing an amount of\ncredulity which might almost have credited the legend that St. James,\nmounted on horseback, led the Christian armies in Spain in their battles\nagainst the Moors, or that there was in that country a golden image of\nMahomet as high as a bird could fly, in which the false prophet had\nsealed up a legion of devils.\n\nBut the imaginative powers were soon to be developed upon more\nattractive themes. War and Religion were about to be blended in the\ngrand drama of the Crusades, prompted alike by zeal for the faith, by\nhatred of the Moslem, and by thirst for military glory. The first nobles\nof the West arrayed themselves in their armour, collected their\nretainers, and set out for the lands of the rising sun. Here they came\ninto contact with an Eastern civilization, ornate and dazzling, superior\nto their own, but still in a state of childhood, and revelling in the\nfanciful creations which please the infantine mind.[38] Foremost among\nthe Christian knights went the Barons of Provence, accompanied by troops\nof minstrels--troubadours to sing their praises; and we might well\nsuppose that some of the wonders of the dreaming East would now find\ntheir way into Europe, interwoven with the doughty deeds of the\nChristian heroes. This view is corroborated by the fact that almost all\nour early romances recount some great exploits performed against the\nSaracens; but the marvels they relate, from whatever source they come,\nwere in accordance with the times in which they were written, for as\nalchemy preceded chemistry, so romance-writing was the commencement of\nliterature. Some of the Arabian stories had considerable grace and\nbeauty, and are even now attractive to the young. But whether our poets\nborrowed from this prolific source or not, it is certain that about this\ntime they became more ambitious, and produced regular tales of\nconsiderable length, in which the northern gallantry towards the fair\nsex was combined with extravagances resembling those of Eastern\ninvention.\n\nNot until this time were the early heroic legends of this country\ndeveloped, and committed to writing, and as they appeared first in\nFrench, some writers--among whom is Ritson--have concluded that they\nwere merely the offspring of our neighbours' fertile imagination. But\nalthough the poets who recounted these stories wrote in French, they\nwere in attendance at the English Court, in which, even before the\nConquest, French was the language used, while Latin was that of the\nlearned, and Saxon that of the country-people. Henry the First, the\ngreat patron of letters, sometimes held his Court at Caen, so that the\nNorman poets who were competing for his favour, were doubtless familiar\nwith the legendary history of England. The first important works in the\nFrench language seem to have come from Normandy, and it is not\nimprobable that some of them were written in England. They were called\nromances, because they were composed in one of the languages of Southern\nEurope, containing a large element of the Roman, which we find was still\nused among the soldiery as late as the seventh century. It has been\nsupposed that all our early Anglo-Norman romances were translations from\nthe French, except the \"Squyr of Lowe Degre,\" and of some the originals\nare still extant.\n\nThese productions, from whatever source they came, were the kind of\nliterature most acceptable at the time. There seemed then nothing harsh\nor contemptibly puerile in stories we should now relegate to the\nnursery, and no doubt people derived an amusement from them, for which\nthat of humour was afterwards gradually substituted.\n\nExamples of such stories are found in that of Robert, King of Sicily,\nwho for his pride was changed, like Nebuchadnezzar, into one of the\nlower animals, and in that of Richard \"Coeur de Lion,\" who rode a\nhorse possessed by the devil, and whose wife flew away like a bird.\n\nIn the romance of Sir Bevis of Hamtoun, (Earl of Southampton,) he is\nrepresented as a kind of infant Hercules, who, when fifteen, killed\nsixty Saracen knights. He afterwards was imprisoned at Damascus in a den\nwith two dragons, but destroyed them. He was kept in a dungeon, however,\nand\n\n  \"Rats and mice, and such small deer,\n   Was his meat that seven year.\"\n\nDuring this time he was cheered by an angel visiting him. An adversary\nshortly appears in Ascapard:\n\n  \"This geaunt was mighty and strong,\n   And full thirty foot was long,\n   He was bristled like a sow;\n   A foot he had between each brow.\n   His lips were great, and hung aside,\n   His eyen were hollow, his mouth was wide,\n   Lothy he was to look on than,\n   And liker a devil than a man.\"\n\nHe was overcome, and became page to Sir Bevis. Ascapard is very useful,\nas he is able to take Bevis, Josyan, and even the horse Arundel under\nhis arm. An attempt at humour is introduced here, which is said to have\namused the people of Cologne. The bishop prepared to christen the giant,\n\n  \"For Ascapard was made a tun,\n   And when he should therein be done,\n   He lept out upon the brench (brink)\n   And said, 'Churl! wilt thou me drench?\n   The devil of hell mote fetche thee!\n   I am too much (big) christened to be!'\"\n\nWe will finish this sketch of the romancing tendencies of our early\nliterature by a description of a dragon from \"Sir Degore:\"\n\n  \"There was a dragon great and grymme,\n   Full of fyre, and also venymme,\n   Wyth a wyde throte, and tuskes grete,\n   Uppon that knygte fast gan he bete,\n   And as a lyon then was hys feete,\n   Hys tayle was long, and full unmeete;\n   Between hys head and hys tayle\n   Was xxii fote withouten fayle;\n   His body was lyke a wyne tonne,\n   He shone ful bryght agaynst the sunne;\n   Hys eyen were bryght as any glasse,\n   Hys scales were hard as any brasse:\n   And thereto he was necked lyke a horse,\n   He bore hys hed up wyth grete force;\n   The breth of hys mouth that did not blow\n   As yt had been a fyre on lowe.\n   He was to loke on, as I you telle\n   As yt had been a fiende of helle.\"\n\nThese romances were often called \"Gestes,\" from the great \"Gesta\" or\nexploits they recorded.\n\nThe author of \"Cursor Mundi,\" a book of religious legends, says,\n\n  \"Men lykyn jestis for to here\n   And romans rede in divers manere\n   Of Alexandre the conquerour,\n   Of Julius Caesar the Emperour, &c.\"\n\nIt may be doubted whether such tales as the above were ever regarded as\ntrue, but it was not until thought became more active that the falsity\nof them was fully appreciated, and \"jests\" gradually acquired their\npresent signification. The word romance has also come to be used not\nonly for a pleasant poetical narrative, but especially for something\nutterly devoid of truth. \"Story\" is used in the same sense, but not\n\"novel,\" for in our present works of fiction there is seldom so much\nimprobability as to be offensive in our day, though it may be so to our\nsuccessors.\n\nIn the above extracts it may have been observed that there is a\nprominence and importance given to the lower animals which we should not\nfind in writings of the present day. As civilization fell back into\nbarbarism, fables re-appeared, and some indifferent literature of this\nkind was produced in the fourth century by Aphthonius in Greek, and\nafterwards by Flavius Avianus in Latin. In the Saxon ode on the victory\nof Athelstan, a very particular account is given of the beasts of prey\npresent at the carnage.\n\nTheodosius, the blind Emperor, is said to have been restored to sight by\na serpent, whom he had benefited, coming in while he was asleep, and\nplacing a precious stone upon his eyes. In one of the early romances of\nMarie, a baron is transformed into a bisclaveret,[39] or wolf, for three\ndays every week, much to his wife's discomfort; in another a falcon\nchanges into a knight, who is finally caught in a bird-trap; in another\na lady falls into a trance, and is supposed to be dead, until her rival,\nseeing a weasel restore another one by placing a vermilion flower in its\nmouth, she places it in the lady's mouth and thus awakens her. The same\nelement is largely present in the other romances.\n\nAlexander Neckam, who lived in the latter part of the twelfth century,\nshows how fond our forefathers were of animals, and how they kept them\nin their houses. The castles were often full of them, some roving about,\nothers necessarily in confinement. Monkeys were in high favour. Some of\nthem were taught to fight as in a tournament, which we are told caused\ngreat laughter. In mediaeval times there was a love of all kinds of\nhybrid animals, and there was a certain amount of belief that all sorts\nof monsters came from the East or North. Giraldus Cambrensis tells us\nthat there were in Ireland such mixtures as half ox and half man, half\ndog and half monkey.\n\nAll these stories remind us of the fabular period in old Greek history,\nand bespeak a time, when both taste and knowledge were in their infancy;\nbut when, at the same time, the rays of the ideal were breaking upon the\nmind, and \"men appeared as trees walking.\"\n\nAllied to a love of fabling was that of allegory, which, as soon as\nliterary activity began to appear in the early church, produced an\nabundant harvest. This tendency exhibited itself in the first progress\nof thought in England. Philippe de Than, one of the most ancient\nAnglo-Norman poets, wrote a work describing the character of each bird\nand beast, upon which he grounded moral reflections. Robert Grosseteste,\nBishop of Lincoln, who died in 1253, was celebrated for a copious\ndissertation on mystical divinity, and a poem is extant ascribed to him,\ncalled the \"Castle of Love\" by Leland, in which the creation and\nredemption are represented as an allegory--our Lord being supposed to\nenter a magnificent castle, the body of the Virgin. The \"Gesta\nRomanorum\" strongly exhibits the want of discrimination at this time,\nfor although the dramatis personae are generally Roman Emperors, the\ndeepest Christian mysteries are supposed to be shadowed forth by their\nactions. Some of the stories are evidently invented to enforce religious\nteaching. We read of an angel accompanying a hermit on his wanderings,\nthe angel robs or murders all who receive him, but explains afterwards\nthat it is for their good. He gives a golden goblet to a rich man who\nrefuses to entertain them, to comfort him in this world, as he will go\nto hell in the next.\n\nVincent of Beauvais, a learned Dominican of France, who flourished in\nthe thirteenth century, observes that it was a practice of preachers to\nrouse their congregation by relating a fable of AEsop. In the British\nMuseum there is a collection of two hundred and fifteen stories,\nromantic, allegorical, and legendary, evidently compiled for the use of\nmonastic preachers. Mystic similitudes were at this time greatly\naffected in all branches of learning. In the \"Romaunt of the Rose,\" the\ndifficulties of a lover are represented under the form of a man seeking\na rose in an inaccessible garden. This flower, alchemists considered to\nbe emblematic of the Philosopher's Stone, while theologians referred it\nto the white rose of Jericho--a state of grace into which the wicked\ncould not enter.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER II.\n\nAnglo-Saxon Humour--Rhyme--Satires against the Church--The\n  Brunellus--Walter Mapes--Goliardi--Piers the Ploughman--Letters of\n  Obscure Men--Erasmus--The Praise of Folly--Skelton--The Ship of\n  Fools--Doctour Doubble Ale--The Sak full of Nuez--Church\n  Ornamentation--Representations of the Devil.\n\n\nThe rude character of the Anglo-Saxon humour may be gathered from our\nhaving derived from it the word _fun_. This term which we often apply to\nromping and boisterous games, refers principally to the sense of\nfeeling, and always implies some low kind of amusement connected with\nthe senses. We also discover among the Anglo-Saxons an unamiable\ntendency to give nicknames to people from their personal peculiarities.\nBut if we look for anything better, we can find only a translation of\nthe Latin riddles of Symposius by Aldhelm, Bishop of Shirburn. This\nprelate, who was a relation of Ina, King of the West Saxons, was in\nattainments far superior to his age. He was celebrated as a harper,\npoet, and theologian, and wrote several works, especially one in praise\nof Virginity. His translations from Symposius were probably intended\nfor the post-prandial delectation of the monks.\n\nAristophanes seems to have made the first approach to rhyming, for he\nintroduced some repetitions of the same word at the end of lines. He\nprobably thought the device had an absurd effect and used it as a kind\nof humour. Aulus Gellius blames Isocrates, who lived about 400\nB.C., for introducing jingles into his orations, and as he also\nrefers to Lucilius' condemnation of them, he would probably have\nobjected to them in poetry.\n\nClassic Latin versification is supposed to have died out with\nFortunatus, Bishop of Poitiers in the sixth century, but an advance was\nmade towards playing with words by the introduction of rhymes in the\nchurch hymns. Some trace of them is found in the verses of Hilary in the\nfourth century, but we find them first regularly adopted in a Latin\npanegyric written for Clotaire II. in France at the commencement of the\nseventh. Some suppose that \"Leonine verses\" were invented shortly\nafterwards by Pope Leo II. As in the days of Greece and Rome, the\ndevelopment of poetry was accompanied by a considerable activity in the\nfabrication of metres. This did not limit itself to a distich or\nalternate rhyme called \"tailed\" or \"interlaced,\" but included the\n\"horned,\" \"crested,\" and \"squared\" verses--the last forming double\nacrostics. Sometimes half a dozen lines were made to rhyme together.\nThis movement, pedantic as it was, showed an advance in finding\nsimilarities in things dissimilar, a change in the appreciation of the\nharmony. Previously rhymes were considered ludicrous, as they seem to us\nnow in prose, and even in the French drama. The old Welsh poetry\ndepended merely upon alliteration--as in the words ascribed to the\nBritish Queen--\n\n  \"Ruin seize thee, ruthless king.\"\n\nAnd among our old proverbs we have \"Many men of many minds.\" \"Fools\nbuild houses, for wise men to live in.\" \"First come, first served.\" The\nmotto of the Duke of Athole runs \"Furth fortune and fill the fetters.\"\n\nThe \"Exeter Book,\" presented to his cathedral by Leofric, first Bishop\nof Exeter in 1046 deserves notice, as indicative of the course of early\nAnglo-Saxon literature. Here we have first religious meditations and\nlegends of Saints, then proverbial, or as they are called \"gnomic\"\nverses, next allegorical descriptions by means of animals, and finally\nriddles. The last are very long, and generally consist of emblematic\ndescriptions.\n\nIt is a part of the great system of compensation under which we live,\nthat those who are most highly praised are most exposed to the attacks\nof the envious, and that those who stand on an eminence above others\nshould have their bad as well as their good deeds recorded. And thus we\nfind that the earliest shafts of censure were directed against princes\nand priests, and the first Norman satires of which we hear were some\nsongs called Sirventois, against Arnould, who was chaplain to Robert\nCourthose in the time of William Rufus. He was apparently an excellent\nman, established schools at Caen, and was afterwards promoted to be\npatriarch of Jerusalem. The next attack of which we have any record was\nthat made by Luc de la Barr against Henry I. The nature of the\nimputations it contained may be conjectured from the fact, that the king\nordered the writer's eyes to be put out. Another satire was directed\nagainst Richard, \"King of the Romans,\" who was taken prisoner at Lewes.\nIt was written to triumph over him, and taunt him with his defeat, and\nthe nearest approach to humour in it is where it speaks of his making a\ncastle of a windmill, which is supposed to refer to his having been\ncaptured in such a building. The humour in the satires of this time was\nalmost entirely of a hostile or optical character. We have two metrical\nballads of the thirteenth century directed against the Scotch and\nFrench, but containing little but animosity. There is also one\ncomplaining of heavy taxation in the reign of Edward I., but generally\nthe church was attacked, as the clergy formed a prominent mark in every\nparish in the country, and were safer game than the king or barons.\nThus, in the Harleian MSS., there is an ancient French poem pretending\nto eulogise a new conventual order for both men and women, who are to\nlive together in great luxury and be bound to perpetual idleness.\nSeveral monasteries in England are mentioned as affording instances of\nsuch a mode of living.\n\nThe earliest literary assault we have on the church in this country was\nwritten probably in the thirteenth century--Warton says, soon after the\nconquest--in a mixture of Saxon and Norman. A monastery, composed of\nvarious kinds of gems and delicacies, represents the luxury of the\nmonks--\n\n  \"Fur in see, bi west Spayngne\n   Is a lond ihote Cokaygne:\n   Ther nis lond under heuen-riche\n   Of wel of godness hit iliche.\n\n  \"Ther is a wel fair abbei,\n   Of white monkes and of grei,\n   Ther beth bowris and halles\n   Al of pasteiis beth the walles\n   Of fleis, of fisse, and rich met,\n   The likfullist that man mai et.\n   Fluren cakes beth the schingles[40] alle\n   Of cherche, cloister, boure, and halle.\n   The pinnes[41] beth fat podinges\n   Rich met to princez and kinges.\n\n  \"An other abbei is ther bi\n   For soth a gret fair nunnerie;\n   Vp a riuer of sweet milke,\n   Whar is gret plente of silk.\"\n\nHe goes on to speak of the monks and nuns as dancing together in a very\nindecorous manner.\n\nThe clergy were often humorous themselves--Nigellus Wireker, a monk of\nCanterbury, who is supposed to have lived in the time of Richard I.,\nwrote a very amusing attack on his brethren. It is in Latin elegiac\nverse, and as being directed against ambition and discontent may be\ncompared with the first satire of Horace. But he wrote in a less\nadvanced state of civilisation to that in which the Roman poet lived,\nand he carries on his discourse by means of conversations of animals.\nThe work is called the Brunellus--the name of an ass.\n\nThe poem is directed against passion and avarice--and especially against\nthe monks, who, he says deserve to be called pastors, not _a pascendo_\nbut _a poscendo_. But he takes so much interest in the animals he\nintroduces, that he seems to lose sight of his moral object. He delights\nin the speeches of a cock and crow, but his main story is that the ass,\nBrunellus, is dissatisfied, because, having long ears he thinks he ought\nto have a long tail. He betakes himself to Galienus to consult him, who\nendeavours to dissuade him from adopting any surgical or medical means,\nand reminds him that if he has a short tail he has a very large head. He\ninculcates contentment by a story of two cows, one of which, through\nimpatience when her tail has stuck in the mud, says it is not an\n_honour_ but an _onus_, and so pulls it off, and becomes a laughing\nstock to the world. The other cow waits patiently, and makes a long\nspeech containing references to Cato and the Trojan war.\n\nPrescription given by Galienus to the ass Brunellus to make his tail\ngrow:\n\n  \"Some marble's fat and seven fold furnace shade\n     The offspring of a male and female mule,\n   A little of the milk of goose and kite\n     A punchbowl's racing, and a wolf's alarms;\n   Of dogs and hares alliance take a drachm,\n     And kisses which the lark gives to her hawk.\"\n\nThe ass begs Galienus to bestow upon him his blessing, which he does\nwith mock gravity--\n\n  \"May Jove to thee a thousand omens give,\n   And to thy tail ten thousand omens more;\n   Mayst thou drink water, and on thistles feed,\n   Be thy bed marble, and thy covering dew.\n   May hail and snow and rain be ever near,\n   Ice and hoar frost thy constant comfort be!\"\n\nThe ass, whose extraordinary performances are narrated, is appointed the\n\"nuntius\" of a bishop.\n\nThe man who showed at this time the greatest judgment in humour and\ninsight into its nature, was John of Salisbury. His Polycraticus is\nworthy of a religious character; but he speaks in it of \"Court Trifles\"\nunder which he places dice, music and dreams. Many of his observations\nshow a taste and knowledge in advance of his time. \"Our age,\" he says,\n\"has fallen back to fables,\" and he speaks as though the jesters of the\nday indulged in very questionable jokes and performances. He notices the\nforce of a jest made by a man who would himself fall under it, as when a\npauper laughs at poverty. Also he refers to the effect of accusing a man\nof the faults to which his virtues may lead, as of telling a liberal man\nhe is a spendthrift. \"So Diogenes told Antisthenes, his master, that he\nhad made him a doctor instead of a rich man--a dweller in a tub, instead\nof in a mansion.\" Well-timed pleasantries, he says, are of use in\noratory, but convivial jesting is dangerous, remarks or personal defects\nare objectionable, and as Lycurgus ordered, all jokes should be without\nbitterness.\n\nBut Walter Mapes seems to have been the first man of note, who\nreconciled \"divinity and wit.\" He was born on the borders of Wales about\nthe beginning of the twelvth century, and having studied at the\nUniversity of Paris became a favourite of Henry II., and was made a\nCanon of St. Paul's, and Archdeacon of Oxford. It may be worth notice\nthat his name was really a monosyllable, \"Map,\" a man's appellation\nbeing not always without influence in determining his character and\nconduct. From being a man of humour he obtained the credit of being a\nman of pleasure, but as far as we can collect from the writings, which\nare with certainty attributed to him, he was strongly imbued with\nreligious feelings. He delights to recount the miracles of saints. Peter\nof Tarentaise exorcised, he tells us, a devil from one possessed, and\nthe man proved his cure by exclaiming, \"Mother of God, have mercy upon\nme!\" whereupon John the bishop said of Peter. \"This is the only\nbishop--the rest of us are dogs unable to bark.\" Mapes also reflects the\ncredulity of the age in which he lived, by narrating extraordinary\nstories of infidels walking about after death, and calling people by\nname, who always died shortly afterwards. He gives us a collection of\nWelsh \"apparitions.\"\n\nWe must suppose that even at that day there was something peculiarly\nfanciful in the mind of the man who collected such tales. But, although\nhe commends his favourite saints as being jocund and pleasant men, we\nare disappointed when we look for his own wit. It is either verbal or\nsententious, and does not rise higher than, \"Few things are impossible\nto women.\" \"May God omnipotent grant you not to be deceived by woman\nomnipotent.\" \"The dog does not gnaw a dry bone, nor the leech stick to\nan empty vein.\" His \"Mirror of the Church\" is full of violent attacks\nupon the monastic orders, especially the Cistercian, evidently written\nin serious indignation, although he sometimes indulges in a play upon\nwords. In this he was unlike many writers, who attacked the monks merely\nto amuse, for which there was a good opening, as the brethren, though in\nsome cases weak, were generally viewed with respect, and tales about\nthem were easily regarded as humorous. There is a story of Walter Mapes\nhaving been called to see a Cistercian Abbot, when dangerously ill, and\nthe Archdeacon recommended him to quit his order, and give up avarice\nand rapacity. The Abbot refused, and even administered to the Archdeacon\nthe rebuke, \"Get thee behind me, Satan.\" Shortly afterwards Mapes was\ntaken ill, and the Abbot going to visit him, strongly recommended him to\nrenounce his light jesting habits, to give up his pluralities, and take\nrefuge in the bosom of the Cistercian order--at the same time producing\na gown and cowl, with which he proposed to invest him. Mapes, with\ncharacteristic humour called his servants, and told them that, if ever\nin a fit of sickness he expressed a desire of becoming a monk, they\nwere to consider it a sign that he had lost his senses, and keep him in\nclose confinement.\n\nThe character which Mapes obtained for himself, caused a large amount of\npoetry of a somewhat later date to be attributed to him. It is called\n\"Goliardic,\" as it gives the views of a class of wild ecclesiastical or\nUniversity men, who spent their time in composing lampoons, and were\ncalled Goliards, from their supposed gluttony. In an epigram, one of\nthese men is represented coming to a bishop's palace, and stating that\nhe is \"all ready to dine,\" somewhat in the way of the old Greek\nparasites. The bishop tells him he does not want such disreputable\ncompany, but that as he has come, he may have his food. We may suppose,\nhowever, that he and his poorer brethren did not occupy any dignified\nposition at the repast, as one of them complains\n\n  \"Abbas ire sede sursum,\n   Et prioris juxta ipsum,\n   Ego semper stavi dorsum\n           Inter rascalilia.\"\n\nAll these poems are in Latin rhyme. Two of them are especially\nattributed to Mapes. One is \"on not marrying;\" Golias here sets forth a\nvery appalling catalogue of the miseries of matrimony. The husband is a\ndonkey who is spurned by his wife. Her tongue is a sword. He thanks\nheaven he has escaped from the danger he was once in from the\nfascinations of a beautiful lady. The other piece is the \"Confessions of\nGolias,\" which are very frank with regard to various unclerical\nweaknesses. Some of the stanzas may be translated as follows,\n\n  \"I purpose in a tavern to die,\n   Place to my dying lips the flowing bowl,\n   May choirs of angels coming from on high\n   Sing, 'God be gracious to the toper's soul.'[42]\n\n  \"The race of poets shun both drink and food,\n   Avoid disputes, withdraw from public strife,\n   And to make verses that shall long hold good\n   O'ercome with labour, sacrifice their life.\n\n  \"Nature allots to each his proper course,\n   In hunger I could never use my ink,\n   The smallest boy then equals me in force,\n   I hate as death the want of food and drink.\"\n\nIn one of these poems, Golias calls down every kind of misery, spiritual\nand temporal, upon the man who has stolen his purse. He hopes he may die\nof fever and madness, and be joined to Judas in hell. One of the most\namusing pieces is a consultation held among the priests, on account of\nthe Pope having ordered them to dismiss their women-servants. They\nfinally come to the conclusion that parish priests should be allowed two\nwives, monks and canons three, and deans and bishops four or five. We\nare not surprised to hear that such effusions as these called down the\ndispleasure of the heads of the Church, and in 1289, a statute was\npublished that no clerks should be \"joculatores, goliardi seu bufones.\"\n\nAbout the middle of the fourteenth century, a French monk, Robert\nLanglande, wrote the \"Vision of Piers Plowman,\" an account of a dream he\nis supposed to have had when among the Malvern Hills. It is possible\nthat the sight of the grand old abbey may have suggested his theme, for\nhe inveighs not only against the laity, but especially against the\necclesiastics for their neglect of the poor. The poem is remarkable for\nbeing without rhythm, but alliterative, such as was common in the\nneighbouring district of Wales. It somewhat resembles one of the old\n\"Mysteries,\" introducing a variety of allegorical characters. Some of\nthe personifications are very strange. He says that,\n\n  \"Dowel and Dobet and Dobest the thirde coth he\n   Arn thre fair vertues and ben not fer to fynde.\"\n\n  \"Dobest is above bothe, and berith a bieschopis crois\n   And is hokid on that on ende to halie men fro helle\n   And a pike is in the poynt to putte adon the wyked.\"\n\nIn another place, the effects of starvation are described \"both the\nman's eiyen wattred,\" and \"he loked like a lanterne.\"\n\nIn another work by the same hand, \"Piers, the Ploughman's crede,\" the\nauthor--a simple man--wishes to know how he is to follow Christ, and\nbetakes himself to the friars for information. But he finds that each\norder thinks of little beyond railing against some other. The friars\npreachers are thus described,\n\n  \"Than turned I ayen whan I hadde al ytoted\n   And fond in a freitoure a frere on a benche\n   A greet chorl and a grym, growen as a tonne,\n   With a face so fat, as a ful bleddere\n   Blowen bretful of breth, and as a bagge honged.\"\n\nAll the humour of Piers the Ploughman seems to be more or less of this\npersonal kind.\n\nWe must here notice the humorous though scurrilous attack made upon the\nRoman clergy in the \"Letters of Obscure Men,\" published in Germany at\nthe commencement of the sixteenth century. There was something novel in\nthe idea of a series of ironical letters, and from their appearance, the\nsteady progress of the Reformation may be dated. The greater part of\nthem seems to have been written by Ulrich von Hutten, and are addressed\nto Ortuin Gratius, a professor of the University of Cologne, who had\nattacked Reuchlin, a celebrated Hebraist. The original quarrel was only\nabout some translations of Rabbinical works, but it extended into a\ncontest between the Church party, represented by Gratius, and those\ndesirous of reformation. Doctrine is scarcely touched upon in these\nletters, but accusations of immorality abound. There is great variety\nin the plan upon which the irony and satire are conducted. For instance,\nthe writer says he has just heard from Gratius that he is sending\nflowers and gifts to another man's wife. \"Reuchlin has written a defence\nof himself against Gratius, in which he calls him an ass. Reuchlin ought\nto be burnt with his book. Some people say the monks are grossly\ndishonest--it is a horrible lie. A preacher, after taking a little too\nmuch wine, has actually said that the principals of the University are\ngiven to drink and play. Some profane men say that the coat of our Lord\nat Treves is not genuine, but only an old rag; he does not believe there\nis now any hair of the Virgin in the world; and the preaching friars who\nsell indulgences are only a set of buffoons who deceive old apple-women.\nAnother fool says that the preaching friars committed fearful\nabominations at Berne, and one day put poison into the consecrated\nelements. A great calamity has happened! A thief has stolen three\nhundred florins, which the preachers had gained by the sale of\nindulgences. The people who gave the money are in sad trouble to know\nwhether they still have absolution--they need not be alarmed, they have\nas much as they had before they gave their money to the friars. Query.\nIs it a sin to play at dice in order to buy indulgences? Gratius, in a\nletter to another Father of the Church, expresses his astonishment at\nhearing that he thinks so much about the ladies. Such thoughts come from\nthe devil; wherever they are suggested, he must make the sign of the\ncross on his back, and put a pinch of blessed salt on his tongue. Women\nmake him ill by employing charms and sorceries against him; it is no\nwonder, for he has grey hair and eyes, a red face, a large nose, and a\ncorporation. No man should ever make use of necromancy to obtain a\nwoman's love, for a student of theology once fell in love with a baker's\ndaughter at Leipzig, and threw an enchanted apple at her,[43] which\ncaused her to fall violently in love with him, and finally led to a\nscandal in the church.\"\n\nNo one enjoyed these epistles more thoroughly than Erasmus,[44] who,\nperhaps, from being himself a monk, appreciated them the better. He is\nsaid to have laughed so immoderately over some parts of them, that he\nburst an abscess, which might have proved fatal to him. He was one of\nthose few celebrated men who combine both humour and learning, and he\nseems to have imbibed somewhat of the spirit of Lucian, whose works he\ntranslated, and who also lived in an age of religious controversy and\ntransition. There was such a love of amusement, and so little\nearnestness in Erasmus, that he could laugh on both sides of the\nquestion, with the Reformers and against them. When the monks told him\nthat Luther had married a nun, and that the offspring of such an unholy\nalliance must needs be Antichrist, he merely replied: \"Already are there\nmany Antichrists!\" Writing to a zealous Catholic in London, he says\n\"that he grudges the heretics their due, because that, whereas winter is\napproaching, it will raise the price of fagots.\" In another place he\nattacks dignities: \"No situation,\" he says, \"could be more wretched than\nthat of the vicegerents of Christ, if they endeavoured to follow\nChrist's life.\" There was scarcely anything sacred or profane which was\nsafe from the lash of his ridicule, and if, as some say, he sowed the\nseeds of the Reformation, it was mostly because he could not resist the\ntemptation to laugh at the clergy. He wrote a very characteristic Work\nentitled \"The Praise of Folly,\" \"Encomium Moriae\" (a play on the name of\nSir Thomas More), in which he maintains a sort of paradox, setting forth\nthe value and advantages of folly, _i.e._, of indulging the light\nfancies and errors of imagination. With much humorous illustration he\nenumerates a great many conceits, and includes among them jests, but his\nmain argument may be thus condensed.[45]\n\n\"Who knows not that man's childhood is by far the most delightful period\nof his existence? And why? Because he is then most a fool. And next to\nthat his youth, in which folly still prevails; while in proportion as he\nretires from her dominion, and becomes possessed through discipline and\nexperience of mature wisdom, his beauty loses its bloom, his strength\ndeclines, his wit becomes less pungent, until at last weary old age\nsucceeds, which would be absolutely unbearable, unless folly, in pity\nfor such grievous miseries, gave relief by bringing on a second\nchildhood. Nature herself has kindly provided for an abundant supply of\nfolly in the human race, for since, according to the Stoic definition,\nwisdom means only being guided by reason; whereas folly, on the other\nhand, consists in submitting to the government of the passions; Jupiter\nwishing to make life merry, gave men far more passion than reason,\nbanishing the latter into one little corner of his person, and leaving\nall the rest of the body to the sway of the former. Man, however, being\ndesigned for the arrangement of affairs, could not do without a small\nquantity of reason, but in order to temper the evil thus occasioned, at\nthe suggestion of folly woman was introduced into the world--\"a foolish,\nsilly creature, no doubt, but amusing, agreeable, and well adapted to\nmitigate the gloom of man's temper.\" Woman owes all her advantages to\nfolly. The great end of her existence is to please man, and this she\ncould not do without folly. If any man doubts it, he has only to\nconsider how much nonsense he talks to a woman whenever he wishes to\nenjoy the pleasures of female society.\"\n\nErasmus wrote an ode in honour of Henry VII. and his children, and in it\nhe recommends him to keep with him Skelton, \"the one light and ornament\nof British literature.\" He says that no doubt the advice is unnecessary,\nas he hears the King is most anxious to retain his services. He was\ntutor to the young prince--afterwards Henry VIII. Skelton was born about\n1460. Many of his humorous writings are lost, such as \"The Balade of the\nMustarde Tarte.\" He became a \"poet laureate,\" at that time a degree in\ngrammar, rhetoric and versification, on taking which, the graduate was\npresented with a laurel crown. Having taken orders in 1498, he was\nafterwards suspended for living with a lady whom he had secretly\nmarried. This suspension was much owing to his having incurred the anger\nof the Dominican Friars, whom he had attacked in his writings. We are\ntold that he was esteemed more fit for the stage than the pulpit. The\nhumour of Skelton consists principally of severe personal vituperation.\nIn \"Colyn Cloute\" he assailed the clergy generally, but he wrote\npersonal attacks on Garnesche (a courtier), and on Wolsey. The Cardinal\nhad been his patron at one time, and Skelton had dedicated poems to him,\namong them \"A Replycacion\" against the followers of Wickliffe and\nLuther--of which pious effusion the following lines will give a\nspecimen:--\n\n  \"To the honour of our blessed lady\n   And her most blesed baby,\n   I purpose for to reply\n   Agaynst this horryble heresy\n   Of these young heretics that\n             Stynke unbrent.\n\n  \"I say, thou madde marche hare,\n   I wondre how ye dare\n   Open your ianglyng iawes,\n   To preche in any clawes\n   Lyke pratynge poppyng dawes.\n\n  \"I say, ye braynless beestes,\n   Why iangle you such iestes.\n   In your diuynite\n   Of Luther's affynite\n   To the people of lay fee\n   Raylying in your rages\n   To worshyppe none ymages\n   Nor do pylgrymages.\"\n\nThe cause of his quarrel with Wolsey is not known, but he afterwards\nwrote a severe personal attack upon him entitled, \"Why come ye not to\nCourte?\" The tone of this effusion may be gathered from such expressions\nas:--\n\n  \"God save his noble grace\n   And grant him a place\n   Endlesse to dwell,\n   With the deuyll of hell,\n   For and he were there\n   We nede neuer feere,\n   Of the fendys blake;\n   For I vndertake\n   He wolde so brag and crake,\n   That he wolde then make\n   The deuyls to quake,\n   To shudder and to shake.\"\n\nOwing to such attacks, he was obliged to flee and take sanctuary at\nWestminster, where he died. His most entertaining pieces are \"Speke\nParrot,\" \"Phyllyt Sparrowe,\" and \"Elynour Rummynge.\" In the first a fair\nlady laments the death of her bird, killed by \"those vylanous false\ncattes.\" She sings a \"requiescat\" for the soul of her dear bird, and\nrecounts all his pretty ways--\n\n  \"Sometyme he wolde gaspe\n   When he sawe a waspe;\n   A fly or a gnat\n   He wolde flye at that;\n   And prytely he wold pant\n   When he saw an ant;\n   Lord, how he wolde pry\n   After the butterfly!\n   Lord, how he wolde hop\n   After the gressop,\n   And whan I said Phypp, Phypp,\n   Than he wolde lepe and skyp,\n   And take ane by the lyp.\n   Alas it will me slo\n   That Phillyp is gone we fro!\"\n\nShe gives a long list of birds, who are to attend at his funeral, from\nwhich our nursery story of cock-robin may be taken. Skelton seems to\nhave been fond and observant of birds. In Speke Parrot, he thus\ndescribes\n\n  \"With my beeke bent, my lyttyl wanton eye,\n   My fedders freshe as is the emrawde grene,\n   About my neck a cyrculet lyke the ryche rubye\n   My lyttyl leggys, my feet both fete and clene,\n   I am a mynyon to wayt uppon a quene;\n   My proper parrot my lyttyl prety foole,\n   With ladyes I lerne and go with them to scole.\"\n\nIt will be observed that the humour in the above pieces is little\nseparated from poetry. In Elynour Rummynge however, we have something\nundoubtedly jocose, and proportionally rustic and uncouth.\n\nSkelton adopted, as we have seen, a quick, short metre, somewhat\nanalogous to the \"Swift Iambics,\" of the Greek humorists. Sometimes also\nhe alternated Latin with English in a conceit not very uncommon towards\nthe end of the fourteenth and in the fifteenth century as--\n\n  \"Freeres, freeres, wo ye be!\n     Ministri malorum,\n   For many a mannes soul bringe ye,\n     Ad poenas infernorum.\"\n\nNo work became more popular than the Ship of Fools by Sebastian Brandt.\nIt was published in Germany in 1494, and was speedily translated into\nLatin and French. Alexander Barclay altered it so considerably in the\nrendering as almost to make a new work, especially applicable to the\nstate of things existing in this country. Ersch and Grueber speak of\nBrandt's fools as contemptible and loathsome, and say what he calls\nfollies might be better described as sins and vices. But here and there\nwe meet with touches of humour in the mishaps and absurd actions of\nthose he censures. The whole work is rather of a moral and religious\ncomplexion, as the following heading of the poem will suggest--\n\n\"Of newe fassions and disgised garmentes. Of Avaryce and prodygalyte. Of\nvnprofytable stody. Of lepynges and dauncis and Folys that pas theyr\ntyme in suche vanyte. Of Pluralitees, of flatterers, and glosers. Of the\nvyce of slouth. Of Usurers and okerers. Of the extorcion of knyghtis. Of\nfollisske, cokes, and buttelers.\"\n\nLiterature increased greatly in the fifteenth century, and began to take\nthat general form it afterwards bore. One of the satires on the fashions\nof the period, which in every age seem to have afforded materials for\nmirth, begins as follows--\n\n  \"Ye prowd gallonttes hertlesse\n   With your hyghe cappis witlesse,\n   And youre schort gownys thriftlesse,\n   Have brought this londe in gret hevynesse.\n   With youre longe peked schone.\n   Therfor your thrifte is almost don,\n   And with youre long here into your eyen\n   Have brought this londe to gret pyne.\"\n\nThere is a good satire written on a priest about the time of the\nReformation, showing considerable humour both in matter, language and\nversification. It is called \"Doctor Doubble Ale.\"\n\nA little episode is given arising from the priest's ignorance--\n\n  \"His learning is exceeding\n   Ye may know by his reading,\n   Yet coulde a cobbler's boy him tell\n   That he red a wrong gospell\n   Wherfore in dede he served him well,\n   He turned himselfe as round as a ball,\n   And with loud voyce began to call,\n   'Is there no constable among you all\n   To take this knave that doth me troble?'\n   With that all was on a hubble shubble,\n   There was drawing and dragging,\n   There was lugging and lagging,\n   And snitching and snatching,\n   And ketching and catching,\n   And so the pore ladde,\n   To the counter they had,\n   Some wolde he should be hanged,\n   Or else he shulde be wranged;\n   Some sayd it were a good turne\n   Such an heretyke to burn.\"\n\nA great many of the humorous poems written against the church were\nrepublished at the time of the Reformation to show that for centuries\nthe misdoings of the clergy had been a source of comment. In \"the Sak\nfull of Nuez\"--a rare book[46] referred to in 1575, containing a\ncollection of humorous pieces of a rough and rude character--we find\nseveral hits at the expense of the church.\n\n\"A friar used to visit the house of an old woman, who, when he was\ncoming, very prudently hid whatever she had to eat. One day coming with\nsome friends, he asked her if she had not some meat. And she said,\n'Nay.' 'Well,' quoth the friar, 'have you not a whetstone?' 'Yea,' quoth\nthe woman, 'what will you do with it?' 'Marry,' quoth he, 'I would make\nmeat thereof.' Then she brought a whetstone. He asked her likewise if\nshe had not a frying-pan. 'Yea,' said she, 'but what the divil will ye\ndo therewith?' 'Marry,' said the fryer, 'you shall see by and by what I\nwill do with it;' and when he had the pan, he set it on the fire, and\nput the whetstone therein. 'Cocks-body,' said the woman, 'you will burn\nthe pan.' 'No, no,' quoth the fryer, 'if you will give me some eggs, it\nwill not burn at all.' But she would have had the pan from him, when\nthat she saw the pan was in danger; but he would not let her, but still\nurged her to fetch him some eggs, which she did. 'Tush,' said the fryer,\n'here are not enow, go fetch ten or twelve.' So the good wife was\nconstrayned to fetch more, for feare that the pan should burn, and when\nhe had them he put them in the pan. 'Now,' quoth he, 'if you have no\nbutter, the pan will burn and the eggs too.' So the good-wife, being\nvery loth to have her pan burnt, and her eggs lost, she fetcht him a\ndish of butter, the which he put into the pan and made good meat\nthereof, and brought it to the table, saying, 'Much good may it do you,\nmy hostess, now may you say you have eaten of a buttered whetstone.'\"\n\nAnother story runs as follows:--\n\n\"There was a priest in the country, which had christened a child; and\nwhen he had christened it, he and the clerk were bidden to the drinking\nthat should be there, and being there, the priest drank and made so\nmerry that he was quite foxed, and thought to go home before he laid him\ndown to sleep; but, having gone a little way, he grew so drousie that he\ncould go no further, but laid him down by a ditch-side, so that his feet\ndid hang in the water, and lying on his back, the moon shined in his\nface; thus he lay till the rest of the company came from drinking, who,\nas they came home, found the priest lying as aforesaid, and they thought\nto get him away, but do what they could, he would not rise, but said,\n'Do not meddle with me, for I lie very well, and will not stir hence\nbefore morning, but I pray lay some more cloathes on my feet, and blow\nout the candle.'\"\n\nAt first it occasions us no little surprise to find the clergy of the\nearly centuries so prone to attack and ridicule one another, but we must\nremember that there was then no reading public, and that the few copies\nof books in existence were mostly within the walls of the monasteries.\nThus, the object of these writers would be like that of St. Jerome in\nhis letters, not so much to disgrace the Church as to improve its\ndiscipline. We can also, perhaps, understand how the conflicts between\nthe parish priests and monks led them sometimes to caricature each other\nin the grotesque heads of corbels and gargoyles; nor does it surprise us\nthat Luther, indignant and rude, should portray the Pope to the public\nunder the form of a jackass.\n\nBut how can we account for the strange and profane caricatures which are\nso numerous in the stone and wood carvings of our cathedrals? In the\nscriptural ornamentation of the thirteenth century in Strasburg\nCathedral, there was the representation of a funeral performed by\nanimals--a hare carried the taper, a wolf the cross, and a bear the holy\nwater--while in another place a stag was celebrating mass, and an ass\nreading the gospel. We often find carvings in which foxes are habited as\necclesiastics, sometimes accompanied by geese, who represent their\nflock, and thus we can understand the significance of the design in\nSherborne Minster and Wellingborough, where two geese are hanging a fox.\n\nIn St. Mary's, Beverley, are two foxes dressed as ecclesiastics, each\nholding a pastoral staff, while a goose's head is peeping out of his\nhood. At Boston Church we find a fox in a cope and episcopal vestments,\nseated on a throne, and holding a pastoral staff, while on the right is\nan ass holding a book for the bishop to read. The fact was that no means\nwere left untried by the Church to make converts and to obtain a hold on\nthe people. They wished to render religion as attractive as possible,\nand perhaps to direct and control tendencies which they could not\ndestroy. It was then a favourite doctrine that the end justified the\nmeans--the Roman Church instituted persecutions, adopted heathen rites,\nand ordained fasts and festivals to impress the mind. It is recorded\nthat Theophylact of Constantinople introduced into the Church, in the\ntenth century, the licentious \"Feast of Fools,\" to wean the people from\nthe revels of their old religion, and have we not until late years\ncelebrated the Nativity of our Lord, not only by games and frolics, but\ngluttony and drunkenness, and riotous proceedings, under pagan misletoe!\nI believe that among the masses of the people the Roman saturnalia still\nsurvive. We need not then be surprised that the early Christians tried\nto recommend religion by unsuitable ornamentation. They adopted all\nkinds of floral designs, they represented fables and romances. In the\nold church of Budleigh, in Devonshire--which Sir Walter Raleigh\nattended, and where his head is buried--all kinds of devices are\nrepresented on the pews, from a pair of scissors to a man-of-war,\nincluding a cook holding a sheep by the tail. It was only a step from\nthis to introduce humour, and as men's feelings had not then been\nchastened or brought into order by reflection, they probably overlooked\nthe lowering tendencies of levity. Those who came to laugh, might remain\nto pray, and so a strange crop of incongruities germinated upon the\nsacred soil. Thus, in Beverley Minster, we have a monkey riding upon a\nhare--a bedridden goat, with a monkey acting as doctor; and at\nWinchester a boar is playing on the fiddle, while a young pig is\ndancing.[47] Even scenes of drunkenness and immorality are not always\nexcluded. But the principal representations attributed human actions to\nbirds and beasts--people who could laugh at stories of this kind, could\nalso at depictions of them. It may be maintained that men were then\nhighly emotional, and demanded but little complexity or truth in humour,\nso that they could see something amusing in a boar playing upon the\nbagpipes, or in such a device as a monster composed of two birds, with\nthe head of a lion, or another with a human head on a lion's body! But\nthere must have been something more than this--some peculiar estimation\nof animals to account for such numerous representations. They were\ncommon in the secular ornamentation of the day, for instance, in a MS.\ncopy of Froissart of the fifteenth century, there is a drawing of a pig\nwalking upon stilts, playing the harp, and wearing one of the tall\nhead-dresses then in fashion.\n\nThis love of the comic seems to have been fostered by the leisure and\nthe lively turn of some ecclesiastics. In the injunctions given to the\nBritish Church in the year 680, no bishop is to allow tricks or\njocosities (ludos vel jocos) to be exhibited before him, and later we\nread of two monks, near Oxford, receiving a man hospitably, thinking he\nwas a \"jougleur,\" and could perform tricks, but kicking him out on\nfinding themselves mistaken. We find some of the monks amusing\nthemselves with \"cloister humour,\" consisting principally of logical\nparadoxes; while others indulged in verbal curiosities, such as those of\nTryphiodorus, the lipogrammatist, who wrote an Odyssey in twenty-four\nbooks without once using the letter A. Some were more fond of pictorial\ndesigns, and carved great figures on the chalk downs, such as the Giant\nof Cerne Abbas, in Dorsetshire, and the Long Man of Wilmington, in\nSussex.\n\nAs we found reason to believe that the earliest kind of laughter was\nthat of pleasure, so in this revival of civilization, we often see\nhumour regarded as having no influence beyond that of ministering to\namusement. The mind was scarcely equal to regarding things in more than\none light. A jest was often viewed as entirely unimportant, its levity\nand depreciatory character being altogether overlooked. To this and to\nthe hostile element then very prominent, we may attribute the\ncaricatures of the devil, formerly so common. Before the tenth century,\nthe devil was thought too dreadful to be portrayed, but afterwards, as\nthe Church made a liberal exhibition of the torments of hell, the idea\noccurred of deterring offenders by representing evil spirits in as\nfrightful a form as possible. Some think that such figures were\nsuggested by the Roman satyrs, but they may have come from Jewish or\nRunic sources. There is a mediaeval story of a monk having carved an\nimage of the devil so much more repulsive than he really was, that the\nsable gentleman called upon him one night to expostulate. The monk,\nhowever, was inexorable. But the story says further that, although the\nholy man was proof against the entreaties of the devil, he was not so\nwell armed against the fascinations of the fair, and owing to his\nsuffering a defeat at the hands of the latter came afterwards to be shut\nup in prison. The original of his portrait again called upon him, and\nthe monk agreed that, if he would obtain his release, he would represent\nhim as a handsome fellow.\n\nAs times advanced, people began to fear the devil less, and to be amused\nat these strange carvings. From regarding them as ludicrous, it was only\na step to make humorous caricatures--and there could be little harm in\nridiculing the Devil. Thus we frequently find imps and demons brought in\nto perform the comic parts in the Church mysteries. It was a short\nadvance from the ludicrous to the humorous, and thus we find the devil a\nmerry fellow, playing all kinds of practical jokes on mankind. Such\nrepresentations would now appear rather ludicrous than humorous, and are\nseldom seen, except to amuse children on Valentine's Day.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER III.\n\nOrigin of Modern Comedy--Ecclesiastical Buffoonery--Jougleurs and\n  Minstrels--Court Fools--Monks' Stories--The \"Tournament of\n  Tottenham\"--Chaucer--Heywood--Roister Doister--Gammer Gurton.\n\n\nAs the early drama of Greece arose from the celebration of religious\nrites, so that of modern times originated in the church. This does not\nseem so strange when we remember that religion is in connection with\nabstract thought, and with an exercise of the representative powers of\nthe mind. And if we ask how comedy could have been thus introduced, the\nreply must be that the ideal of former ages was very different from our\nown. In the days when the mind was dull and inactive, striking\nillustrations were very necessary to awaken interest in moral and\nspiritual teaching. They changed in accordance with the progress of the\ntimes and country--sometimes the medium was fables or other such\nimpossible fictions, sometimes it was similitudes from nature, as\nparables, and sometimes dramatic performances. Whatever drama the Jews\nhad was of a religious character. It is supposed by some that the\nwords--\"When your children shall say unto you, 'What mean ye by this\nservice,'\" refers to some commemorative representation. However this may\nbe, we know that about the year 100 B.C., Ezekiel, an Alexandrian Jew,\nwrote a play in Greek on the Exodus, which somewhat resembled a\n\"mystery.\" Luther thought that the books of Judith and Tobit were\noriginally in a dramatic form; and, even among the Jews, a comic element\nwas sometimes introduced--as in the ancient Ahasuerus' play at the feast\nof Purim--with a view of attracting attention at a time when people had\nlittle reflection, and were not very particular about the intermingling\nof utterly incongruous feelings, whether religion and cruelty, or\nreligion and humour.\n\nWe have traced the gradual decline of the drama in Rome, until it\nconsisted but of buffooneries and mimes; and so its revival in modern\ntimes commenced with performances in dumb show, the low intellectual\ncharacter of the age being reflected in popular exhibitions. The mimi\nwere people who performed barefooted, clothed in skins of animals,\nwith shaven heads, and faces smeared with soot. The Italians gradually\ncame to relish nothing but a sort of pantomime, and it seems to have\noccurred to the Roman Church, always enterprising and fond of\nadaptation, that they might turn this taste of the people to some\naccount. Accordingly, we read of religious mummings in Spain as early as\nthe sixth century, and in 1264 the Brotherhood of the Gonfalone was\nfounded in Italy to represent the sufferings of Christ in dumb show and\nprocessions.[48] In France the performance of holy plays, termed\nMysteries, dates from the conclusion of the fourteenth century, when a\ncompany of pilgrims from the Holy Land, with their gowns hung with\nscallop shells and images, assisted at the marriage of Charles VI. and\nIsabella of Bavaria. They were incorporated as a Society in Paris to\ngive dramatic entertainments, and were known as the \"Fraternity of the\nPassion.\" Originally the intention was to represent scenes in Scripture\nhistory, but gradually they introduced \"Moralities\"--fanciful pieces in\nwhich God, the Devil, the Virtues, &c., were the dramatis personae. In\none of these, for instance, the Devil invites the Follies to a banquet\non their arrival in hell. When they sit down the table seems hospitably\nspread, but as soon as they begin to touch the food it all bursts into\nflame, and the piece concludes with fireworks. We can see that a comic\nelement might easily be introduced into such performances. But Charles\nVI., who seems to have been fond of all mimetic exhibitions, formed\nanother company named \"L'Institution Joyeuse,\" composed of the sons of\nthe best families in Paris, who, under the name of the \"Enfans sans\nSouci,\" and presided over by the \"Prince des Sots,\" made France laugh at\nthe follies of the day, personal and political. The above mentioned\nreligious fraternity joined these gay performers without apparently\nseeing anything objectionable in such a connection, and under the name\nof the \"Clercs de la Bazoche,\" or clerks of the revels, acted with them\nalternately. Even in the Mysteries, an occasional element of humour was\nevidently introduced, although many things which would appear ludicrous\nto us did not so affect the people of that day. A tinge of buffoonery\nwas thought desirable. Thus in the \"Massacre of the Holy Innocents,\" a\ngood deal of scuffling takes place on the stage, especially where the\nwomen attack with their distaffs a low fool, who has requested Herod to\nknight him that he may join in the gallant adventure. In France there\nwas \"The Feast of Asses,\" in which the priests were attired like the\nAncient Prophets, and accompanied by Virgil! Balaam, armed with a\ntremendous pair of spurs, rode a wooden ass, in which a man was\nenclosed. Robert Grosseteste, Bishop of Lincoln, forbade the celebration\nin churches of the \"Feast of Fools,\" in which the clergy danced and\ngesticulated in masks. The \"Mysteries\" seem sometimes to have been of\nextraordinary length, for there was a play called \"The Creation,\"\nperformed at Clerkenwell which lasted eight days.\n\nPageantry as well as humour--devices appealing to the senses--were\nlargely employed to enliven the exhibitions of early times. In the\nChristmas games in the reign of Edward I., we find they made use of\neighty tunics of buckram of various colours, forty-two vizors, fourteen\nfaces of women, fourteen of men, and the same number of angels, as well\nas imitations of dragons, peacocks, and swans.\n\nThe taking of Constantinople in 1453 scattered the men of learning\nthroughout the West, and led to a revival of literature. The drama\nrecommenced with representations of the old plays of Plautus. They were\nperformed at the Universities, and on state occasions, as in 1528, when\nHenry VIII. had a stage erected in his great hall at Greenwich.\n\nBut the first development seems to have been in Spain, where the old\nRomans had left their impress, and where the cruel games of the circus\nstill survive in the form of bull-fights. Lopez de Reuda, of Seville,\nfirst brought comedy on the stage, but Cervantes tells us that then the\nwhole wardrobe of an actor consisted of four sheep-skins, trimmed with\ngilt leather, four beards, four wigs, and four shepherds' crooks.\nNevertheless, after the classical period, Spain became the repertory for\nthe comedians of Europe.\n\nSo far we have traced the origin of comedy as to public performance. We\nnow come to consider what tendencies of disposition opened the way for\nit, and led to its becoming a branch of literature. The love of\namusement, which is so strong in man, induced the patronage, which in\nearly times was extended to the various kinds of professors of light\narts.\n\nIn the days of Greece, as in those of Rome, there were ball-players, and\nmountebanks, and we may remember an occasion on which Terence complained\nthat a rope-dancer had enticed away his audience. In Sparta there were\nmen who represented the tricks of thieves and impostors in dances, and\nwhose entertainments, though poor, were superior to that of mere\nmountebanks. The mimes were a still greater improvement, in which a\ncertain amount of amusing narrative was illustrated by dances, songs,\ncontortions, and as the name implies by mimicry. We have seen Plato\nintroducing mimi from Greece, and Julius Caesar interesting himself in\nsuch performers. Our mediaeval fool has been traced to the Roman mime,\nwho continued to please the country-people with coarse and debased\nrepresentations after Rome had fallen, and comedy had perished. Some\nhave even given a classic origin to our pantomime, considering harlequin\nto be Mercury, the clown Momus, pantaloon Charon, and columbine Psyche.\nThe Roman Sannio and Manducus certainly somewhat corresponded to our\nfool and clown, the latter especially in his gormandising propensities.\nBut it is scarcely necessary to travel so far back, for the desire for\namusement has in all countries produced an indigenous supply.\n\nCourt-jesters are heard of as early as the reign of Philip of Macedon,\nbut they seem to have been at first little more than parasites of\ninferior rank and education. In Roman times they were little more than\nbuffoons,[49] and not very different from the mediaeval fools. They seem\nto have received nicknames, and Petronius describes a very low buffoon\nperforming antics in a myrtle robe with a belt round his waist.\n\nAs in ancient times we find Achilles singing to his lyre, so the English\nmusicians and story-tellers were originally amateurs of high rank. We\nread of King Alfred charming the Danes with his minstrelsy. So also in\nthe Arthurian legends Sir Kaye is represented as amusing the company;\nbut at the time of Hoel Dha's Welsh laws, the bard was paid, for we read\nthat the king was to allow him a horse and a woollen garment, and the\nqueen to give him a linen robe; the prefect of the palace is privileged\nto sit near him on festivals and to hand him his harp. Canute seems to\nhave treated his scalds with less ceremony, for he threatened to put one\nof them to death because he recounted his exploits in too short a poem,\nbut the man escaped by producing thirty strophes on the subject next\nday. The Saxon gleemen were generally of humble origin and not only\nperformed music, but exhibited tricks. So also among the Normans we find\nthe barons originally amusing one another with \"gabs,\" _i.e._ boastful\nand exaggerated accounts of their achievements. But soon a greater\namount of leisure and luxury led them to pay for amusement; professed\nmusicians and story-tellers were introduced, and were classed with the\n_ministri_ or servants, whence came the name minstrel, which was soon\nconfined to them alone. We find Talliefer going before William the\nConqueror at the battle of Hastings chanting the brave deeds of\nCharlemagne and making a display of skill in tossing and catching his\nsword and spear. This union of tricks and music became so common that\nthe words minstrel and jougleur were soon synonymous, though there was\noriginally a distinction between them. The word jougleur, sometimes by\nmistake written jongleur, is derived from the latin _joculator_. This\nclass of people were conjurers, as their name suggests, and often went\nabout the country with performing animals, especially bears and monkeys.\nThey gradually added songs to their accomplishments, which more\nassimilated them to the minstrels, and they became connected with, and\nwere sometimes called \"troubadours.\" In these minstrels or jougleurs,\nthough sometimes strolling independently, being often attached to great\nhouseholds, we find an element of the domestic, or as he is called,\ncourt fool, and we find another in their performances being of that\nprimitive character, which appeals chiefly to the perception of the\nsenses. For although the \"jocular\" part, originally subordinate, had\nbeen increased, it took so rude a form that the ludicrous was not always\neasily distinguished from the humorous. The Fool was a strange mixture\nof both, varying from a mere idiot and butt to a man of genius, far\nsuperior to his masters. He made shrewd remarks, and performed senseless\nantics, the city fool, on Lord Mayor's day, was to jump clothes and all\ninto a large bowl of custard. To a certain extent he generally\ncorresponded with his name in having some mental weakness or\neccentricity, and it was a recommendation if he were dwarfish or\ndeformed. He wore a \"motley\" suit of discordant colours to make him\nridiculous, and correspond with the incongruity of his mind and\nactions--a dress similar to the hundred patched _paniculus centunculus_\nof the Roman mimes. Sometimes he wore a petticoat or calf-skin to\nresemble an idiot. Finally, he had his head shaved and wore a cowl to\nmake him like a monk, as his buffooneries would thus have a stranger\ncharacter, and the nobles had no great affection for the church.[50] The\ndomestic fool was common in the fourteenth and fifteenth centuries up to\nthe time of Louis XIV.; but it is said that there were such men at the\nCourt of Louis le Debonnaire. Giraldus Cambrenses writes that when he\nwas preaching for the Crusades in South Wales, one John Spang \"who by\nsimulating fatuity, and having a quick tongue was wont to be a great\ncomfort to the court,\" said to Resus, the king: \"You should be greatly\nindebted to your relative the Archdeacon for sending a hundred of your\nmen to day to follow Christ, and if he had spoken Welsh I do not believe\nthat one of all your people would remain to you.\" This was towards the\nend of the twelfth century, but it does not seem clear that John Spang\nwas a court jester. We may fairly consider that the institution of the\ndomestic fools, the employment of men, who professed jocularity as a\nbranch of art distinct from music and legerdemain increased mental\nactivity, and a growing desire for humour. But the men who made jesting\ntheir profession were generally regarded with contempt, and an Act of\nParliament in the reign of Edward III. ordered strollers of this kind to\nbe whipped out of the town. An old satire written at the time of the\nReformation brings together actors, dustmen, jugglers, conjurers, and\nsellers of indulgences.\n\nBut we want something more than wits and drolleries, and even public\nperformances, to complete our idea of Comedy. We must have literary\ncomposition and artistic construction. From songs of warlike\nachievements such as were chanted by the old scalders to cheer their\nchiefs over the bowl, there arose by degrees fanciful tales with which\nthe Saxons and their successors amused themselves after their dinner,\nand round the blazing hearth. In the tenth century the clergy found\nstories to amuse the post-prandial hour--extravagant, indelicate, or\nprofane--such were the times, but marking improved activity of thought.\nThus they enjoyed such a tale as that a \"prophet\" went to Heriger\n(Archbishop of Mayence about 920) and told him he had been to the nether\nworld, a place, he said, surrounded by woods. The Archbishop replied\nthat, if that was the case, he would send his lean swine there to eat\nacorns. The prophet added that afterwards he went to heaven, and saw\nChrist and his saints sitting at table and eating; John the Baptist was\nthe butler, and served the wine, and St. Peter was the cook. The\nArchbishop asked the stranger how he fared himself, and on his saying\nthat he sat in the corner and stole a piece of liver--Heriger instead of\npraising his sanctity ordered him to be tied to a stake, and flogged for\ntheft. The \"Supper,\" as old as the tenth century, is another humorous\ndescription. A grave assembly of scriptural characters, from Adam and\nEve downwards, are invited, Cain sits on a plough, Abel on a milk-pail\n&c.; two, Paul and Esau, are obliged to stand for want of room, and Job\ncomplains of having nothing to sit on but a dunghill. Jonah is here the\nbutler. Samson brings honey to the dessert, and Adam apples--\n\n  \"Tunc Adam poma ministrat, Samson favi dulcia.\n   David cytharum percussit, et Maria tympana,\n   Judith choreas ducebat et Jubal psalteria\n   Asael metra canebat, saltabat Herodias.\"[51]\n\nThus stories, by degrees, began to be not only composed, but written,\nand although not intended for acting, to be dignified with the old name\nof \"Comedies.\" Such poems were written by Robert Baston, who accompanied\nEdward II. to Scotland.\n\nThe Tournament of Tottenham is a merry story of this kind, written in\nthe reign of Henry VI. It is full of a rough kind of hostile humour,\nand shows the sort of things which amused at that time. Here we have a\nburlesque upon the deeds of chivalry. A mock tournament is held, the\nprize is to be the Reve of Tottenham's daughter, a brood hen, a dun cow,\na grey mare, and a spotted sow. The combatants--clowns and\nrustics--provide themselves with flails, and poles, and sheep skins\n\n  \"They armed tham in mattes;\n   They set on ther nollys (heads)\n   For to kape ther pollys,\n   Gode blake bollys (bowls)\n   For t' batryng of battes (cudgels).\"\n\nThe fierceness of the combat is described:\n\n  \"And fewe wordys spoken,\n   There were flayles al to-slatered,\n   Ther were scheldys al to-flatred,\n   Bollys and dysches al to-schatred,\n   And many hedys brokyn.\"\n\nWe find some specimen of the kind of tales called Comedies, which\npreceded acted Comedy, in the works of Chaucer, who died in 1400.\nScarcely any part of Chaucer's writings would raise a laugh at the\npresent day, though they might a blush.[52] But he was by no means a man\nwho revelled in indelicacy. We may suppose that he was moderate for the\ntime in which he lived, and when he makes an offensive allusion, he\nusually adds some excuse for it. The antiquated language in which his\nworks are written prevents our now appreciating much of the humour they\ncontained; generally, there is more refinement and grace in his\nwritings. No doubt at the time he was thought witty, and his tendency in\nthis direction is shown by his praise of mirth in the \"Romaunt of the\nRose.\"\n\n  \"Full faire was mirth, full long and high,\n   A fairer man I never sigh:\n   As round as apple was his face,\n   Full roddie and white in every place,\n   Fetis he was and well besey,\n   With meetly mouth and eyen gray,\n   His nose by measure wrought full right,\n   Crispe was his haire, and eke full bright,\n   His shoulderes of large trede\n   And smallish in the girdlestede:\n   He seemed like a purtreiture,\n   So noble was he of his stature,\n   So faire, so jolly, and so fetise\n   With limmes wrought at point devise,\n   Deliver smart, and of great might;\n   Ne saw thou never man so light\n   Of berd unneth had he nothing,\n   For it was in the firste spring,\n   Full young he was and merry of thought,\n   And in samette with birdes wrought\n   And with golde beaten full fetously\n   His bodie was clad full richely.\n   Wrought was his robe in straunge gise\n   And all slitttered for queintise\n   In many a place, low and hie,\n   And shode he was with great maistrie\n   With shoone decoped and with lace,\n   By drurie and by solace\n   His leefe a rosen chapelet\n   Had made, and on his head it set.\"\n\nHe speaks in equally high terms of \"Dame Gladnesse.\"\n\nWe can appreciate Chaucer's address to his empty purse--\n\n  \"To you my purse, and to none other wight\n   Complaine I, for ye be my lady dere,\n   I am sorry now that ye be light,\n   For certes ye now make me heauy chere\n   Me were as lefe laid vpon a bere,\n   For which vnto your mercy thus I crie\n   Be heauy againe or els mote I die.\n\n  \"Now vouchsafe this day or it be night\n   That I of you the blissful sowne may here,\n   Or see your colour like the sunne bright\n   That of yelowness had neuer pere;\n   Ye be my life, ye be my hertes stere\n   Queen of comfort, and good companie\n   Be heauy againe, or els mote I die.\n\n  \"Now purse that art to me my liues delight\n   And sauiour, as downe in this world here,\n   Out of this towne helpe me by your might\n   Sith that you woll not be my treasure,\n   For I am shave as nere as any frere,\n   But I pray vnto your curtesie\n   Be heauy againe, or els mote I die.\"\n\nChaucer was very fond of allegory. This is especially visible not only\nin the \"Romaunt of the Rose,\" but in the \"Court of Love,\" \"Flower and\nLeaf,\" the \"House of Fame,\" and the \"Cuckoo and Nightingale.\" In the\n\"Assembly of Fowls\" we have a fable. Chaucer was attached to the service\nof John of Gaunt, which may have led to his attacking the clergy, but in\nhis youth he was fined two shillings for beating a Franciscan friar in\nFleet Street. He favoured Wickliffe, and was for this reason eventually\nobliged to flee the country; but he returned and obtained remunerative\nappointments. It is said that on his death-bed he lamented the\nencouragement which vice might receive from his writings, but their\nindelicacy was not really great for the age in which he lived.\n\nHenry Heywood has been called the \"Father of English Comedy,\" and he was\ncertainly one of the first that wrote original dramas, representing the\nordinary social life of this country. His pieces, which all appeared\nbefore 1550, were short and simple, and seem to us very deficient in\ndelicacy and humour. But in his day he was considered a great wit, and\nas a court-jester drew many a lusty laugh from old King Hal, and could\neven soothe the rugged brow of the fanatical Mary. One of his best\nsayings was addressed to her. When the Queen told Heywood that the\npriests must forego their wives, he answered. \"Then your Grace must\nallow them _lemans_, for the clergy cannot live without sauce.\" He was\ncalled the epigrammatist, but the greater part of his jests seem to have\nlittle point. Some of them have been attributed to Sir Thomas More.\n\nOne of the earliest English comedies written by Nicholas Udall, and\nfound entered in the books of the Stationers' Company in the year,\n1566, is Royster Doister.\n\n  \"Which against the vayne glorious doth invey\n   Whose humour the roysting sort continually doth feede.\"\n\nThe play turns on Ralph Royster Doister--a conceited fool--thinking\nevery woman must fall in love with him. Much of the humour is acoustic,\nand depends on repetitions--\n\n  \"Then twang with our sonnets, and twang with our dumps,\n   And hey hough for our heart, as heavie as lead lumps.\n   Then to our recorder with toodle doodle poope,\n   As the howlet out of an yvie bushe should hoope\n   Anon to our gitterne, thrumpledum, thrumpledrum thrum,\n   Thrumpledum, thrumpledum, thrumpledum, thrumpledum, thrum.\"\n\nRoyster is duped into sending Custance a love-letter, telling her that\nhe seeks only her fortune, and that he will annoy her in every way after\nmarriage. On discovering the deception, he determines to take vengeance\non the scribbler who wrote the love-letter for him:--\n\n  \"Yes, for although he had as many lives\n   As a thousande widowes and a thousande wives,\n   As a thousande lyons and a thousande rattes,\n   A thousande wolves and a thousande cattes,\n   A thousande bulles, and a thousande calves\n   And a thousande legions divided in halves,\n   He shall never 'scape death on my sworde's point\n   Though I shoulde be torne therefore joynt by joynt.\"\n\nWhere he prepares to punish Custance and her friends for refusing him,\nthere is a play on the word \"stomacke\"--used for courage:\n\n  _Ralph Royster._ Yea, they shall know, and thou knowest I have a\n  stomacke.\n\n  _M.M._ A stomacke (quod you) you, as good as ere man had.\n\n  _R. Royster._ I trowe they shall finde and feele that I am a lad.\n\n  _M.M._ By this crosse I have seene you eate your meat as well.\n\n  As any that ere I have seene of, or heard tell,\n  A stomacke quod you? he that will that denie,\n  I know was never at dynner in your companie.\n\n  _R. Royster._ Nay, the stomacke of a man it is that I meane.\n\n  _M.M._ Nay, the stomacke of a horse or a dogge I weene.\n\n  _R. Royster._ Nay, a man's stomacke with a weapon mean I.\n\n  _M.M._ Ten men can scarce match you with a spoon in a pie.\n\n\n\"Gammer Gurton's Needle\" was acted in 1552. It bears marks of an early\ntime in its words being coarsely indelicate, but not amatory. The humour\nis that of blows and insults and we may observe the great value then\nattached to needles. It is \"a right pithy, pleasant and merry comedy\"--a\ncountry story of an old dame who loses her needle when sewing a patch on\nthe seat of her servant Hodge's breeches. The cat's misdoings interrupt\nher, and her needle is lost. The hunt for the needle is amusing, and\nGammer Gurton and Dame Chat, whom she suspects of having stolen it,\nabuse and call each other witches. Hodge, the man with the patched\nbreeches encourages Gammer Gurton, who seems little to require it.\n\n   \"Smite, I say Gammer,\n    Bite, I say Gammer,\n  Where be your nails? Claw her by the jawes\n            Pull me out both her eyen.\n\n  Hoise her, souse her, bounce her, trounce her,\n            Pull out her thrott.\"\n\nOn some one giving Hodge a good slap, the needle runs into him, and is\nthus happily found.\n\nAt the opening of the second act of Gammer Gurton there is a drinking\nsong, which deserves notice as it was the first written in English,--\n\n  \"I cannot eat but little meat\n   My stomack is not good:\n   But sure I think that I can drink\n   With him that wears a hood.\n   Though I go bare, take ye no care\n   I nothing am a colde;\n   I stuff my skin so full within\n   Of ioly good ale and olde.\n   Backe and side go bare, go bare,\n   Booth foot and hand go colde;\n   But belly, God send thee good ale inoughe,\n   Whether it be new or olde;\n\n  \"I love no rost, but a nut browne toste\n   And a crab laid in the fire;\n   A little bread shall do me stead\n   Moche bread I noght desire.\n   No frost, no snow, no wind I trowe\n   Can hurt me if I wolde.\n   I am so wrapt and throwly lapt\n   Of ioly good ale and olde.\n                    Backe and side, &c.\n\n  \"And Tib my wife, that as her life\n   Loveth well good ale to seeke,\n   Full oft drinkes shee, till ye may see\n   The teares run downe her cheeke.\n   Then doth she trowle to me the bowle\n   Even as a mault-worm sholde,\n   And saith 'sweet heart I tooke my part\n   Of this ioly good ale and olde.'\n                    Backe and side, &c.\n\n  \"Now let them drinke, till they nod and winke,\n   Even as good fellows should do;\n   They shall not misse to have the blisse\n   Good ale doth bring men to.\n   And al goode sowles that have scoured bowles,\n   Or have them lustely trolde,\n   God save the lives of them and their wives\n   Whether they be yong or olde.\n                    Backe and side, &c.\"\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER IV.\n\nROBERT GREENE.\n\nRobert Greene--Friar Bacon's Demons--The \"Looking Glasse\"--Nash and\n  Harvey.\n\n\nOne of the principal humorists at this time was Robert Greene, born at\nNorwich about 1560. He was educated at Cambridge, and was generally\nstyled \"Robert Greene, Maister of Artes.\" Early in life he became, as he\ntells us, \"an author of playes and a penner of love pamphlets.\" From the\ntitles of some of them, and from his motto, \"_Omne tulit punctum qui\nmiscuit utile dulci_,\" it is evident that they were intended to be\nhumorous. Thus, his \"Euphues\" professes to contain \"Mirth to purge\nMelancholy;\" his \"Quips for an Vpstart Courtier\" is \"A Quaint Dispute\nbetween Velvet-breeches and Cloth-breeches,\" and his \"Notable Discovery\nof Coosnage\" has \"a delightfull discourse of the coosnage of Colliers;\"\nhis \"Second and last part of conny-catching\" has \"new additions\ncontaining many merry tales of all lawes worth the reading, because they\nare worthy to be remembered. Discoursing strange cunning coosnage, which\nif you reade without laughing, Ile give you my cap for a Noble.\" But in\nall these works there is but little humour, and what we learn in reading\nthem is, that a very small amount of it was then thought considerable,\nand that stories, which we should think slightly entertaining, appeared\nin that simple age to be very ingenious and even comic. In the \"Comicall\nHistorie of Alphonsus, King of Arragon,\" we do not find anything that\ncould have possibly been humorous, unless the speaking of a brazen head,\nand the letting Venus down from Heaven and drawing her up again, could\nhave been so regarded. Greene is characteristic of his time in his love\nof introducing magic and enchanters, and of characters from classic and\nscripture history. In the \"Looking-Glasse for London and England,\" in\nwhich our metropolis is compared to Nineveh, we have angels and\nmagicians brought in. \"A hand out of a cloud threateneth a burning\nsword,\" and \"Jonas is cast out of the whale's belly upon the stage.\"\n\nGreene is fond of introducing devils. In \"The Honourable Historie of\nFrier Bacon and Frier Bongay,\" Ralph says, \"Why, Sirrah Ned we'll ride\nto Oxford to Friar Bacon. O! he is a brave scholar, sirrah; they say he\nis a brave necromancer, that he can make women of devils, and he can\njuggle cats into coster-mongers.\" Further on in the same play a devil\nand Miles, Bacon's servant, enter.\n\n     _Miles._ A scholar, quoth you; marry, Sir, I would I had been a\n     bottle maker, when I was made a scholar, for I can get neither to\n     be a deacon, reader, nor schoolmaster. No, not the clerk of the\n     parish. Some call me dunce, another saith my head is full of Latin,\n     as an egg's full of oatmeal: thus I am tormented that the devil and\n     Friar Bacon haunt me. Good Lord, here's one of my master's devils!\n     I'll go speak to him. What Master Plutus, how cheer you?\n\n     _D._ Dost know me?\n\n     _M._ Know you, Sir? Why are not you one of my master's devils, that\n     were wont to come to my master, Doctor Bacon at Brazen-Nose?\n\n     _D._ Yes, marry am I.\n\n     _M._ Good Lord, Master Plutus, I have seen you a thousand times at\n     my master's; and yet I had never the manners to make you drink.\n     But, Sir, I am glad to see how comformable you are to the statutes.\n     I warrant you he's as yeomanly a man as you shall see; mark you,\n     masters, here's a plain honest man without welt or guard. But I\n     pray you Sir, do you come lately from hell?\n\n     _D._ Ay, marry, how then?\n\n     _M._ Faith, 'tis a place I have desired long to see: have you not\n     good tippling houses there? May not a man have a lusty fire there,\n     a good pot of ale, a pair of cards, a swinging piece of chalk, and\n     a brown toast that will clap a white waistcoat on a cup of good\n     drink.\n\n     _D._ All this you may have there.\n\n     _M._ You are for me, friend, and I am for you. But I pray you, may\n     I not have an office there?\n\n     _D._ Yes, a thousand; what wouldst thou be?\n\n     _M._ By my troth, Sir, in a place where I may profit myself. I know\n     hell is a hot place, and men are marvellous dry, and much drink is\n     spent there. I would be a tapster.\n\nIn one play Greene introduces a court-fool, and he mixes with the\nstupidity and knavery of his clowns, a sort of artificial philosophy\nand argumentative ingenuity, which savours much of the old jesters. In\n\"James the Fourth\" Slipper says:--\n\n     O mistress, mistress, may I turn a word upon you?\n\n     _Countess._ Friend, what wilt thou?\n\n     _Slipper._ O! what a happy gentlewoman be you truly; the world\n     reports this of you, mistress, that a man can no sooner come to\n     your house, but the butler comes with a black-jack, and says,\n     \"Welcome, friend, here's a cup of the best for you,\" verily,\n     mistress, you are said to have the best ale in all Scotland.\n\n     _Countess._ Sirrah, go fetch him drink [_an attendant brings\n     drink._] How likest thou this?\n\n     _Slip._ Like it mistress! why this is quincy quarie, pepper de\n     watchet, single goby, of all that ever I tasted. I'll prove in this\n     ale, and toast the compass of the whole world. First, this is the\n     earth; it ties in the middle a fair brown toast, a goodly country\n     for hungry teeth to dwell upon; next this is the sea, a fair pool\n     for a dry tongue to fish in; now come I, and seeing the world is\n     naught, I divide it thus: and because the sea cannot stand without\n     the earth, as Aristotle saith, I put them both into their first\n     chaos, which is my belly, and so, mistress, you may see your ale is\n     become a miracle.\n\nFurther on Slipper again shows his readiness in dialogue--\n\n     _Sir Bartram._ Ho, fellow! stay and let me speak with thee.\n\n     _Slip._ Fellow! friend thou dost abuse me: I am a gentleman.\n\n     _Sir B._ A gentleman! how so?\n\n     _Slip._ Why, I rub horses, Sir.\n\n     _Sir B._ And what of that?\n\n     _Slip._ O simple-witted! mark my reason. They that do good service\n     in the commonweal are gentlemen, but such as rub horses do good\n     service in the commonweal, _ergo_, tarbox, master courtier, a\n     horse-keeper is a gentleman.\n\n     _Sir B._ Here is over much wit in good earnest. But, sirrah, where\n     is thy master?\n\n     _Slip._ Neither above ground nor under ground; drawing out red into\n     white, swallowing that down without chawing, which was never made\n     without treading.\n\n     _Sir B._ Why, where is he then?\n\n     _Slip._ Why in his cellar, drinking a cup of neat and brisk claret\n     in a bowl of silver. Oh, Sir, the wine runs trillill down his\n     throat, which cost the poor vintner many a stamp before it was\n     made. But I must hence, Sir, I have haste.\n\nSir Bertram intimates that he wants his assistance, and will pay him.\n\n     _Slip._ A good word, thou hast won me; this word is like a warm\n     caudle to a cold stomach.\n\n  _Sir B._ Sirrah, wilt thou for money and reward\n  Convey me certain letters, out of hand,\n  From out thy master's pocket?\n\n     _Slip._ Will I, Sir? Why were it to rob my father, hang my mother,\n     or any such like trifles, I am at your commandment, Sir. What will\n     you give me, Sir?\n\n     _Sir B._ A hundred pounds.\n\n     _Slip._ I am your man; give me earnest. I am dead at a pocket, Sir;\n     why I am a lifter, master, by occupation.\n\n     _Sir B._ A lifter! what is that?\n\n     Slip. Why, Sir, I can lift a pot as well as any man, and pick a\n     purse as soon as any thief in the country.\n\nThese humorous characters remind us a little of the slaves and parasites\nin Roman comedy, of whom, no doubt, Greene had read. His amusing fellows\nare free livers, and fond of wine like himself. In the \"Looking-Glasse\"\nabove mentioned, Nineveh represents London, and a fast being proclaimed,\nwe find Adam, a smith's journeyman, trying to evade it.\n\n     (_Enter Adam solus, with a bottle of beer in one slop (trouser) and\n     a great piece of beef in the other._)\n\n     _Adam._ Well, goodman Jonas, I would you had never come from Jewry\n     to this country; you have made me look like a lean rib of roast\n     beef, or like the picture of Lent, painted upon a red-herring's\n     cob. Alas! masters, we are commanded by the proclamation to fast\n     and pray! By my troth, I could prettily so, so away with praying,\n     but for fasting, why 'tis so contrary to my nature, that I had\n     rather suffer a short hanging than a long fasting. Mark me, the\n     words be these: thou shalt take no manner of food for so many\n     days. I had as lief he should have said, thou shalt hang thyself\n     for so many days. And yet, in faith, I need not find fault with the\n     proclamation, for I have a buttery and a pantry and a kitchen about\n     me; for proof, _ecce signum_! This right slop is my pantry, behold\n     a manchet; this place is my kitchen, for lo! a piece of beef. O!\n     let me repeat that sweet word again!--for lo! a piece of beef. This\n     is my buttery, for see, see, my friends, to my great joy a bottle\n     of beer. Thus, alas! I make shift to wear out this fasting; I drive\n     away the time. But there go searchers about to seek if any man\n     breaks the king's command. O, here they be; in with your victuals,\n     Adam.\n\n     (_Enter two Searchers._)\n\n     _1st Searcher._ How duly the men of Nineveh keep the proclamation!\n     how they are armed to repentance! We have searched through the\n     whole city, and have not as yet found one that breaks the fast.\n\n     _2nd Sear._ The sign of the more grace; but stay, there sits one,\n     methinks at his prayers; let us see who it is.\n\n     _1st Sear._ 'Tis Adam, the smith's man. How, now, Adam?\n\n     _Adam._ Trouble me not; thou shalt take no manner of food, but fast\n     and pray.\n\n     _1st Sear._ How devoutly he sits at his orisons! But stay, methinks\n     I feel a smell of some meat or bread about him.\n\n     _2nd Sear._ So thinks me too. You, Sirrah, what victuals have you\n     about you?\n\n     _Adam._ Victuals! O horrible blasphemy! Hinder me not of my prayer,\n     nor drive me not into a choler. Victuals? why heardest thou not the\n     sentence, thou shalt take no food, but fast and pray?\n\n     _2nd Sear._ Troth, so it should be; but, methinks, I smell meat\n     about thee.\n\n     _Adam._ About me, my friends? these words are actions in the case.\n     About me? no! no! hang those gluttons that cannot fast and pray.\n\n     _1st Sear._ Well, for all your words we must search you.\n\n     _Adam._ Search me? take heed what you do! my hose are my castles;\n     'tis burglary if you break ope a slop; no officer must lift up an\n     iron hatch; take heed, my slops are iron.\n\n     _2nd Sear._ O, villain! See how he hath gotten victuals--bread,\n     beef and beer, where the king commanded upon pain of death none\n     should eat for so many days, not the sucking infant.\n\n     _Adam._ Alas! Sir, this is nothing but a _modicum non nocet ut\n     medicus daret_; why, Sir, a bit to comfort my stomach.\n\n     _1st Sear._ Villain! thou shalt be hanged for it.\n\n     _Adam._ These are your words, I shall be hanged for it; but first\n     answer me this question, how many days have we to fast still?\n\n     _2nd Sear._ Five days.\n\n     _Adam._ Five days! a long time; then I must be hanged.\n\n     _1st Sear._ Ay, marry must thou.\n\n     _Adam._ I am your man, I am for you, Sir, for I had rather be\n     hanged than abide so long a fast. What! five days! Come, I'll\n     untruss. Is your halter, and the gallows, the ladder, and all such\n     furniture in readiness.\n\n     _1st Sear._ I warrant thee thou shalt want none of these.\n\n     _Adam._ But hear you, must I be hanged?\n\n     _1st Sear._ Ay, marry.\n\n     _Adam._ And for eating of meat. Then, friends, know ye by these\n     presents, I will eat up all my meat, and drink up all my drink, for\n     it shall never be said, I was hanged with an empty stomach.\n\nIt has been supposed that Greene was very indelicate in his language, as\nwell as reckless in his life. But we cannot find in his plays anything\nvery offensive, considering the date at which he wrote, and in the tract\ncalled \"Greene's Funeralls,\" we read:--\n\n   His gadding Muse, although it ran of love,\n   Yet did he sweetly morralize his song;\n   Ne ever gaue the looser cause to laugh\n   Ne men of judgement for to be offended.\n\nGreene died in \"most woefull and rascall estate\" at the house of a poor\nshoemaker near Dowgate. He had previously written his \"Groat's-worth of\nWit bought with a Million of Repentance;\" in which he warns his former\ncompanions and \"gentlemen who spend their wits in making playes,\" to\ntake warning by his fate. He could get none of his friends to visit him\nat the last but Mistress Appleby, and the mother of \"his base sonne\nInfortunatus Greene.\" He gave the following note for his wife--whom he\nhad not seen for six years--to the shoemaker:\n\n\"Doll, I charge thee by the love of our youth, and by my soule's rest,\nthat thow wilte see this man paide; for if hee and his wife had not\nsuccoured me, I had died in the streetes.\n\n                            \"ROBERT GREENE.\"\n\n\nGabriel Harvey writes, \"My next businesse was to inquire after the\nfamous author who was reported to lye dangerously sicke in a shop neere\nDowgate, not of plague, but of a surfett of pickle herringe and rennish\nwine.\"\n\nThomas Nash was one of Greene's jolly companions at this fatal banquet.\nAfter Greene's death Harvey replied to some reflections made upon him by\nGreene, and called him in accordance with the amenities of the times, \"a\nwilde head, ful of mad braine and a thousand crotchets; a scholler, a\ndiscourser, a courtier, a ruffian, a gamester, a lover, a souldier, a\ntrauailer, a merchant, a broker, an artificer, a botcher, a pettifogger,\na player, a coosener, a rayler, a beggar, an omnium-gatherum, a\ngay-nothing, a stoare-house of bald and baggage stuffe, unworth the\nanswering or reading, a triuall and triobular autor for knaves and\nfooles,\" &c., &c.\n\nNash, although he seems to have forsaken Greene in his last distress,\nbecame the defender of his character after his death, and answered this\nvituperation by still coarser abuse and invective, saying, \"Had hee\nlived, Gabriel, and thou shouldest vnartifically and odiously libel\nagainst him as thou hast done, he would have made thee an example of\nignominy to all ages that are to come, and driven thee to eate thy owne\nbooke buttered, as I saw him make an Appariter once in a tavern eate his\nCitation, waxe and all, very handsomely served 'twixt two dishes.'\"\n\nFrom this he proceeds to caricature Gabriel's person. \"That word\ncomplexion is dropt forth in good time, for to describe to you his\ncomplexion and composition entred I with this tale by the way. It is of\nan adust swarth chollericke dye, like restie bacon, or a dried\nscate-fish; so leane and so meagre, that you wold thinke (with the\nTurks) he observed 4 Lents in a yere, or take him for a gentleman's man\nin the courtier, who was so thin-cheeked, and gaunt, and starv'd, that\nas he was blowing the fire with his mouth the smoke took him up like a\nlight strawe, and carried him to the top or funnell of the chimney, wher\nhe had flowne out God knowes whither if there had not been crosse barres\noverthwart that stayde him; his skin riddled and crumpled like a piece\nof burnt parchment; and more channels and creases he hath in his face\nthan there be fairie circles on Salsburie Plaine, and wrinckles and\nfrets of old age, than characters on Christ's sepulcher in Mount\nCalvarie, on which euerie one that comes scrapes his name, and sets his\nmarke to shewe that hee hath been there; so that whosoever shall behold\nhim\n\n     \"Esse putet Boreae triste furentis opus,\"\n\nwill sweare on a book I have brought him lowe, and shrowdly broken him;\nwhich more to confirme, look on his head, and you shall find a gray\nhaire for euery line I have writ against him; and you shall have all his\nbeard white too, by that time he hath read over this booke. For his\nstature, he is such another pretie Jacke-a-Lent as boyes throw at in the\nstreete, and lookes in his blacke sute of veluet, like one of these\njet-droppes which divers weare at their eares instead of a iewell. A\nsmudge peice of a handsome fellow it hath been in his dayes, but now he\nis olde and past his best, and fit for nothing but to be a nobleman's\nporter, or a knight of Windsor.\"\n\nNash was so full of invective and personal abuse that he scarcely\ndeserved the name of a satirist, and so great was the animosity with\nwhich the quarrel between him and Gabriel Harvey was conducted, that the\nArchbishop of Canterbury and Bishop of London issued an order in 1599\nthat all such books \"be taken wheresoever they be found, and that none\nof the said books be ever printed hereafter.\"\n\nHis humour was remarkable, as it largely consisted of coining long and\nalmost unintelligible words. This he laid great store by, and he speaks\nwrathfully of one who translated his \"Piers Penniless,\" into what he\ncalls \"maccaronical language.\" In his \"Lenten Stuffe or Praise of the\nRed Herring,\" _i.e._, of Great Yarmouth, he calls those who despised\nHomer in his life-time \"dull-pated pennifathers,\" and says that \"those\ngrey-beard huddle-duddles and crusty cum-twangs were strooke with\nstinging remorse of their miserable euchonisme and sundgery.\"\n\nPeele was one of the gay play-writers to whom Greene addressed his\nwarning. They seem at this time to have united the professions of\ndramatist and actor, and to have been infected with that dissipation\nwhich has since been attributed with more or less justice to the stage.\nPeele is as fond as Greene of surprises and miraculous interventions. In\nthe \"Arraignment of Paris\" a golden tree grows up, and in the \"Old Wives\nTale,\" the most humorous of his works, the head of Huanebango rises from\na well. He is fond of dealing in phonetic words Latinisms and\nbarbarisms; in one place he makes Corebus say:\n\n  \"O _falsum Latinum_\n   The fair maid is _minum_\n   _Cum apurtinantibus gibletis_ and all.\"\n\nPeele was very popular in his day, and was often called upon to write\npieces for the Lord Mayor and for royal receptions. He sometimes used\nHexameter lines such as:\n\n  \"Dub, dub-a-dub bounce, quoth the guns with\n                 a sulphurous huff shuff.\"\n\nGabriel Harvey first introduced this metre into English, and he tried to\ninduce Spenser to adopt it. Nash calls it \"that drunken staggering kind\nof verse which is all vp hill and downe hill, like the way betwixt\nStamford and Beechfeild, and goes like a horse plunging through the mire\nin the deep of winter, now soust vp to the saddle and straight aloft on\nhis tip-toes.\"\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER V.\n\nDonne--Hall--Fuller.\n\n\nAlready we have seen that some of our earliest humorists were\necclesiastics, and it would be unfitting that we should here overlook\nthree eminent men, Donne, Hall, and Fuller. Pleasantry was with them\nlittle more than a vehicle of instruction; the object was not to\nentertain, but to enforce and illustrate their moral sentiments. Hence\ntheir sober quaintness never raises a laugh, much less does it border\nupon the profane or indelicate.\n\nDonne was born in 1573, in London, and was educated, as was not then\nuncommon, first at Oxford, and then at Cambridge. His ability in church\ncontroversy attracted the attention of James, and he was made chaplain\nto the King. He became preacher at Lincoln's Inn, and afterwards was\nmade Dean of St. Paul's. He lived to be fifty-eight.\n\nHis sermons are full of antitheses and epigrammatic diction. There is\nan airy lightness in his letters and poems, but he scarcely ever\nactually reaches humour. The following poem, an epistle to Sir Edmund\nHerbert at Juliers, will give an idea of his style.\n\n  \"Man is a lump, where all beasts kneaded be,\n   Wisdom makes him an ark where all agree;\n   The fool in whom these beasts do live at jar,\n   Is sport to others, and a theatre.\n   Nor scapes he so, but is himself their prey,\n   All which was man in him is eat away,\n   And now his beasts on one another feed,\n   Yet couple in anger, and new monsters breed.\n   How happy's he, which hath due place assigned\n   To his beasts, and disaforested his mind!\n   Empaled himself to keep them out, not in,\n   Can sow, and dares trust corn where they've been;\n   Can use his horse, goat, wolf, and every beast,\n   And is not ass himself to all the rest.\"\n\nBishop Hall was born in 1574, and commenced his extensive literary\nlabours by writing when twenty-three years of age, at Emmanuel College,\nCambridge, three books of satires called Virgidemiae. These books he\ncalls \"_Toothless_ Satyres, _poetical_, _academical_, _and moral_,\" and\nhe attacks bad writers, astrologers, drunkards, gallants, and others.\nAlluding to the superabundance of indifferent poetry in his days, he\nsays:--\n\n  \"Let them, that mean by bookish business\n   To earn their bread, or holpen to profess\n   Their hard-got skill, let them alone for me\n   Busy their brains with deeper bookery.\n   Great gains shall bide you sure, when ye have spent\n   A thousand lamps, and thousand reams have rent\n   Of needless papers; and a thousand nights\n   Have burned out with costly candle-lights.\"\n\nIn the following year, he produced three books of \"Byting Satyres.\" In\nthese he laughs at the effeminacy of the times--the strange dresses and\nhigh heels.\n\n  \"When comely striplings wish it were their chance\n   For Caenis' distaff to exchange their lance,\n   And wear curled periwigs, and chalk their face\n   And still are poring on their pocket-glass;\n   Tired with pinned ruffs and fans and partlet strips\n   And busks and verdingales about their hips;\n   And tread on corked stilts, a prisoner's pace,\n   And make their napkin for a spitting place,\n   And gripe their waist within a narrow span,\n   Fond Caenis that wouldst wish to be a man!\"\n\nThe most severe is against the Pope:--\n\n  \"To see an old shorn lozel perched high\n   Crossing beneath a golden canopy;\n   The whiles a thousand hairless crowns crouch low\n   To kiss the precious case of his proud toe;\n   And for the lordly fasces borne of old\n   To see two quiet crossed keys of gold;\n   But that he most would gaze and wonder at\n   To the horned mitre and the bloody hat,\n   The crooked staff, the cowl's strange form and store\n   Save that he saw the same in hell before;\n   To see the broken nuns, with new shorn heads\n   In a blind cloister toss their idle heads.\"\n\nAlthough Bishop Hall wrote learnedly and voluminously on theological\nsubjects, this light medley is now more esteemed than his graver works.\nHe claimed upon the strength of it to be the earliest English satirist,\nand perhaps none of our writings of this kind had as yet been of equal\nimportance. The work was one of those condemned to the flames by\nWhitgift and Bancroft.\n\nFuller was born in Northamptonshire, in 1608. He became a distinguished\nman at Cambridge, where he obtained a fellowship at Sidney Sussex\nCollege. He was also an eminent preacher in London, and a prebendary of\nSalisbury. In the Civil War, being a stanch Royalist, he was driven from\nplace to place, and held at one time the interesting post of \"Infant\nLady's Chaplain\" to the Princess Henrietta. In his \"Worthies of\nEngland,\" Fuller not only enumerates the eminent men for which each\ncountry is distinguished, but gives an account of its products and\nproverbs. \"A Proverb is much matter decocted into few words. Six\nessentials are wanting to it--that it be short, plain, common,\nfigurative, ancient, true.\" The most ordinary subject is enlivened by\nhis learned and humorous mind. Thus, in Bedfordshire, under the head of\n\"Larks,\" he tells us, \"The most and best of these are caught and\nwell-dressed about Dunstable in this shire. A harmless bird while\nliving, not trespassing on grain, and wholesome when dead, then filling\nthe stomach with meat, as formerly the ear with music. In winter they\nfly in flocks, probably the reason why _Alauda_ signifieth in Latin both\na lark and a legion of soldiers; except any will say a legion is so\ncalled because helmeted on their heads and crested like a lark,\ntherefore also called in Latin _Galerita_. If men would imitate the\nearly rising of this bird, it would conduce much unto their\nhealthfulness.\"\n\nFuller abounds with figures and illustrations in which learning and\nhumour are excellently intermingled. \"They that marry where they do not\nlove, will love where they do not marry.\" \"He knows little, who will\ntell his wife all he knows.\" Speaking of children, he says that a man\ncomplained that never father had so undutiful a child as he. \"Yes,\" said\nthe son, \"my grandfather had.\" Alluding to servants, and saying that the\nEmperor Charles the Fifth being caught in a tempest had many horses\nthrown overboard to save the lives of the slaves--which were not of so\ngreat market-value--he asks, \"Are there not many that in such a case had\nrather save Jack the horse than Jockey the keeper?\" Of widows' evil\nspeaking he observes, \"Foolish is their project who, by raking up bad\nsavours against their former husbands, think thereby to perfume their\nbed for a second marriage.\" Of celibacy he says, \"If Christians be\nforced to run races for their lives, the unmarried have the advantage of\nbeing lighter by many ounces!\"\n\nSpeaking of the \"Controversial Divine,\" he says, \"What? make the Muses,\nyea the Graces scolds? Such purulent spittle argues exulcerated lungs.\nWhy should there be so much railing about the body of Christ, when there\nwas none about the body of Moses in the act kept betwixt the devil and\nMichael, the Archangel?\" On schoolmasters he wrote, \"That schoolmaster\ndeserves to be beaten himself, who beats Nature in a boy for a fault.\nAnd I question whether all the whipping in the world can make their\nparts, that are naturally sluggish, rise one minute before the hour\nNature hath appointed.\"\n\nThe following are some good sayings that have been selected from his\nworks by an eminent humorist:--\n\n     _Virtue in a short person._ \"His soul had but a short diocese to\n     visit, and therefore might the better attend the effectual\n     informing thereof.\"\n\n     _Intellect in a very tall one._ \"Oft times such, who are built four\n     storeys high, are observed to have little in their cock-loft.\"\n\n     _Mr. Perkins, the Divine._ \"He would pronounce the word Damn with\n     such an emphasis, as left a doleful echo in his auditor's ears a\n     good while after.\"\n\n     _Memory._ \"Philosophers place it in the rear of the head; and it\n     seems the mine of memory lies there, because men there naturally\n     dig for it, scratching it when they are at a loss.\"\n\nTo this we may add something from his \"Holy State,\"--a pleasant and\nprofitable work, in which Fuller is happy in making his humour subserve\nthe best ends:--Of \"The Good Wife,\" he says, \"She never crosseth her\nhusband in the spring-tide of his anger, but stays till it be\nebbing-water. And then mildly she argues the matter, not so much to\ncondemn him as to acquit herself. Surely men, contrary to iron, are\nworst to be wrought upon when they are hot, and are far more tractable\nin cold blood. It is an observation of seamen, 'That if a single meteor\nor fire-ball falls on their mast, it portends ill-luck; but if two come\ntogether (which they count Castor and Pollux) they presage good\nsuccess.' But sure in a family it bodeth most bad when two fire balls\n(husband's and wife's anger) both come together.\" In speaking of good\nparents, he says, \"A father that whipt his son for swearing, and swore\nat him while he whipt him, did more harm by his example than good by his\ncorrection.\"\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER VI.\n\nShakespeare--Ben Jonson--Beaumont and Fletcher--The Wise Men of Gotham.\n\n\nGreene, in his admonition to his brother sinners of the stage, tells\nthem that \"there is an vpstart crow beautified with our feathers an\nabsolute Johannes factotum, in his own conceyt the onely Shake-scene in\na countrey,\" and in truth these olden writers are principally\ninteresting as having laid the foundations upon which Shakespeare built\nsome of his earliest plays. The genius of our great dramatist was\nessentially poetic, and some of his plays, which we now call comedies,\nwere originally entitled \"histories.\" How seldom do we hear any of his\nhumorous passages quoted, or find them reckoned among our household\nwords! From some of his observations we might think he was altogether\naverse from jocosity. Henry V. says\n\n     \"How ill gray hairs become a fool--a jester!\"\n\nIn \"Much ado about Nothing,\" Beatrice speaks as follows--\n\n     \"Why, he is the Prince's jester; a very dull fool, only his gift is\n     in devising unprofitable slanders; none but libertines delight in\n     him, and the commendation is not in his wit, but in his villany,\n     for he both pleases men and angers them, and then they laugh at him\n     and beat him.\"\n\nBut notwithstanding all this condemnation Beatrice is herself the\nliveliest character in Shakespeare, and her lady's wit is some of the\nbest he shows--\n\n     _Beatrice._ For hear me, Hero; wooing, wedding, and repenting is as\n     a Scotch jig, a measure and a cinque-pace; the first suit is hot\n     and hasty, like a Scotch jig, and full as fantastical; the wedding\n     mannerly-modest, as a measure full of state and ancientry; and then\n     comes repentance, and with his bad legs, falls into the cinque-pace\n     faster and faster, till he sinks into his grave.\n\n     _Leonato._ Cousin, you apprehend shrewdly.\n\n     _Beat._ I have a good eye, uncle; I can see a church, by daylight.\n\nIn the \"Merchant of Venice\" Lorenzo thus answers Launcelot--\n\n     \"How every fool can play upon the word. I think the best grace of\n     wit will shortly turn into silence, and discourse grow commendable\n     in none but parrots.\"\n\nAgain Lorenzo--\n\n  \"Oh, dear discretion, how his words are suited,\n   The fool hath planted in his memory\n   An army of good words: And I do know\n   A many fools that stand in better place\n   Garnished like him, that for a tricksie word\n   Defie the matter.\"\n\nComedians from Aristophanes downwards have been wont to complain in one\nplace of that which they adopt in another--their object not being to\nadopt fixed principles so much as to show the varying shades of human\nthought. Shakespeare required something light to bring his deep\nreflections into bolder relief, and therefore frequently had recourse to\nhumour. We are not surprised that he had no very high estimate of it,\nwhen we find him so much dependant upon \"the alms-basket of words.\"\nThere is so much of this in his plays, that it is almost superfluous to\nquote, but a few instances may be taken at random. Falstaff to Poins--\n\n     \"You are straight enough in the shoulders; you care not who sees\n     your back--call you that backing your friends? A plague upon such\n     backing; give me a man who will face me.\"\n\nFalstaff to Prince Henry. Act I. Scene II.\n\n     I prythee, sweet wag, when thou art king, as God save thy\n     grace--majesty, I should say, for grace thou wilt have none--\n\n     _P. Hen._ What! none?\n\n     _Fal._ No, by my troth; not so much as will serve to be prologue to\n     an egg and butter.\n\nIn Love's Labour Lost. Act I. Scene II.\n\n     _Armado._ Comfort me, boy. What great men have been in love?\n\n     _Inoth._ Hercules, master.\n\n     _Arm._ Most sweet Hercules! More authority, dear boy, name more;\n     and, sweet my child, let them be men of good repute and carriage.\n\n     _Inoth._ Samson, master; he was a man of good carriage, for he\n     raised the town gates on his back like a porter, and he was in\n     love.\n\nIn the musicians scene, in Romeo and Juliet, Act IV. Scene V. we find--\n\n     _Musician._ Pray you put up your dagger, and put out your wit.\n\n     _Peter._ Then have at you with my wit. I will dry beat you with my\n     iron wit, and put up my iron dagger. Answer me like:\n\n  When griping grief the heart doth wound,\n  And doleful dumps the mind oppress,\n  Then music with her silver sound--\n\n     Why _silver_ sound? Why music with her silver sound? What say you,\n     Simon Catling?\n\n     _First Mins._ Marry, Sir, because silver hath a sweet sound.\n\n     _Peter._ Pretty. What say you, Hugh Rebeck?\n\n     _Sec. Mins._ I say \"silver sound,\" because musicians sound for\n     silver.\n\n     _Peter._ Pretty, too! What say you, James Soundpost?\n\n     _Third Mins._ Faith! I know not what to say.\n\n     _Peter._ O! I cry for mercy; you are the singer; I will say for\n     you. It is music with her silver sound, because musicians have no\n     gold for sounding.\n\nWe may here observe that the puns of Shakespeare are never of the\n\"atrocious\" class; there is always something to back them up, and give\nthem a shadow of probability. The tournaments of humour which he is fond\nof introducing, although good in effect upon the stage, are not\nfavourable for any keen wit. Such conflicts must be kept up by artifice,\ncannot flow from natural suggestion, and degenerate into a mere\nsplintering of words. One cause of the absence of \"salt\" in his writings\nis that he was not of a censorious or cynical spirit; another was that\nhis turn of mind was rather sentimental than gay. Shakespeare evidently\nknew there might be humour among men of attainments, for he writes,--\n\n  \"None are so surely caught, when they are catched,\n   As wit turned fool; folly is wisdom hatched,\n   Hath wisdom's warrant and the help of school\n   And wits' own grace to grace a learned fool.\"\n\nBut with him, those who indulge in it are clowns, simpletons, and\nprofligates. Few of his grand characters are witty. Perhaps he was\nconscious of the great difficulty there would be in finding suitable\nsayings for them. Indelicacy and hostility would have to be alike\navoided, and thus when the sage Gonzalo is to be amusing, he sketches a\nUtopian state of things, which he would introduce were he King of the\nisland on which they are cast. He would surpass the golden age.\nSebastian and Antonio laugh at him, and cry \"God save the King,\" Alonzo\nreplies \"Prythee, no more, thou dost talk nothing (_i.e._ nonsense) to\nme.\" Gonzalo replies that he did so purposely \"to minister occasion to\nthose gentlemen, who are of such sensible and nimble lungs that they\nalways use to laugh at nothing.\" They retort that they were not laughing\nat his humour, but at himself. \"Who,\" he replies, \"in this merry fooling\nam nothing to you\" meaning, apparently, that he is acting the fool\nintentionally and out of his real character.\n\nHamlet, when his mind is distraught, \"like sweet bells jangled,\" is\nallowed to indulge in a little punning, and Biron is humorous, for which\nhe is reproached by Rosalind, who tells him that he is one\n\n  \"Whose influence is begot of that loose grace\n   Which shallow laughing hearers give to fools;\"\n\nthat only silly thoughtless people admire wit, and that\n\n  \"A jest's prosperity lies in the ear\n   Of him that hears it--never in the tongue\n   Of him that makes it.\"\n\nHere the variable character of humour is recognised, but it is not to be\nsupposed that Rosalind's arguments were intended to be strictly correct.\nVery much must depend upon the form in which a jest is produced, and\nwithout the tongue of the utterer, it cannot exist though the sympathy\nof the listener is required for its appreciation.\n\nIn Shakespeare's plays, and in most comedies we find humour in the\nrepresentation of ludicrous characters. Words, which would be dull\nenough in ordinary cases, become highly amusing when coming from men of\npeculiar views. Sometimes people are represented as perpetually riding\ntheir hobby, or harping on one favourite subject. We have an instance of\nthis in Holophernes and his pedantry; and the conversation between the\ntwo gravediggers in Hamlet, is largely indebted for its relish to the\ncontrast between the language of the men and their occupation. In the\nsame way, the ignorance and misrepresentations of rustics in play\nacting, which Shakespeare had probably often observed in the\nprovinces--gives zest to the exaggerated caricature in \"Midsummer\nNight's Dream.\"--\n\n     _Bottom._ There are things in this comedy of Pyramus and Thisbe\n     that will never please. First, Pyramus must draw a sword to kill\n     himself, which ladies cannot abide. How answer you that?\n\n     _Snout._ By'r lakin a parlous fear.\n\n     _Starveling._ I believe we must leave the killing out, when all is\n     done.\n\n     _Bottom._ Not a whit. I have a device to make all well. Write me a\n     prologue, and let the prologue seem to say, we will not do harm\n     with our swords, and that Pyramus is not killed indeed; and for the\n     more better assurance, tell them that I, Pyramus, am not Pyramus,\n     but Bottom the weaver; this will put them out of fear.\n\n            *       *       *       *       *\n\n     _Snout._ Will not the ladies be afeard of the lion?\n\n     _Sta._ I fear it, I promise you.\n\n     _Bottom._ Masters, you ought to consider with yourselves to bring\n     in--God shield us! a lion among ladies is a most dreadful thing;\n     for there is not a more fearful wildfowl than your lion living, and\n     we ought to look to it.\n\n     _Snout._ Therefore another prologue must tell, he is not a lion.\n\n     _Bottom._ Nay, you must name his name, and half his face must be\n     seen through the lion's neck; and he must himself speak through,\n     saying thus, or to the same effect--\"Ladies,\" or \"Fair ladies, I\n     would wish you,\" or \"I would request you,\" or \"I would entreat you\n     not to fear, nor to tremble: my life for yours. If you think I come\n     hither as a lion, it were pity of my life: no, I am no such thing.\n     I am a man as other men are,\" and there then let him name his name\n     and tell them plainly he is Snug the joiner.\n\nWhen the play comes on for performance and Snug the joiner roars \"like\nany sucking dove,\" the Duke Theseus remarks--\n\n     A very gentle beast, and of a good conscience.\n\n     _Demetrius._ The very best as a beast, my lord, that e'er I saw.\n\n     _Lysander._ This lion is a very fox for his valour.\n\n     _Theseus._ True, and a goose for his discretion.\n\n     _Demetrius._ Not so, my lord, for his valour cannot carry his\n     discretion, and the fox carries the goose.\n\n     _Theseus._ His discretion, I am sure, cannot carry his valour, for\n     the goose carries not the fox.\n\nThe enigmas and logical quibbles, which he occasionally intermingles\nwith his verbal conceits, remind us of the old philosophic paradoxes.\nSometimes a riddle is attempted; thus, he asks--\"What was a month old at\nCain's birth, that's not five weeks old now?\" Answer--\"The Moon.\"\n\nTaken generally, there is such a remarkable uniformity in Shakespeare's\nhumour as must acquit him of all charge of plagiarism in this respect,\nand may go some way towards proving the general originality of his\nplays. Certainly, verbal conceits were then in high favour, and the\ncharacter of Shakespeare's humour is only one of many proofs that\npleasantry had not at this time reached its highest excellence.\n\nTo Shakespeare's kindness and discretion Ben Jonson owed his first\nintroduction to dramatic fame. The young poet had presented \"Every Man\nin his Humour,\" to one of the leading players of the company to which\nShakespeare belonged, and the comedian upon reading it, determined to\nrefuse it. Jonson's fate was trembling in the balance; he was a\nstruggling man, and, had he been unsuccessful, might have eventually,\nreturned to his bricklayer's work, but he was destined to be raised up\nfor his own benefit and that of others. Shakespeare was present when his\nplay was about to be rejected, asked to be allowed to look over it, and,\nat once recognising the poet's talent, recommended it to his companions.\nFrom that moment Jonson's career was secured. But he was never destined\nto acquire the lasting fame of Shakespeare. With him the stream of\nComedy was losing its deep and strong reflections, and beginning to flow\nin a swifter and shallower current, meandering through labyrinths of\ncourt and city life. Perhaps, also, his large amount of humorous\nillustration, which must have been mostly ephemeral, tended to cut short\nhis fame. The best of it is interwoven with his several designs and\nplots, as where, in \"The Alchemist,\" a gentleman leaves his house in\ntown, and his housekeeper fills it with fortune-tellers vagabonds, who\ncarry on their trade there; and in \"The Fox\" a rich and childless man is\ncourted by his friends, from whom he obtains presents under the pretence\nthat he will leave them his property. In this last play a parasite is\nintroduced, and in general these plays abound with classical allusions,\nsometimes very incongruously intermixed with modern concerns. An\nindiscriminating admiration of ancient literature and art was as much\none of the features of the day, as was its crude humour--a cleverness\njoined to folly and attributed to boobies and simpletons. Much of this\njocosity scarcely deserves the name of humour, and we may remark that in\nJonson's time it did not receive it. With him humour is thus defined--\n\n  \"To be a quality of air or water,\n   And in itself holds these two properties,\n   Moisture and fluxure.... Now thus far\n   It may by metaphor apply itself\n   Unto the general disposition:\n   As when some one peculiar quality\n   Doth so possess a man, that it doth draw\n   All his affects, his spirits, and his power.\"\n\nThe social peculiarities of the day are frequently alluded to by Jonson.\nIn \"Every Man out of his own Humour,\" we have complete directions for\nthe conduct of a gentleman of the time. Smoking, then lately introduced,\nis especially mentioned as one of the necessities of foppery. Cob, a\nwater-bearer says, \"Ods me, I marle what pleasure or felicity they have\nin taking this roguish tobacco. It's good for nothing but to choke a\nman, and fill him full of smoke and embers: there were four died out of\none house last week with taking of it, and two more the bell went for\nyesternight; one of them they say will never 'scape it: he cast up a\nbushel of soot yesterday.\"\n\nIn Cynthia's Revels a courtier is thus described--\n\n\"He walks most commonly with a clove or toothpick in his mouth: he is\nthe very mint of compliment, all his behaviours are pointed: his face is\nanother volume of essays, and his beard is Aristarchus. He speaks all\ncream skimmed, and more affected than a dozen waiting women. The other\ngallant is his zany, and doth most of these tricks after him, sweats to\nimitate him in everything to a hair, except his beard, which is not yet\nextant.\"\n\nBut the stamp of the age is especially prominent in the constant\nrecurrence of verbal conceits. Jonson was fond of coining words, and of\nusing such as are long and little known. He evidently found this a\nsuccessful kind of humour, and may have partly imitated Plautus--\n\nLady Politick Would-be, to Volpone, supposed sick--\n\n  Seed pearl were good now, boiled with syrup of apples,\n  Tincture of gold, and coral, citron pills,\n  Your elicampane root, myrobalanes--\n\n     _Volpone (tired with her talk)_ Ah me! I have ta'en a grasshopper\n     by the wing.\n\nIn \"The Alchemist\" Subtle says to Face,\n\n     Sirrah my varlet, stand you forth and speak to him\n     Like a philosopher: answer in the language,\n     Name the vexations and the martyrizations\n     Of metals in the work.\n\n     Face. Sir, putrefaction,\n     Solution, ablution, sublimation,\n     Cohabation, calcination, ceration and\n     Fixation.\n\nFrom \"Every Man out of his Humour.\"\n\n     _Macilente._ Pork! heart! what dost thou with such a greasy dish? I\n     think thou dost varnish thy face with the fat on't, it looks so\n     like a glue-pot.\n\n     _Carlo._ True, my raw-boned rogue, and if thou wouldst farce thy\n     lean ribs with it too, they would not like rugged laths, rub out so\n     many doublets as they do; but thou knowest not a good dish thou. No\n     marvel though, that saucy stubborn generation, the Jews, were\n     forbidden it, for what would they have done, well pampered with fat\n     pork, that durst murmur at their Maker out of garlick and onions?\n     'Slight! fed with it--the strummel-patched, goggle-eyed,\n     grumbledones would have gigantomachized.--\n\nThe following extracts will give a slight idea of Ben Jonson's varied\ntalent. At the conclusion of a play directed against plagiarists and\nlibellers, he sums up--\n\n  \"Blush, folly, blush! here's none that fears\n   The wagging of an ass's ears,\n   Although a wolfish case he wears.\n   Detraction is but baseness varlet\n   And apes are apes, though clothed in scarlet.\"\n\nFrom \"The Alchemist.\"\n\n\n     _Tribulation._ What makes the devil so devilish, I would ask you.\n     Sathan our common enemy, but his being\n     Perpetually about the fire, and boiling\n     Brimstone and arsenic?...\n\n     _Fastidious._ How like you her wit.\n\n     _Macilente._ Her ingenuity is excellent, Sir.\n\n     _Fast._ You see the subject of her sweet fingers there (_the viol_)\n     oh, she tickles it so that--she makes it laugh most divinely--I'll\n     tell you a good jest just now, and yourself shall say it's a good\n     one. I have wished myself to be that instrument, I think a thousand\n     times, and not so few by heaven.\n\nThe two following are from \"Bartholomew Fair.\"\n\n     _Littlewit._ I envy no man my delicates, Sir.\n\n     _Winwife._ Alas, you have the garden where they grow still. A wife\n     here with a strawberry breath, cherry lips, apricot cheeks, and a\n     soft velvet head like a melicotton.\n\n     _Lit._ Good i' faith! now dulness upon us, that I had not that\n     before him, that I should not light on't as well as he! Velvet\n     head!...\n\n     _Knockem._ Sir, I will take your counsel, and cut my hair, and\n     leave vapours. I see that tobacco and bottle ale, and pig and whit,\n     and very Ursula herself is all vanity.\n\n     _Busy._ Only pig was not comprehended in my admonition--the rest\n     were: for long hair, it is an ensign of pride, a banner: and the\n     world is full of those banners--very full of banners. And bottle\n     ale is a drink of Satan's, a diet-drink of Satan's devised to puff\n     us up, and make us swell in this latter age of vanity; as the smoke\n     of tobacco to keep us in mist and error: but the fleshly woman,\n     which you call Ursula, is above all to be avoided, having the marks\n     upon her of the three enemies of man--the world, as being in the\n     Fair, the Devil, as being in the fire;[53] and the flesh as being\n     herself.\n\nBen Jonson has a strange, and I believe original conceit of introducing\npersons to explain their plays, and make remarks on the characters.\nSometimes many interruptions of this kind occur in the course of a\ndrama, affording variety and amusement to the audience, or the reader.\nIn \"Midsummer's Night's Dream\" we have the insertion of a play within a\nplay. The following taken from Jonson's epigrams have fine complexity,\nand show a certain tinge of humour.\n\n\n  THE HOUR GLASS.\n\n  \"Consider this small dust here in the glass,\n          By atoms moved:\n   Could you believe that this the body was\n          Of one that loved;\n   And in his mistress' flame, playing like a fly,\n   Was turned to cinders by her eye:\n   Yes; and in death as like unblest,\n          To have't exprest,\n   Ev'n ashes of lovers find no rest.\"\n\n\n  MY PICTURE.--LEFT IN SCOTLAND.\n\n  I now think Love is rather deaf than blind,\n  For else it could not be\n      That she,\n  Whom I adore so much, should so slight me,\n  And cast my suit behind;\n  I'm sure my language to her was as sweet,\n  And every close did meet\n  In sentence of as subtle feet,\n  As hath the youngest, he,\n  That sits in shadow of Apollo's tree.\n  Oh! but my conscious fears\n  That fly my thoughts between\n  Tell me that she hath seen\n  My hundreds of gray hairs,\n  Told seven and forty years,\n  Read so much waste, as she cannot embrace\n  My mountain belly, and my rocky face,\n  And all these through her eyes have stopt her ears.\n\nAlthough fond of indulging in strong language, Jonson is scarcely ever\nguilty of any really coarse allusion--he expresses his aversion from\nanything of the kind, and this in the age in which he lived, argued\ngreat refinement of feeling.\n\nIn Fletcher we mark a progress in humour. Ben Jonson was so personal\nthat he made enemies, and was suspected of attacking Inigo Jones and\nothers, but Fletcher was general in his references, and merely ridiculed\nthe manners of the age. The classic element disappears, and quibbling\nand playing with words--so fashionable in Shakespeare's time--is not\nfound in this author, whose humour has more point, and generally more\nsarcasm, but of a refined character.\n\nThe name of Fletcher is invariably connected with Beaumont. The two\nyoung men lived together in the same house, and it is even said wore\neach other's clothes. But Beaumont only lived to be twenty-nine, and has\nleft little in comparison with the voluminous works of Fletcher. They\nwere both born in a good position, and, mingling in the fashionable\nsociety of their day, filled their pages with love intrigues, in colours\nnot then offensive. Fletcher never married, and those who look for\ncontrasts between fathers and children may learn that his father, who\nwas Bishop of London, was suspended by Elizabeth for taking a second\nwife. Our author is said to have been himself a comedy, and his death,\nif we can believe the story, was consistent with his gay life, for we\nare told that, through waiting in London for a new suit of clothes, he\ndied of cholera, which was raging there at the time.\n\nHere is a specimen of his sketches--the character of a rich usurer--\n\n  _Sanchio._ Thou'art very brave.\n\n  _Cacafogo._ I've reason; I have money.\n\n  _San._ Is money reason?\n\n  _Cac._ Yes, and rhyme too, captain.\n  If you've no money you're an ass.\n\n  _San._ I thank you.\n\n  _Cac._ You've manners! ever thank him that has money.\n\n  _San._ Wilt thou lend me any?\n\n  _Cac._ Not a farthing, captain; captains are casual things.\n\n  _San._ Why, so are all men:\n  Thou shalt have my bond.\n\n  _Cac._ Nor bonds, nor fetters, captain:\n  My money is my own; I make no doubt on't.\n\n  _Juan._ What dost thou do with it?\n\n  _Cac._ Put it to pious uses--\n  Buy wine--\n\n  _Juan._ Are you for the wars, Sir?\n\n  _Cac._ I am not poor enough to be a soldier,\n  Nor have I faith enough to ward a bullet;\n  This is no living for a trench, I take it.\n\n  _Juan._ You have said wisely.\n\n  _Cac._ Had you but money\n\n  You'd swear it, colonel. I'd rather drill at home\n  A hundred thousand crowns, and with more honour,\n  Than exercise ten thousand fools with nothing;\n  A wise man safely feeds, fools cut their fingers.\n\nThe prurient coarseness of Fletcher is due to the peculiar\nlicentiousness of the period. In his plays, although kissing is\nsometimes provocative of jealousy, it is generally regarded, even by\npersons of rank, as of less importance than it is now by boys and girls,\nwho play \"Kiss in the ring.\" In \"Rule a wife and have a wife\" Margarita\nsays to the Duke\n\n  \"I may kiss a stranger,\n   For you must be so now.\"\n\nThis lady is desirous of obtaining a very easy husband, who will let her\ndo whatever she likes. A friend says she has found one for her in Leon,\nwho is forthwith introduced. Margarita puts some questions to him to\nascertain his docility, and then says--\n\n  \"Let me try your kisses--\n   How the fool shakes!--I will not eat you, Sir.\n   Beshrew my heart, he kisses wondrous manly!\n   You must not look to be my master, Sir,\n   Nor talk i' th' house as though you wore the breeches,\n   No, nor command in anything. . . You must not be saucy,\n   No, nor at any time familiar with me;\n   Scarce know me when I call not.\"\n\nAfter trying and approving his kisses again, she tells him that he is\nnot to start or be offended if he sees her kissing anyone else. He is to\nkeep in the cellar, when not wanted. The proposed husband promises to be\nmost obedient and accommodating in everything, but as soon as he is\naccepted and the ceremony performed, he appears in a totally different\ncharacter. He informs his wife, in whose magnificent house he goes to\nlive--\n\n    You've nothing to do here, Madam,\n    But as a servant to sweep clean the lodgings,\n    And at my farther will to do me service.\n    _Margarita_ (_to her servants._) Get me my coach!\n    _Leon._ Let me see who dare get it\n  Till I command; I'll make him draw your coach\n  And eat your couch, (which will be hard duty).\n\nOn Cacafogo making some slighting remark, this gentle individual\nexclaims--\n\n  \"Peace! dirt and dunghill!\n   I will not lose mine anger on a rascal;\n   Provoke me more,--I will beat thy blown body\n   Till thou rebound'st again like a tennis-ball.\"\n\nIn \"Monsieur Thomas\" we have the following jovial passage--\n\n  _Francisco._ What hast thou there? a julep?\n\n  _Hylas._ He must not touch it;\n  'Tis present death.\n\n  _Thomas._ You are an ass, a twirepipe,\n  A Jeffery John Bo-peep! Thou minister?\n  Thou mend a left-handed pack-saddle? Out! puppy!\n  My Friend, Frank, but a very foolish fellow.\n  Dost thou see that bottle? view it well.\n\n  _Fran._ I do, Tom.\n\n  _Tho._ There be as many lives in it as a cat carries;\n  'Tis everlasting liquor.\n\n  _Fran._ What?\n\n  _Tho._ Old sack, boy.\n  Old reverend sack; which for ought that I can read yet\n  Was the philosopher's stone the wise King Ptolomus\n  Did all his wonders by.\n\n  _Fran._ I see no harm, Tom.\n  Drink with a moderation.\n\n  _Tho._ Drink with sugar,\n  Which I have ready here, and here a glass, boy.\n\n         *       *       *       *       *\n\n  Hang up your juleps, and your Portugal possets,\n  Your barley broths and sorrel soups; they are mangy\n  And breed the scratches only: Give me sack!\n\nThe devil now becomes a constant resource for humour. In \"The Chances\"\nAntonio has lost his jewels. His servant suggests that the thieves have\n\"taken towards the ports.\"\n\n  _Ant._ Get me a conjurer,\n  One that can raise a water-devil. I'll port 'em.\n  Play at duck and drake with my money? Take heed, fiddler,\n  I'll dance ye by this hand: your fiddlestick\n  I'll grease of a new fashion, for presuming\n  To meddle with my de-gambos! get me a conjurer,\n  Inquire me out a man that lets out devils.\n\nBeaumont and Fletcher were great conversationalists, their racy raillery\nis said to have been as good as their plays. They were members of the\ncelebrated Mermaid Club in Fleet Street, a centre where the wits of the\nday sharpened their humour in friendly conflict. In his epistle to Ben\nJonson, Beaumont writes--\n\n          \"What things have we seen\n  Done at the 'Mermaid!' heard words that have been\n  So nimble and so full of subtle flame,\n  As if that every one from whom they came\n  Had meant to put his whole wit in a jest,\n  And had resolved to live a fool the rest\n  Of his dull life.\"\n\nHere it was that Shakespeare and Jonson often contended, the former like\n\"a light English man-of-war\" the latter like \"a high-built Spanish\ngalleon.\"\n\nTo some portion of the seventeenth century, we must attribute those\ncurious stories called \"The Merry tales of the Wise Men of Gotham\"\nalthough by some they have been attributed to Andrew Gotham, a physician\nof Henry VIII. They are said to have been suggested by a circumstance\nwhich occurred in the time of King John. He intended to pass through\nGotham, a village in Northamptonshire, but the inhabitants placed some\ndifficulties in his way. On his expressing his determination to carry\nout his project, and sending officers to make inquiries about the\nopposition offered, the inhabitants were seized with a panic and\npretended to have lost their senses. This was the tradition upon which,\nin after-times, these tales were founded, and being unobjectionable they\nare well adapted for the nursery, but being mere exercises of ingenuity\nthey afford but very slight pleasure to older minds. Although aimless,\nthere is something clever in them. The Wise Men determine to hedge round\na cuckoo to keep it in so that it should sing all the year. The bird\nseeing the hedge flies away. \"A vengeance on her,\" say the Wise Men, \"we\nmade not the hedge high enough.\" There is the story of the young man,\nwhose mother told him to throw sheep's eyes at his sweetheart, and who,\nliterally, performed her bidding. One Good Friday the Men of Gotham\nconsulted what to do with their red herrings, and other salt fish, and\nagreed to cart them into a pond that the number might increase next\nyear. At the beginning of the next summer they drag the pond, and only\nfind a great eel. \"A mischief on him,\" they say, \"he hath eaten up our\nfish.\" Some propose to chop him in pieces, but the rest think it would\nbe best to drown him, so they throw him into another pond. Twelve men of\nGotham go to fish, and some stand on dry land, and some in the water.\nAnd one says \"We have ventured wonderfully in wading; I pray that none\nof us come home drowned.\" So they begin to count, and as each omits\nhimself he can only count eleven, and so they go back to the water, and\nmake great lamentation. A courtier, who meets them, convinces them of\ntheir mistake by laying his whip on each of them, who calls out in turn\n\"Here's one,\" until twelve are counted. The minister of Gotham preaches\nthat men should not drink in Lent. A man, who comes for absolution, and\nconfesses to having been drunk in Lent, replies that fish should swim.\n\"Yes,\" returns the priest, \"but in water.\" \"I cannot enjoin your\nprayer,\" he adds, \"for you cannot say your Paternoster. It is folly to\nmake you fast because you never get meat. Labour hard, and get a dinner\non Sunday, and I will come and dine with you.\"\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER VII.\n\nJesters--Court of Queen Elizabeth--James I.--The \"Counterblasts to\n  Tobacco\"--Puritans--Charles\n  II.--Rochester--Buckingham--Dryden--Butler.\n\n\nProfessed fools seem to have been highly appreciated in the time of\nShakespeare. They do not correspond to our modern idea of a fool,\nbecause there was intention in their actions, and yet we could not have\nconsidered them to be really sensible men. Nor had they great talent,\ntheir gifts being generally lower than those of our professed wits.\n\nAddison observes that, \"when a man of wit makes us laugh, it is by\nbetraying some oddness or infirmity in his own character,\" and at the\npresent day, not only do those who indulge much in humour often say\nthings approaching nonsense, and make themselves in other ways\nridiculous, but their object, being entirely idle diversion and\npleasantry, appears foolish and puerile. Those who cultivate humour are\nnot generally to be complimented on their success, and a popular writer\nhas thus classified fools--\"First, the ordinary fool; secondly the fool\nwho is one, and does not know it; thirdly, the fool who is not satisfied\nwith being one in reality, but undertakes in addition to play the fool.\"\nThus, to a certain extent we may always regard a professed wit as a\nsilly fellow, but still at the present day the acts or sayings of an\nabsolute idiot or lunatic, would be depressing and offensive, and could\nafford little amusement in any way except accidentally.[54] They would\nresemble the incongruities in dreams which although strange are not\ngenerally laughable. And if we are not amused with a fool, neither are\nwe with a man who imitates him, although Cicero says that humour\nconsists in a man who is not a fool, speaking as though he were one.\nSome mistake supposed to be made by an ordinary man is what amuses us,\nand although humorous sayings originated in an imitation of ludicrous\nthings, and Quintilian's observation sometimes holds good that the same\nthings, which if they drop from us unintentionally are foolish, if we\nimitate them are humorous; still humour is not confined to this; there\nis generally no such imitation, and the witty sayings of the present day\nare seldom representations of such things as anyone would utter in\nearnest, whether he were a fool or not.\n\nWe must not confuse folly and wit, though they may exist in the same\nperson and in close relationship. The latter requires intelligence and\nintention. If a humorous man ever purposely enacts the dullard, the\nimpersonation is always modified--he is like Snug, the joiner, who does\nnot \"fright the ladies.\" There is always some peculiar point in his\nblunders; if he acted the fool to the life we should not laugh with him.\nWe always see something clever and admirable in him, and to be\nsuccessful in this way, a man should possess considerable mental gifts,\nand be able to gauge the feelings of others. Still we can hardly assent\nto the proposition that \"it takes a wise man to make a fool.\" A man may\nbe witty without having any constructive power of mind. It is easier to\nfind fault than to be faultless, to see a blemish than to produce what\nis perfect--a pilot may point out rocks, but not be able to steer a safe\ncourse.\n\nAt the time of which we are now speaking, the double character of the\ncourt fool corresponded with that early and inferior humour which was\nalways on the verge of the ludicrous. The connection thus established,\nlong remained and led to witty observations being often spoken of as\n\"foolerie.\" Upon this conceit or confusion Shakespeare founded the\nspeech of Jaques in \"As you like it.\"\n\n  Act II. Scene IV.\n\n  _Jaques._ A fool! a fool!--I met a fool i' the forest,\n  A motley fool:--a miserable fool!--\n  As I do live by food, I met a fool:\n  Who laid him down, and basked him in the sun,\n  And railed on Lady Fortune in good terms.\n  In good set terms--and yet a motley fool.\n  \"Good morrow, fool,\" quoth I. \"No, Sir,\" quoth he,\n  \"Call me not fool till heaven hath sent me fortune.\"\n  And then he drew a dial from his poke,\n  And looking on it with lack lustre eye,\n  Says very wisely, \"It is ten o'clock;\"\n  \"Thus we may see,\" quoth he, \"how the world wags;\n  'Tis but an hour ago since it was nine,\n  And after one hour more t'will be eleven,\n  And so from hour to hour we ripe and ripe,\n  And then from hour to hour we rot and rot,\n  And thereby hangs a tale.\"\n\nThere is nothing very laughable in the above reflections, but they\ncontain a deep satire, and afford a beautiful example of Shakespearian\ncomplexity. From the mixture of wisdom and folly compounded in the\n\"fool\" of the day--who was then, it must be remembered, the monitor of\nthe great--it is here implied that in his awkward way he sometimes\narrived at truth better than the sage. As supremely wise men are often\nregarded as fools, so what seems folly may be the highest\nwisdom--\"motley's your only wear.\"\n\nThe fool is generally represented in Shakespeare as saying things which\nhave a certain wit and shrewdness.\n\n     _Clown._ God bless thee, lady.\n\n     _Olivia._ Take the fool away.\n\n     _Clo._ Do you not hear, fellows? Take away the lady.\n\n            *       *       *       *       *\n\n     Good Madonna, why mournest thou?\n\n     _Oli._ Good fool, for my brother's death.\n\n     _Clo._ I think his soul is in hell, Madonna.\n\n     _Oli._ I know his soul is in heaven, fool.\n\n     _Clo._ The more fool, Madonna, to mourn for your brother's soul\n     being in heaven. Take away the fool, gentlemen.\n\nIn King Lear.\n\n     _Fool._ Dost thou know the difference, my boy, between a bitter\n     fool and a sweet one?\n\n     _Lear._ No, lad, teach me.\n\n     _Fool._ That lord that counselled thee\n\n  To give away thy land,\n  Come place him here by me--\n  Do thou for him stand:\n  The sweet and bitter fool\n  Will presently appear,\n  The one in motley here,\n  The other found out there.\n\n     _Lear._ Dost thou call me fool, boy?\n\n     _Fool._ All thy other titles thou hast given away that thou wast\n     born with.\n\n     _Kent._ This is not altogether a fool, my lord.\n\nThe fact was that wit was now gradually improving, and was being wielded\nby so called fools in such a way that it could not be confounded with\nfatuity. The time was approaching when the humour manufactured by\nprofessed jesters would not be appreciated. Something higher and keener,\nsuch as Shakespeare has here shadowed forth would be required. This was\nnot reached in Ben Jonson's time, but fools and their artifices are by\nhim discarded for something more natural, for country bumpkins and\nservants, ludicrous in their stupidity, knavery and drunkenness. As\ncivilization advanced, jugglers and clowns were relegated to country\nfairs.\n\nHenry the Eighth, at the commencement of his reign was a great patron of\nmen of wit and learning, and probably the humour of More, as well as his\nvirtue, recommended him to the King. We read that at Cardinal Morton's\nentertainments of his Christmas company, the future Chancellor, then a\nboy, would often mount the stage and extemporize with so much wit and\ntalent as to surpass all the professional players. During his university\ncourse, and shortly afterwards, he wrote many neat Latin epigrams of\nwhich the two following rough translations will give some idea--\n\n  \"A thief about to be accused, implored\n     Advice, and sent his counsel many a pound,\n   The counsel, when o'er mighty tomes he'd pored,\n     Replied, 'If you'd escape, you must abscond.'\n\n  \"Once in the loving cup, a guest saw flies,\n     Removed them, drank, and then put back a few.\n   And, being questioned, sagely thus replies,\n     'I like them not--but cannot speak for you.'\"\n\nHe was to the last fond of pleasantry and kept a jester.\n\nThe daughter of Henry the Eighth and Anne Boleyn[55] could scarcely have\nbeen deficient in mirthfulness, and we find that the dangers through\nwhich she passed in her youth were not able to extinguish Elizabeth's\nlove of humour. According to the custom of the day she exhibited this\nnot only in her sayings, but, as comedians were then often received in\ngreat houses, she ordered in 1583 that twelve of them should be made\ngrooms of the chamber, be sworn the Queen's servants, and be arrayed in\nher livery. The most remarkable of these was Tarlton. He came of humble\norigin. Fuller says that, while tending his father's swine, a servant of\nRobert, Earl of Leicester, passing by was so pleased with his _happy\nunhappy_ answers that he took him to court. But Tarlton's humour was\noften that of the common fool, and depended generally upon action, look,\nand voice. His face was in this respect his fortune, for he had a flat\nnose and squinting eyes. Nash mentions that on one occasion he \"peept\nout his head,\" probably with a grimace, at the audience, which caused a\nburst of laughter, and led one of the justices, who did not understand\nthe fun, to beat the people on the bare pates, inasmuch as they, \"being\nfarmers and hinds, had dared to laugh at the Queen's men.\" He was\ncelebrated for his jigs, _i.e._ extempore songs accompanied with tabor\nand pipe, and sometimes with dancing.\n\nFuller says he had great influence with Elizabeth, and could \"undumpish\"\nher at pleasure. Her favourites were wont to go to him to prepare their\naccess to her, and \"he told the Queen more of her faults than most of\nher chaplains, and cured her melancholy better than all her physicians.\"\n\nBohun says that, \"at supper she would divert herself with her friends\nand attendants, and if they made no answer she would put them upon mirth\nand pleasant discourse with great civility. She would then also admit\nTarlton, a famous comedian and pleasant talker, and other men to divert\nher with stories of the town, and the common jests or accidents, but so\nthat they kept within the bounds of modesty.\" Tarlton, on one occasion,\ncast reflections upon Leicester; and said of Raleigh, \"the knave\ncommands the Queen,\" at which she was so much offended that she forbade\nany of her jesters to approach her table.\n\nThe jests of Scogan, or rather those attributed to him, were very\npopular in Elizabeth's time. This man was court-fool to Henry VII., and\nis said to have been \"of pleasant wit and bent to merrie devices.\" He\nwas fond of practical jokes, and often attacked the clergy. Elizabeth\nseems to have had a natural gift of humour, and we read of many of her\nwitty sayings. On one occasion, upon an archbishop finding fault with\nsome of her actions, and quoting Scripture to prove she had acted more\nas a politician than a Christian. \"I see, my lord,\" she replied, \"that\nyou have read the scriptures, but not the book of Kings.\" She was so\nwell acquainted with proverbs, that on being presented with a collection\nof English aphorisms, and told by the author that it contained them\nall, she answered, \"Nay, where is 'Bate me an ace, quoth Bolton.'\"\n\nAmong the sayings, good for the period, which have been attributed to\nher, we read that when the Archduke raised the siege of Grave, the Queen\nwho heard of it before her secretary, said to him, \"Wot you that the\nArchduke is risen from the Grave.\" When at Lord Burleigh's she promised\nto make seven knights, and the gentlemen to be so honoured were placed\nin a line as the Queen was going out. The least worthy of them, however,\nwere through interest with Lord Burleigh placed first, so that they\nmight have precedence of creation. But the Queen passed down the row and\ntook no notice of them; but when she had reached the screen, turned, and\nobserving, \"I had almost forgotten my promise,\" proceeded to knight from\nthe lower end. On one of her Privy Council saying \"Your Majesty was too\npolitic for my Lord Burleigh,\" she replied, \"I have but followed the\nscripture--'the first shall be last and the last first.'\"\n\nThe cares of sovereignty, and the opposition of her Roman Catholic\nsubjects led Elizabeth's humour to assume a somewhat severe complexion.\nHer thoughts gradually became more earnest, and her jests cynical.\nMoreover, as seen in Shakespeare, the age in which she lived was\nreflective, and the budding activity of mind was directed towards great\ninterests. There was not that impression of the vanity of all things,\nwhich grows up with the extension and maturity of society, and attracts\nthe mind to more fanciful and less grave considerations. A good contrast\nbetween Elizabeth's position, and that of James I. may be seen in the\nfollowing occurrences. When Henry IV. had given the order of St. Michael\nto Nicolas Clifford and Anthony Shirley, she commanded them to return\nit. \"I will not,\" she said, \"have my sheep follow the pipe of a strange\nshepherd;\"[56] but when James I. was told that several noblemen of his\ncourt and council, received pensions from Spain, the King replied that\nhe knew it well, and only wished the King of Spain would give them ten\ntimes as much, as it would render him less able to make war upon him.\n\nJames was a man of a very eccentric and grotesque fancy, combined with a\nconsiderable amount of intelligence and learning. He was particularly\nfond of religious controversy, and wrote what he considered to be an\nimportant work on \"Demonologie.\" From one passage we might suppose that\nhe thought it sinful to laugh, as he says that man can only laugh,\nbecause he can only sin. But he kept two clowns for his amusement, and\nalso appreciated Ben Jonson, to whom he gave the direction of the Court\nMasques. He occasionally made some caustic remarks, which have come down\nto us, such as, \"Who denys a thing he even now spake, is like him that\nlooks in my face and picks my pocket.\" \"A travelling preacher and a\ntravelling woman never come to any good at all.\"\n\nSir Henry Wooton told him how the Prince of Conde sued for the title of\nAltesse from the Synod of Venice. The King replied, \"The Prince had good\nreason to sue for it, and that the Seigniory had done ill to deny it\nhim, considering that the world knew how well he deserved it; it being\nhis custom to raise himself upon every man's back, and to make himself\nthe higher by every man's tail he could get upon. And for that cause he\nhoped to see him elevated by the just Justice of God to as high a\ndignity as the gallows at last.\"\n\nJames the First's writings were mostly of a religious character, and\nsome of them were sufficiently ludicrous. But in his \"Counterblaste to\nTobacco,\" his indignation is often mixed with humour. He observes that\nsmoking came from the Indians, and continues--\n\n\"And now, good countreymen let vs (I pray you) consider what honour or\npolicy can move vs to imitate the barbarous and beastly maneres of the\nwilde, Godlesse and slavish Indians, especially in so vile and stinking\na custome? Shall wee that disdaine to imitate the manners of our\nneighbour France.... Shall wee, I say without blushing abase ourselves\nso farre as to imitate these beastly Indians, slaves to the Spaniards,\nrefuse to the world, and as yet aliens from the Holy Covenant of God?\nWhy doe wee not as well imitate them in walking naked as they doe? in\npreferring glasses, feathers, and such toyes to gold and precious\nstones, as they doe? Yea, why do wee not deny God, and adore the divel\nas they doe?\"\n\nHe proceeds to combat the theory, \"That the braines of all men beeing\nnaturally cold and wet, all drie and hote things should be good for\nthem.\" \"It is,\" he says, \"as if a man, because the liver is hote, and as\nit were an oven to the stomache, would therefore apply and weare close\nupon his liver and stomache a cake of lead; he might within a short time\n(I hope) bee susteined very cheape at an Ordinarie, besides the clearing\nof his conscience from that dreadful sinne of gluttonie.\"\n\nTowards the end he gives some medical testimony--\n\n\"Surely smoke becomes a kitchin farre better than a dining chamber, and\nyet it makes a kitchin also oftentimes in the inward parts of men,\nsoyling and infecting them with an vnctuous and oily kind of soote, as\nhath been found in some great tobacco takers, that after their death,\nwere opened.\"\n\nAddison, speaking of James' love of jesting, observes:--\"The age in\nwhich the pun chiefly flourished was in the reign of King James the\nFirst. That learned monarch was himself a tolerable punster, and made\nvery few bishops or privy-councillors that had not sometime or other\nsignalized themselves by a clinch or a conundrum. It was therefore in\nthis age that the pun appeared with pomp and dignity. It had been before\nadmitted into merry speeches and ludicrous compositions, but was now\ndelivered with great gravity from the pulpit, or pronounced in the most\nsolemn manner at the council-table.\" Verbal humour continued to be\nadmired for its ingenuity in the reign of Charles I. The childish taste\nof the time in this respect is prominently exhibited in the \"Fames\nRoule,\" written by a Mrs. Mary Fage, in honour of the royal family and\nprincipal peers of the realm. It consists of short poems, and each one\nforms an acrostic, and commences with an anagram of the name.\n\nThe following will give specimens of this ridiculous composition:--\n\n  \"To the high and mighty. Princesse Mary,\n  Eldest Daughter of our Soveraigne Lord King Charles.\n\n  MARY STVARTE.\n\n  Anagramma.\n\n  A MERRY STATV.\n\n  \"M irth may with Princes very well agree,\n   A Merry Statv then faire Madam be;\n   R ightly 'twill fit your age, your vertues grace;\n   Y eelding A Merry Statv in your face.\n\n  \"S mile then, high Lady, while of mirth write I,\n   T hat so my Muse may with alacrity,\n   U nto your Highness sing without all feare,\n   A nd a true Statv of your vertues reare:\n   R eaching whereto, that she may higher flee,\n   T hus humbly beg I on my bended knee,\n   E ver A Merry Statv be to me.\"\n\n  GEORGE MANNERS.\n\n  Anagramma.\n\n  NOR AS GREEN GEM.\n\n  \"G reat honoured Peere, and _Rutland's_ Noble Earle,\n   E ven in vertue shining like a Pearle\n   O ver all _Europe_, adding to your birth,\n   R adiant bright beames of your true honoured worth:\n   G em great and precious, see you are remaining\n   E ver the rayes of vertue's beames retaining.\n\n  \"M aking all _Europe_ stand amazed quite,\n   A nd wonder much at _Rutland's_ glorious light,\n   N or _as_ a _green gem_ let your lustre be,\n   N o, _greenness_ here betokens _levity_,\n   E ver more as a precious gem remain you,\n   R ed or some orient colour still retaine you;\n   S o _nor as green gem_, will the world proclaime you.\"\n\nThe jester still remained in office in Charles the First's reign and\nArchee assumed the old prerogative of the motley in telling home truths\nto his master. On one occasion he was ordered by the King to say grace,\nas the chaplain was away, upon which the jester pronounced it, \"All\nglory be to God on high, and little Laud to the devil.\" At which all the\ncourtiers smiled, because it reflected upon the Archbishop of\nCanterbury, who was a little man. The King said he would tell Laud, and\nwhat would he do then? \"Oh!\" said Archee, \"I will hide me where he will\nnever find me.\" \"Where is that?\" asked the King. \"In his pulpit,\"\nanswered Archee, \"for I am sure he never goes there.\"\n\nThe rebellion against Charles the First and the success of the Puritans\nled to a remarkable development of religious feeling. Men seemed for the\nmoment to think more of the next world than of the present, seasoned\ntheir language with texts, and from Scripture adopted new names suitable\nto a new life. Their usual tone of conversation is thus humorously\ndescribed by Harrison Ainsworth.\n\nCaptain Stelfax pays Colonel Maunsel a domiciliary visit, and an old\nRoyalist retainer tells the redoubtable Roundhead that he looks more\nlike a roystering Cavalier than a Puritan, to which the latter replies--\n\n\"Go to, knave, and liken me not to a profane follower of Jehoram. Take\nheed that thou answerest me truthfully. Thou art newly returned from\nthe battle-field whereat the young man Charles Stuart was utterly\nrouted, and where our general, like Pekah the son of Remaliah slew many\nthousands of men in one day, because they had forsaken the Lord God of\ntheir fathers. Didst thou bear arms in the service of Ahaz?\"\n\nOne Increase Micklegift soon afterwards fell into the captain's bad\ngraces--\n\n\"I begin to suspect it was by thy instrumentality that he hath escaped.\"\n\n\"How could that be seeing I was with thee in the closet.\" Micklegift\nrejoined.\n\n\"It might easily be, since it was by thy devise that I was led into the\nsnare. Bitterly shalt thou rue it, if I find thee leagued with the\nAmalekites.\"\n\nAll this affords a good idea of the phraseology of these men, some of\nwhom indulged in such names as \"Nehemiah, Lift-up-Hand\" and\n\"Better-Late-than-Never,\" and it must be remembered, to their credit,\nthat there never was a more orderly army than that of Cromwell. In\naccordance with the sentiments then entertained all theatrical\nexhibitions were prohibited. Such austerity and self-denial could not be\nof long continuance--it was kept up by an effort, and led to an\ninevitable reaction, and so we find that the court of the \"Merry\nMonarch\" became notorious in history for its dissipation. Humour\nproportionally changed from what it had been under Charles I., and we\nread that that the old Earl of Norwich, who had been esteemed the\ngreatest wit, was now quite out of fashion.\n\nBarbarous nations have little idea of delicacy of any kind; and\ncivilisation finds it hard entirely to change nature, so that\nwhere-ever the ground is allowed to lie fallow, the old weeds appear in\ntheir noisesome rankness. Hence from time to time we find indelicacy\nspringing up, and made to serve the purposes of those who know that the\nevil plant is not radically extirpated. One of the most offensive men in\nthis respect was Peter Aretinus, an Italian adventurer, who became a\ngreat favourite with the Emperor Charles V. He is said to have died from\nfalling back over his chair in a fit of laughter, on hearing some\nindelicate joke. But modes of death have often been invented to accord\nwith the lives of those who suffered them, just as dithyrambic Anacreon\nis said to have been choked by a grape stone.\n\nLouis XI. was also addicted to this jesting which is not convenient. We\nread that he told Edward IV. in a jocose way that he was right glad to\nsee him at Paris, and that if he would come and divert himself with the\ngay ladies there, he would assign for his confessor, the Cardinal of\nBourbon, who, he knew, would grant him easy absolution for peccadilloes\nof love and gallantry. Edward was much pleased with this raillery, for\nhe knew the Cardinal was a gay man. Louis was afterwards in great alarm\nupon Edward's acceptance of his invitation.\n\nThe humour of Charles II. and his court consisted more of jollity than\nwit. The king was always ready to laugh outright, even in church at the\nsermon. He encouraged and led the way in an indelicate kind of jesting,\nwhich he seems to have learned during his travels in France. On his\ntelling Lord Shaftesbury, \"I believe Shaftesbury, that thou art the\nwickedest dog in England,\" the statesman humbly replied, \"May it please\nyour Majesty, of a subject, I believe I am.\" We should not expect too\nmuch from the son of Henrietta Maria. It is related that one morning\nwhen at Exeter, pressing her hand to her head she said to her physician,\n\"Mayerne, I am afraid I shall go mad some day.\" \"Nay,\" he replied, \"your\nMajesty need not fear _going_ mad; you have been so some time.\"\n\nBut Charles owed much to his gay and easy manner. Notwithstanding his\nfaults \"he was so pleasant a man that no one could be sorrowful under\nhis government.\" He sometimes dined at the annual civic banquet, and one\nof the company present on the occasion when Sir Robert Viner was Lord\nMayor, refers to it as follows. \"Sir Robert was a very loyal man, and if\nyou will allow the expression, very fond of his sovereign, but what with\nthe joy he felt at heart for the honour done him by his prince and\nthrough the warmth he was in with continual toasting healths of the\nroyal family, his lordship grew a little fond of His Majesty, and\nentered into a familiarity not altogether so graceful in so public a\nplace. The king understood very well how to extricate himself in all\nkinds of difficulties, and with a hint to the company to avoid ceremony,\nstole off and made towards his coach which stood ready for him in\nGuildhall yard. But the Mayor liked his company so well, and was grown\nso intimate, that he pursued him hastily and catching him fast by the\nhand, cried out with a vehement oath and accent, 'Sir, you shall stay\nand take t'other bottle.' The airy monarch looked kindly at him over his\nshoulder, and with a smile and graceful air (for I saw him at the time\nand do now) repeated this line of the old song 'He that's drunk is as\ngreat as a King,' and immediately turned back and complied with his\nrequest.\"\n\nTom Killegrew was the last of his cloth; forced and constant jesting\nbecoming less and less appreciated. As the jesters approached their end,\nthey had more of the moralist and politician in them than of the\nmountebank. We may judge of Killegrew's wit, when we read that one day\non his appearance Charles said to his gay companions, \"Now we shall hear\nour faults.\" \"No,\" replied the jester, \"I don't care to trouble my head\nwith that which all the town talks of.\"[57] Killegrew must have had fine\nscope for his sarcasm. In these times the character of the monarch gave\nthe tone to society, and was reflected in the dramatists. Thus we find\nthe earnestness of Elizabeth in Shakespeare, the whimsicality of James\nin Jonson, and the licentiousness of Charles II. in the poets of the\nRestoration. The deterioration of men and of humour in the last reign is\nmarked by the fact that ridicule was mostly directed not against vice as\nin Roman satire, but against undeserved misfortunes. Even virtue and\nlearning did not afford immunity; Bishop Warburton writes: \"This weapon\n(in the dissolute times of Charles II.) completed the ruin of the best\nminister of that age. The historians tell us that Chancellor Hyde was\nbrought into his Majesty's contempt by this court argument. They\nmimicked his walk and gesture with a fire-shovel and bellows for the\nmace and purse.\"\n\nThe indelicacy of which Charles and his companions was guilty, was not\nof a primitive and ignorant kind, but always of an amatory character,\nand at the expense of the fair sex; jests formerly so common as to\nobtain the name of \"japes.\" The writers of that day are objectionable\nnot merely for coarseness of this kind, but for the large amount of it,\nas one artiste in complimentary attire might be tolerated where a crowd\nof seminude performers could not. The poems of Sedley and Rochester are\nas abundant in indelicacy as they are deficient in humour. The epigram\nof Sedley to \"Julius\" gives a more correct idea of his character than of\nhis usual dullness.\n\n     \"Thou swearest thou'll drink no more; kind Heaven send Me such a\n     cook or coachman, but no friend.\"\n\nRochester might have produced something good. His verses have more\ntraces of poetry and humour than we should expect from a man who out of\nthe thirty-four years of his life, was for five of them continually\ndrunk. He nearly always attunes his harp to the old subject, so as to\nbecome hopelessly monotonous. Inconstancy has great charms for him, and\nhe consequently imputes it also to the ladies--\n\n  \"Womankind more joy discovers\n   Making fools, than keeping lovers.\"\n\nAgain:\n\n  \"Love like other little boys,\n   Cries for hearts as they for toys,\n   Which when gained, in childish play,\n   Wantonly are thrown away.\"\n\nHe seems to have been oppressed by a disbelief in any kind of good in\nthe world. His philosophy, whenever he ventured upon any, was sceptical\nand irreverent. His best attempt in this direction was a poem \"Upon\nNothing,\" which commences:\n\n  \"Nothing! thou elder brother ev'n to shade,\n   That had'st a being 'ere the world was made,\n   And (well fixt) art alone of ending not afraid.\n   Ere Time and Place were, Time and Place were not,\n   When primitive Nothing, Something straight begot,\n   Then all proceeded from the great united--What?\"\n\nSometimes he amused himself writing libels on the king, and some of his\nsatires contain more or less truth, as--\n\n  \"His father's foes he does reward,\n   Preserving those that cut off's head,\n   Old Cavaliers, the crown's best guard,\n   He lets them starve for want of bread.\n     Never was a King endued\n   With so much grace and gratitude.\"\n\nBuckingham does not appear to have agreed with Rochester about Charles,\nfor he writes, \"He was an illustrious exception to all the common rules\nof physiognomy, for with a most saturnine and harsh sort of countenance,\nhe was both of a merry and merciful disposition.\" Buckingham's humour\nwas of a very poor description, but he wrote a Comedy \"The Rehearsal,\"\nwhich was highly approved, mostly, however, because aimed at Dryden, and\nthe heroic drama. From one passage in it, we observe that he noticed the\ndifference between the effect of humour in the plot, and in the dialogue\nof the play--\n\n     _Prettyman._ Well, Tom, I hope shortly we shall have another coin\n     for thee; for now the wars are coming on, I shall grow to be a man\n     of metal.\n\n     _Bayes._ O, you did not do that half enough.\n\n     _Johnson._ Methinks he does it admirably.\n\n     _Bayes._ I, pretty well, but he does not hit me in't, he does not\n     top his part.\n\n     _Thimble._ That's the way to be stamped yourself, Sir, I shall see\n     you come home like an angel for the king's evil, with a hole bored\n     through you.\n\n     _Bayes._ There he has hit it up to the hilt. How do you like it\n     now, gentlemen? is not this pure wit?\n\n     _Smith._ 'Tis snip snap, Sir, as you say, but methinks not pleasant\n     nor to the purpose, for the play does not go on. The plot stands\n     still.\n\n     _Bayes._ Why, what the devil is the plot good for but to bring in\n     fine things.\n\nDryden could scarcely be expected to remain silent under the blow here\naimed at his plays. An opportunity for revenge soon presented itself,\nwhen he undertook to compose a political satire upon Monmouth and his\nintrigues. Some say that this remarkable poem was written at the command\nof Charles. It had a great success, five editions being sold within the\nyear--one cause of its popularity being its novel character. The idea of\nintroducing Scriptural impersonations into a poem was new or nearly so,\nand very successful. Monmouth had already been called Absalom, and as\nthe King (David) was very fond of him, it was desirable to place his\nshortcomings to the account of his advisers, represented by Achitophel.\nThe way in which Dryden handled his adversaries may be understood from\nsuch passages as:--\n\n  \"Levi, thou art a load: I'll lay thee down\n   And show rebellion bare, without a gown;\n   Poor slaves in metre, dull and addle-pated\n   Who rhime below e'en David's psalms translated.\"\n\nDoeg is another enemy:--\n\n  \"'Twere pity treason at his door to lay\n   Who makes heaven's gate a lock to its own key.\n   Let him rail on, let his invective muse\n   Have four and twenty letters to abuse,\n   Which, if he jumbles to one line of sense\n   Indict him of a capital offence.\"\n\nThis satire led to some replies, which Dryden crushed in his \"Mac\nFlecnoe,\" a poem named after an Irish priest--an inferior poet--who, but\nfor this notice, would never have been known to posterity. Shadwell was\nthe man really aimed at; Mac Flecnoe exclaims:--\n\n  \"Shadwell alone, of all my sons, is he\n   Who stands confirmed in full stupidity,\n   The rest to some faint meaning make pretence\n   But Shadwell never deviates into sense.\"[58]\n\nAfter much in the same strain, he finishes with:--\n\n  \"Thy genius calls thee not to purchase fame\n   In keen iambics, but mild anagram.\n   Leave writing plays, and choose for thy command\n   Some peaceful province in acrostic land,\n   There thou mayest wings display and altars raise,\n   And torture one poor world ten thousand ways.\"\n\nDryden calls this kind of satire Varronian, as he weaves a sort of\nimaginary story into which he introduces the object of his attack. He\nwas under the impression that this was the first piece of ridicule\nwritten in heroics, and his claim seemed correct as far as England was\nconcerned, but Boileau and Tassoni had preceded him. Willmot says,\n\"Dryden is wanting in the graceful humour of Tassoni, and exquisite\npower of Boileau. His wit has more weight than edge--it beat in armour,\nbut could not cut gause.\" The greater part of Dryden's satire could not\ncut anything, nor be distinguished from elaborate vituperation. He\nwrote an essay on Satire, in which he shows a much better knowledge of\nhistory than of humour. His best passages are in the \"Spanish Friars,\"\nbut they are weak and mainly directed against the profligacy of the\nChurch. The servant says of the friar, \"There's a huge, fat religious\ngentleman coming up, Sir. He says he's but a friar, but he's big enough\nto be a Pope; his gills are as rosy as a turkey-cock's; his great belly\nwalks in state before him like an harbinger, and his gouty legs come\nlimping after it. Never was such a ton of devotion seen.\"\n\nSamuel Butler affords one of the many examples of highly gifted literary\nmen who have died in great poverty. His works, recommended by Lord\nDorset, were read largely, and even by the King himself; but there was\nthen no great demand for books, and authors had to look to patrons, and\neat the uncertain bread of dependence. We may suppose, however, that he\nwas an improvident man, for during his life he held several offices, and\nwas at one time steward of Ludlow Castle.\n\nButler possessed a real gift of humour, and an astonishing fertility of\ninvention. To us there seems to be still too much indelicacy in his\nwritings, though less than heretofore, and there is a considerable\namount of bear-fighting, both in the literal and metaphorical sense.\nThis rough and cruel pastime was very common in that day. We read of\nbear-baiting at Kenilworth to amuse Queen Elizabeth, and Alleyn, the\nmunificent founder of Dulwich College, was not only a dramatic author\nand manager, but \"Master of the bears and dogs,\" which seems to have\nbeen a post of honour. To the present day, a ring for such sports is to\nbe seen outside the principal gate of Battle Abbey.\n\nWe have already observed that the drama of Spain became the model for\nthat of modern Europe, and we are not therefore surprised to find that\nthe main design in Sir Hudibras is to produce an English Don Quixote.\nAll the accessories of the work point to this imitation; there is a long\naccount of his arms, his Squire, and horse. But beyond this, he aimed at\nseveral well-known rogues of his day, especially those pretending to\nnecromancy and prophetic powers, who seem to have been numerous.[59]\nThis gave the poem an interest at that day which it cannot have now, and\nit was increased by the amusing hits he makes at the Puritans, who had\nlately convulsed the State, and whom he had been able to gauge when he\nwas employed by Sir Samuel Luke.[60] The lines are well known in which\nhe speaks of the time:--\n\n  \"When pulpit, drum, ecclesiastic,\n   Was beat with fist, instead of a stick;\"\n\nand the general outcry against dignitaries is thus represented:--\n\n  \"The oyster women locked their fish up\n   And trudged away to cry 'No Bishop';\n   Botchers left old clothes in the lurch,\n   And fell to turn and patch the church;\n   Some cry'd the Covenant, instead\n   Of pudding, pies, and gingerbread!\"\n\nSir Hudibras is a Presbyterian \"true blue.\"\n\n  \"Such as do build their faith upon\n   The holy test of pike and gun;\n   Decide all controversies by\n   Infallible artillery:\n   And prove their doctrine orthodox\n   By apostolic blows and knocks.\n\n  \"Rather than fail, they will defy\n   That which they love most tenderly;\n   Quarrel with minced pies, and disparage.\n   Their best and dearest friend, plum porridge;\n   Fat pig and goose itself oppose,\n   And blaspheme custard through the nose.\"\n\nSir Hudibras was learned in controversy:--\n\n  \"For he a rope of sand could twist\n   As tough as learned Sorbonist\n   And weave fine cobwebs fit for skull\n   That's empty when the moon is full,\n   Such as take lodgings in a head\n   That's to be let unfurnished.\"\n\nHe had been at the siege of \"Bullen,\" by Henry VIII., and his breeches\nwere lined\n\n            \"With many a piece\n   Of ammunition, bread and cheese,\n   And fat black puddings, proper food\n   For warriors that delight in blood.\n   For as he said he always chose\n   To carry victual in his hose,\n   That often tempted rats and mice\n   The ammunition to surprise.\"\n\nHudibras speaking of men fighting with an unworthy enemy, says:--\n\n  \"So th' Emperor Caligula\n   That triumphed o'er the British sea,\n   Took crabs and oysters prisoners,\n   And lobsters 'stead of cuirassiers;\n   Engaged his legions in fierce bustles\n   With periwinkles, prawns, and mussels,\n   And led his troops with furious gallops\n   To charge whole regiments of scallops;\n   Not like their ancient way of war,\n   To wait on his triumphal car;\n   But, when he went to dine or sup,\n   More bravely ate his captives up.\"\n\nButler begins one canto with\n\n  \"Ah me! what perils do environ\n   The man that meddles with cold iron.\"\n\nHis political views are seen in the following:\n\n  \"For as a fly that goes to bed\n   Rests with its tail above its head,\n   So in this mongrel state of ours\n   The rabble are the supreme powers.\n   That horsed us on their backs to show us\n   A jadish trick at last, and throw us.\"\n\nSeveral minor poems have been attributed to Butler, but most of them\nhave been considered spurious. Some, however, are admitted--one of which\nis a humorous skit against the Royal Society, who were supposed at that\nday to be too minutely subtle. It is called \"An Elephant in the Moon.\"\n\"Some learned astronomers think they have made a great discovery, but it\nis really owing to a mouse and some gnats having got into their\ntelescope.\"\n\nThe light, short metre in which Butler composed his comic narrative was\nwell suited to the subject, and corresponded to the \"swift iambics\" of\nArchilochus. Dryden says that double rhymes are necessary companions of\nburlesque writing. Addison, however, is of opinion that Hudibras \"would\nhave made a much more agreeable figure in heroics,\" to which Cowden\nClarke replies, \"Why, bless his head! the whole and sole intention of\nthe poem is _mock_ heroic, and the structure of the verse is burlesque,\"\nand he also tells us that Butler's rhymes constitute one feature of his\nwit. Certainly he had some strange terminations to his lines. Hudibras\nspeaking of hanging Sidrophel and Whackum says:--\n\n  \"I'll make them serve for perpendiclars\n   As true as e'er were used by bricklayers.\"\n\nOne of the bear-baiting mob annoys Rapho's steed, who\n\n  \"Began to kick, and fling, and wince,\n   As if he'd been beside his sense,\n   Striving to disengage from thistle\n   That gall'd him sorely under his tail.\"\n\nAgain we have:--\n\n  \"An ancient castle that commands\n   Th' adjacent parts, in all the fabric\n   You shall not see one stone, nor a brick.\"\n\nThe astrologers made an instrument to examine the moon to\n\n  \"Tell what her diameter per inch is;\n   And prove that she's not made of green cheese.\"\n\nBy the interchange which often takes place between the poetical and\nludicrous, this roughness of versification, then allowable, appears now\nso childish, that Lamb and Cowden Clark mistook it for humour. But we\nmight extract from the writers of that day many ridiculous rhymes,\nevidently intended to be serious.\n\nThe humour of Butler was in his time more popular than the sentiment of\nMilton, but he obtained no commensurate remuneration. Wycherley kindly\nendeavoured to interest Buckingham on his behalf, and had almost\nsucceeded, when two handsome women passed by, and the Duke left him in\npursuit of them. John Wesley's father has written Butler's epitaph in\nimperishable sarcasm:--\n\n  \"See him when starved to death and turned to dust,\n   Presented with a monumental bust;\n   The poet's fate is here in emblem shown,\n   He asked for bread, and he received--a stone.\"\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER VIII.\n\nComic Drama of the Restoration--Etherege--Wycherley.\n\n\nThe example set by Beaumont and Fletcher seems to have been much\nfollowed by their immediate successors. Decker wrote conjointly with\nWebster and Middleton, and it is sometimes difficult to distinguish his\nwork. His power of invective was well known; and in his humour there is\nsuch straining after strong words and effective phrases, as to seem\nquite unnatural. His \"Gull's Hornbook\" is written against coxcombs, and\nhe says their \"vinegar railings shall not quench his Alpine\nresolutions.\"\n\nEtherege and Wycherley ushered in the comic drama of the Restoration.\nThey were both courtiers, and the successful writers of this period took\ntheir tone from that of \"the quality.\"\n\nGeorge, (afterwards Sir George) Etherege was born in 1636. He was known\nas \"Gentle George\" or \"Easy Etherege,\" and it is said that he was\nhimself a fop, and painted the character of Dorimant in Sir Fopling\nFlutter from himself. In his principal plays there is very little\nhumour, though he gives some amusing sketches of the affectations of the\nmetropolis.\n\n     _Mistress Loveit._ You are grown an early riser, I hear.\n\n     _Belinda._ Do you not wonder, my dear, what made me abroad so soon?\n\n     _Lov._ You do not use to do so.\n\n     _Bel._ The country gentlewomen I told you of (Lord! they have the\n     oddest diversions) would never let me rest till I promised to go\n     with them to the markets this morning, to eat fruit and buy\n     nosegays.\n\n     _Lov._ Are they so fond of a filthy nosegay?\n\n     _Bel._ They complain of the stinks of the town, and are never well\n     but when they have their noses in one.\n\n     _Lov._ There are essences and sweet waters.\n\n     _Bel._ O, they cry out upon perfumes they are unwholesome, one of\n     'em was falling into a fit with the smell of these Narolii.\n\n     _Lov._ Methinks, in complaisance, you should have had a nosegay\n     too.\n\n     _Bel._ Do you think, my dear, I could be so loathsome to trick\n     myself up with carnations and stock-gilly flowers? I begged their\n     pardon, and told them I never wore anything but Orange-flowers and\n     Tuberose. That which made me willing to go was a strange desire I\n     had to eat some fresh nectarines.\n\nWycherley was the son of a Shropshire gentleman who being a Royalist,\nand not willing to trust him to the Puritans, sent him to be educated in\nFrance. He became a Roman Catholic, but afterwards recanted.\n\nWycherley was remarkable for his beauty, and stalwart proportions, he\nwas called \"manly\" or \"brawny\" Wycherley; and the notorious Duchess of\nCleveland was so captivated by his appearance, that she made his\nacquaintance when passing in her carriage by jocosely calling out at him\nsome abusive epithets. Afterwards, we are told that she often visited\nWycherley at the Temple, disguised as a country girl in a straw hat,\nwith pattens on her feet, and a basket on her arm. Later, he had the\nmisfortune to make the acquaintance of the Countess of Drogheda on the\nPantiles at Tunbridge Wells, and by secretly marrying her incurred the\nKing's displeasure. He was finally reduced to great distress, but James\nII., recognising his talent, gave him a pension, and saved him from\ndestitution in his old age.\n\nWycherley wrote his first play in 1667. In comparing him with\nShakespeare we find the same difference as existed between the old and\nnew comedy in Greece. Political characters have disappeared together\nwith hostility and combats on the stage, while amorous intrigue is\nlargely developed. There is at the same time considerable sprightliness\nin the dialogue, and the tricks, deceptions and misadventures of lovers\nfill the pages with much that is ingenious and amusing. In the\n\"Gentleman Dancing Master,\" a young spark pretends to a rich father that\nhe is only visiting his daughter to teach her to dance. A rival lover--a\nFrenchified puppy--is made unconsciously to co-operate in his own\ndiscomfiture, while the duped father jokes with the supposed \"dancing\nmaster,\" and asks him whether he is not engaged to one of his rich\npupils, laughing heartily at the picture he draws to himself of her\nfather's indignation. Again, in \"A Country Wife,\" a jealous husband\nobliges his spouse to write a disdainful letter to a gallant, but the\nlady slyly substitutes one of quite a different character, which the\nhusband duly and pompously delivers to him. The humour of Wycherley is\nalmost entirely of this kind. Here are no verbal quips, no sallies of\nprofessed fools, no stupidities of country boobies. These have passed\naway from good comedy. Speaking of the change, he says that formerly\nthey were contented to make serving-men fools on the stage, \"but now you\nshall scarcely see a fool on the stage who is not a knight.\" The fact\nwas that a higher kind of humour was required, and accordingly we now,\nfor the first time, hear of \"wits\"--men of good birth and position, who\nprided themselves on their talent. They were generally remarkable for\ntheir manners and address, and affected a superiority in acuteness, but\nnot always in humour. Wycherley speaks of wits not exactly in the sense\nof humorists, but rather as coxcombs, endued with a certain cunning:\n\"Your court wit is a fashionable, insinuating, flattering, cringing,\ngrimacing fellow, and has wit enough to solicit a suit of love; and if\nhe fail he has malice enough to ruin the woman with a dull lampoon; but\nhe rails still at the man that is absent, for all wits rail; and his wit\nproperly lies in combing perukes, matching ribbons, and being severe, as\nthey call it, upon other peoples' clothes.\"\n\n     _Lydia._ Now, what is your coffee wit?\n\n     _Dapperwit._ He is a lying, censorious, gossiping, quibbling\n     wretch, and sets people together by the ears over that sober\n     drink--coffee; he is a wit as he is a commentator upon the Gazette;\n     and he rails at the pirates of Algiers, the Grand Signior of\n     Constantinople, and the Christian Grand Signior.\n\n     _Lydia._ What kind of wit is your pollwit?\n\n     _Dap._ He is a fidgetting, busy, dogmatical, hot-headed fop, that\n     speaks always in sentences and proverbs, and he rails perpetually\n     against the present Government. His wit lies in projects and\n     monopolies, and penning speeches for Parliament men--\n\nHe goes on to speak of the scribble wit, and judge wit or critic, but in\ngeneral wits were regarded as rakes and not long afterwards we find it\ndebated whether a woman can be witty and virtuous.\n\nWycherley did not aim much at facetiousness, nor introduce many humorous\nepisodes, but passages incidentally occur which show he had considerable\ntalent in that direction. The first from \"Love in a Wood,\" is an\nironical conflict between one Gripe, a rich but parsimous Alderman, and\na Mrs. Joyner, a sly, designing old woman.\n\n     _Gripe._ I am full of your praise, and it will run over.\n\n     _Joyner._ Nay, sweet Sir, you are----\n\n     _Gripe._ Nay, sweet Mrs. Joyner, you are----\n\n     _Joy._ Nay, good your worship, you are----\n\n     (_Stops her mouth with his handkerchief_)\n\n     _Gripe._ I say you are----\n\n     _Joy._ I must not be rude with your worship.\n\n     _Gripe._ You are a nursing mother to the saints; through you they\n     gather together, through you they fructify and increase, and\n     through you the child cries out of the hand-basket.\n\n     _Joy._ Through you virgins are married, or provided for as well;\n     through you the reprobate's wife is made a saint; and through you\n     the widow is not disconsolate, nor misses her husband.\n\n     _Gripe._ Through you----\n\n     _Joy._ Indeed you will put me to the blush.\n\n     _Gripe._ Blushes are badges of imperfection--Saints have no shame.\n     You are the flower of matrons, Mrs. Joyner.\n\n     _Joy._ You are the pink of courteous Aldermen.\n\n     _Gripe._ You are the muffler of secrecy.\n\n     _Joy._ You are the head-band of Justice.\n\n     _Gripe._ Thank you, sweet Mrs. Joyner; do you think so indeed? You\n     are--you are the bonfire of devotion.\n\n     _Joy._ You are the bellows of zeal.\n\n     _Gripe._ You are the cupboard of charity.\n\n     _Joy._ You are the fob of liberality.\n\n     _Gripe._ You are the rivet of sanctified love or wedlock.\n\n     _Joy._ You are the pick-lock and dark-lantern of policy; and in a\n     word a conventicle of virtues.\n\n     _Gripe._ Your servant, your servant, sweet Mrs. Joyner! You have\n     stopped my mouth.\n\n     _Joy._ Your servant, your servant, sweet Alderman! I have nothing\n     to say.\n\nIndelicacy in words has by this time become very much reduced, although\nhere and there we find some cant expressions of the day which shock our\nsensibilities. Much refinement in this respect could not be expected at\na period where a young lady of fortune could be represented as calling\nher maid, and afterwards herself, a \"damned jade,\" and a lady from the\ncountry as saying she had not yet had \"her bellyful of sights\" in\nLondon.\n\n\"The Plain Dealer\" is a naval captain in the time of the Dutch war.\nOlivia says,\n\n     \"If he be returned, then shall I be pestered again with his\n     boisterous sea-love; have my alcove smell like a cabin, my chamber\n     perfumed with his tarpaulin Brandenburgh, and hear volleys of\n     brandy-sighs, enough to make a fog in one's room. Foh! I hate a\n     lover that smells like Thames Street.\"\n\nThe Plain Dealer, _i.e._, the sea-captain Manly, meets with a lawyer,\nand they converse in this way,\n\n     _Manly._ Here's a lawyer I know threatening us with another\n     greeting.\n\n     _Lawyer._ Sir! Sir! your very servant; I was afraid you had\n     forgotten me.\n\n     _Man._ I was not afraid you had forgotten me.\n\n     _Law._ No, Sir; we lawyers have pretty good memories.\n\n     _Man._ You ought to have by your wits.\n\n     _Law._ O, you are a merry gentleman, Sir; I remember you were merry\n     when I was last in your company.\n\n     _Man._ I was never merry in your company, Mr. Lawyer, sure.\n\n     _Law._ Why I am sure you joked upon me, and shammed me all night\n     long.\n\n     _Man._ Shammed! prithee what barbarous law-term is that?\n\n     _Law._ Shamming! why, don't you know that? 'tis all our way of wit,\n     Sir.\n\n     _Man._ I am glad I don't know it, then. Shamming! what does he mean\n     by it, Freeman?\n\n     _Free._ Shamming is telling an insipid dull lie with a dull face,\n     which the sly wag, the author, only laughs at himself; and making\n     himself believe 'tis a good jest, puts the sham only upon himself.\n\nManly meets an Alderman.\n\n     _Man._ Here's a city-rogue will stick as hard upon us as if I owed\n     him money.\n\n     _Ald._ Captain, noble Sir, I am yours heartily, d'ye see; why\n     should you avoid your old friends?\n\n     _Man._ And why should you follow me? I owe you nothing.\n\n     _Ald._ Out of my hearty respects to you; for there is not a man in\n     England----\n\n     _Man._ Thou wouldst save from hanging at the expense of a shilling\n     only.\n\n     _Ald._ Nay, nay, but Captain, you are like enough to tell me----\n\n     _Man._ Truth, which you wont care to hear; therefore you had better\n     go talk with somebody else.\n\n     _Ald._ No, I know nobody can inform me better of some young wit or\n     spendthrift, who has a good dipped seat and estate in Middlesex,\n     Hertfordshire, Essex, or Kent; any of these would serve my turn;\n     now if you know of such an one, and would but help----\n\n     _Man._ You to finish his ruin.\n\n     _Ald._ I' faith you should have a snip----\n\n     _Man._ Of your nose, you thirty in the hundred rascal; would you\n     make me your squire-setter?\n\n     (_Takes him by the nose._)\n\nTwo lovers, Lord Plausible and Novel, have the following dialogue about\ntheir chances of success with a certain lady who is wooed by both.\n\n     _Novel._ Prithee, prithee, be not impertinent, my lord; some of you\n     lords are such conceited, well assured impertinent rogues.\n\n     _Plausible._ And you noble wits are so full of shamming and\n     drollery, one knows not where to have you seriously.\n\n     _Nov._ Prithee, my lord, be not an ass. Dost thou think to get her\n     from me? I have had such encouragements--\n\n     _Plau._ I have not been thought unworthy of 'em.\n\n     _Nov._ What? not like mine! Come to an eclaircissement, as I said.\n\n     _Plau._ Why, seriously then; she told me Viscountess sounded\n     prettily.\n\n     _Nov._ And me, that Novel was a name she would sooner change hers\n     for, than any title in England.\n\n     _Plau._ She has commended the softness and respectfulness of my\n     behaviour.\n\n     _Nov._ She has praised the briskness of my raillery in all things,\n     man.\n\n     _Plau._ The sleepiness of my eyes she liked.\n\n     _Nov._ Sleepiness! dulness, dulness. But the fierceness of mine she\n     adored.\n\n     _Plau._ The brightness of my hair she liked.\n\n     _Nov._ Brightness! no the greasiness, I warrant! But the blackness\n     and lustre of mine she admires.\n\n     _Plau._ The gentleness of my smile.\n\n     _Nov._ The subtilty of my leer.\n\n     _Plau._ The clearness of my complexion.\n\n     _Nov._ The redness of my lips.\n\n     _Plau._ The whiteness of my teeth.\n\n     _Nov._ My jaunty way of picking them.\n\n     _Plau._ The sweetness of my breath.\n\n     _Nov._ Ha! ha! nay there she abused you, 'tis plain; for you know\n     what Manly said: the sweetness of your pulvillio she might mean;\n     but for your breath! ha! ha! ha! Your breath is such, man, that\n     nothing but tobacco can perfume; and your complexion nothing could\n     mend but the small-pox.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER IX.\n\nTom Brown--His Prose Works--Poetry--Sir Richard\n  Blackmore--D'Urfey--Female Humorists--Carey.\n\n\nWhether it was owing to the commotions of the Civil War in which \"fears\nand jealousies had soured the people's blood, and politics and polemics\nhad almost driven mirth and good humour out of the nation,\" or whether\nit was from a dearth of eminent talent, humour seems to have made little\nprogress under the Restoration. The gaiety of the Merry Monarch and his\ncompanions had nothing intellectual in it, and although \"Tom\" Brown[61]\ntells us that \"it was during the reign of Charles II. that learning in\ngeneral flourished, and the Muses, like other ladies, met with the\ncivilest sort of entertainment,\" his own works show that the best wits\nof the day could not soar much above the attempts of Sedley and\nRochester. Had Brown not acquired in his day the character of a\nhumorist, we should think that he equally well deserved that of a man of\nlearning, for whereas he shows an acquaintance with the classics and\nmodern languages, his writings, which are of considerable length,\ncontain little Attic salt. He was born in 1663, the son of a substantial\nShropshire farmer, and was sent to Christ Church, Oxford, where he\nbecame as remarkable for his quickness and proficiency, as for the\nirregularity of his conduct. On one occasion, owing to his having been\nguilty of some objectionable frolic, he was about to be expelled, when,\nupon his writing a penitential letter, the Dean, who seems to have known\nhis talent, promised to forgive him on his translating extempore the\nepigram of Martial.\n\n  \"Non amo te, Zabidi, nec possum dicere quare;\n   Hoc tantum possum dicere non amo te.\"\n\nThe young delinquent replied in words now better known than the\noriginal,\n\n  \"I do not love you, Dr. Fell,\n   But why I cannot tell,\n   But this I know full well,\n   I do not love you, Dr. Fell.\"\n\nAt this period he occasionally indulged in such silly effusions as the\n\"Adverbial Declaration,\" which he first wrote in Latin, on \"Mother\nWarner's bellows at Oxford.\"\n\nBrown was finally obliged to leave the University, and went up to London\nto seek his fortune. The unpromising and reckless spirit in which he\nset out, is probably reflected in one of his pieces entitled \"A Dialogue\nbetween two Oxford scholars.\"\n\n     _A._ Well, I see thou art resolved to leave us. I will not say,\n     \"Go, and be hanged,\" but go and turn country parson.\n\n     _B._ That's almost as bad, as the world goes now. But thanks to my\n     stars, I know a better trick than that.\n\n     _A._ It may be thou art fallen out with mankind, and intendest to\n     turn quack; or as they call it in the country, doctor.\n\n     _B._ No such matter; the _French_ can kill men fast enough, and for\n     women thou knowest my kindness.\n\n     _A._ But some of them have lived too long; and there are others so\n     miserable, that even compassion will incline thee to help them out\n     of the world. I can assure thee 'tis a profitable calling; for\n     whether thou dost kill or cure, thy fees will be put in thy hand.\n\n     _B._ Yes, when they are found. But, prithee, speak no more of it,\n     for I am resolved against it.\n\n     _A._ What, then, art thou resolv'd for the law? Methinks thou\n     should'st have too much University learning and wit for that\n     profession--\n\n     _B._ And too much honesty. But I'll spare thee the pains of\n     guessing, and tell thee in short what my condition is, and what I\n     design. My portion is all spent--save fifty pounds; and with that I\n     am resolved for London or some other wealthy place, where\n     conventicles abound: and as a man of tender conscience and\n     infinitely dissatisfied with several things in the Church of\n     England, I will endeavour by some means or other to force myself\n     into an acquaintance with some of their leading men, and more\n     especially with some of the most zealous and wonderful women among\n     them; and this point once gained, I doubt not, but before my stock\n     is half spent, I shall receive a call to be pastor or holder-forth\n     in some congregation or other--why dost smile?\n\n     _A._ At my friend's design. And I cannot but admire how it came\n     into thy head. Thy ability to manage such a design I know very\n     well; but how thou wilt dispense with the knavery of it, I am yet\n     to learn.\n\n     _B._ That's a small matter. As the world goes one must practise a\n     little knavery, or resolve to leave the world. Dost thou know that\n     religious cheats are licensed by a law? and shall I live and die\n     without taking advantage of it? Believe me, friend, Nature has\n     fitted me pretty well to be one of these godly mountebanks, and a\n     little art, together with a few months' conversation with that sort\n     of people will supply all natural defects. Cannot I put on, when I\n     please, a grave and serious countenance, and with head depending on\n     one shoulder a little more than on the other, sigh for the\n     iniquities of the time and corruptions of the Church? Cannot I wipe\n     mine eyes with the fair pocket-cloth, as if I wept for all your\n     abominations? Cannot I grieve in spirit as if ready to burst with\n     grief and compassion. And cannot I likewise, when time serves, and\n     company is disposed to be kindly affected with it, smile and fleer\n     as takingly? And what hurt is there in this? Sure I may use my own\n     face as I please.\n\nWe need scarcely say that Brown failed in his shrewd scheming; and he\nwas soon fain to take the humble position of a schoolmaster at Kingston\nupon Thames, for which his acquirements qualified him. But his literary\nambition would not allow him to remain long at this drudgery, and we\nsoon find him wandering up again to town, where he was again\nunfortunate. At this time, men of letters expected little from the sale\nof books; but often obtained patrons who conferred valuable appointments\nupon them. Brown's temper and position rendered him ineligible for this\nsort of promotion. Not being a gentleman by birth, he had no good\nintroductions, nor would he have been very acceptable in the houses of\nthe great. His coarseness in writing--excessive even in that day--was\nprobably reflected in his manners and language, and he had so little\nprudence that he ridiculed not only the clergy, but was always ready to\nlose a friend rather than a joke. Mere literary talent will not procure\nsuccess in society.\n\nBrown wrote a variety of essays, generally rather admonitory than\nhumorous. His \"Pocket-book of Common Places\" resembles a collection of\nProverbs or good sayings. It commences,\n\n\"To see the number of churches and conventicles open every Sunday, a\nstranger would fancy London all religion. But to see the number of\ntaverns, ale-houses, &c., he would imagine Bacchus was the only God that\nis worshipped there. If no _trades_ were permitted but those which were\nuseful and necessary, Lombard Street, Cheapside, and the Exchange might\ngo a-begging. For more are fed by our _vanities_ and _vices_ than by our\nvirtues, and the necessities of Nature.\"\n\nBut his favourite and characteristic mode of writing was under the form\nof letters. We have \"Letters Serious and Comical,\" \"Diverting Letters to\nGentlemen.\" One letter is to four ladies with whom the author was in\nlove at the same time.\n\nHe probably took his idea of \"Letters from the Dead to the Living,\" from\nLucian. He never spares Dissenters, and comically makes a Quaker relate\nhis warm reception in the lower world:--\n\n\"A parcel of black spiritual Janissaries saluted me as intimately as if\nI had been resident in these parts during the term of an apprenticeship;\nat last, up comes a swinging, lusty, overgrown, austere devil, armed\nwith an ugly weapon like a country dung-fork, looking as sharp about the\neyes as a Wood Street officer, and seemed to deport himself after such a\nmanner that discovered he had ascendancy over the rest of the immortal\nnegroes, and as I imagined, so 'twas quickly evident; for as soon as he\nespied me leering between the diminutive slabbering-bib and the\nextensive rims of my coney-wood umbrella, he chucks me under the chin\nwith his ugly toad-coloured paw, that stunk as bad of brimstone as a\ncard-match new-lighted, saying, 'How now, Honest Jones, I am glad to see\nthee on this side the river Styx, prithee, hold up thy head, and don't\nbe ashamed, thou art not the first Quaker by many thousands that has\nsworn allegiance to my government; besides, thou hast been one of my\nbest benefactors on earth, and now thou shalt see, like a grateful\ndevil, I'll reward thee accordingly.' 'I thank your excellence kindly,'\nsaid I, 'pray, what is it your infernal protectorship will be pleased\nto confer upon me?' To which his mighty ugliness replied, 'Friend\nNaylor, I know thou hast been very industrious to make many people fools\nin the upper world, which has highly conduced to my interest.' Then\nturning to a pigmy aerial, who attended his commands as a running\nfootman, 'Haste, _Numps_,' says he, 'and fetch me the painted coat,'\nwhich was no sooner brought, but by Lucifer's command I was shoved into\nit, neck and shoulders, by half a dozen swarthy _valets de chambre_, and\nin a minute's time found myself tricked up in a rainbow-coloured coat,\nlike a merry-Andrew. 'Now, friend,' says the ill-favoured prince of all\nthe hell-born scoundrels, 'for the many fools you have made above, I now\nordain you mine below;' so all the reward truly of my great services was\nto be made Lucifer's jester, or fool in ordinary to the devil; a pretty\npost, thought I, for a man of my principles, that from a Quaker in the\nouter world I should be metamorphosed into a jack-adam in the lower\none.\"\n\nThe occupation of people in the Nether world is described after\nRabelais, thus:--\"Cardinal Mazarin keeps a nine-holes; Mary of Medicis\nfoots stockings; and Katharine of Sweden cries 'Two bunches a penny\ncard-matches--two bunches a penny!' Henry the Fourth of France carries\na raree-show, and Mahomet sells mussels. Seneca keeps a fencing-school,\nand Julius Caesar a two-penny ordinary.\"\n\nAt the present day it is rather amusing to read, \"A Comical View of\nLondon and Westminster\"--a weekly prophecy intended to ridicule the\nincreasing use of barometers and other scientific instruments for\npredicting changes of weather.\n\n\"Wednesday October 16th. Cloudy, foggy weather at Garraway's and\nJonathan's, and at most coffee-houses at about twelve. Crowds of people\ngather at the Exchange by one; disperse by three. Afternoon, noisy and\nbloody at her Majesty's bear-garden at _Hockly-in-the-Hole_.\nNight--sober with broken chaplains and others that have neither credit\nnor money. This week's transactions censured by the virtuosos at\n_Child's_ from morning till night.\n\n\"Thursday 17th. Coffee and water-gruel to be had at the Rainbow and\nNando's at four. Hot furmity at Bride-bridge at seven. Justice to be had\nat _Doctor's Commons_, when people can get it. A lecture at Pinner's\nhall at ten. Excellent pease-pottage and tripe in Baldwin's Gardens at\ntwelve. A constable and two watchmen killed, or near being so in\n_Westminster_; whether by a lord or lord's footman, planets don't\ndetermine.\n\n\"Friday. Damsels whipped for their good nature at _Bridewell_ about ten.\nSeveral people put in fear of their lives by their god-fathers at the\n_Old Bailey_ at eleven. Great destruction of Herrings at one. Much\nswearing at three among the horse-coursers at Smithfield; if the oaths\nwere registered as well as the horses, good Lord, what a volume 'twould\nmake! Several tails turned up at St. Paul's School, Merchant Taylors,\n&c. for their repetitioning. Night very drunk, as the two former.\n\n\"Saturday 19th. Twenty butchers' wives in Leadenhall and Newgate markets\novertaken with sherry and sugar by eight in the morning. Shop-keepers\nwalk out at nine to count the trees in Moorfields, and avoid duns.\nPeople's houses cleansed in the afternoon, but their consciences we\ndon't know when. Evening pretty sober.\n\n\"Sunday. Beggars take up their posts in Lincoln's Inn Fields and other\nplaces by seven, that they may be able to praise God in capon and March\nbeer at night. Great jingling of bells all over the city from eight to\nnine. Parish clerks liquor their throats plentifully at eight, and\nchaunt out Hopkins most melodiously about ten. Sextons, men of great\nauthority most part of the day, whip dogs out of the church for being\nobstreperous. Great thumping and dusting of the cushion at Salter's\nHall about eleven; one would almost think the man was in earnest he lays\nso furiously about him. A most refreshing smell of garlic in\nSpittlefield's and Soho at twelve. Country fellows staring at the two\nwooden men at St. Dunstan's from one to two, to see how notably they\nstrike the quarters. The great point of Predestination settled in\nRussell-court about three; and the people go home as wise as they came.\nAfternoon sleepy in most churches. Store of handkerchiefs stolen at St.\nPaul's. Night, not so sober as might be wished....\"\n\nThe following are some of the best specimens of Brown's poems--squibs on\nthe fashions and occurrences of the day--\n\n  \"The _emblem of the nation_, so grave and precise,\n   On the _emblem of wisdom_ has laid an excise;\n   Pray tell me, grave sparks, and your answer don't smother,\n   Why one representative taxes another?\n   The _Commons_ on _salt_ a new impost have laid\n   To tax _wisdom_ too, they most humbly are pray'd;\n   For tell me ye patrons of woollen and crape,\n   Why the _type_ should be fined and the substance escape?\"\n\nA song in ridicule of a famous musician, who was caught serenading his\nmistress with his bass-viol on a very frosty night:--\n\n   Look down, fair garreteer bestow\n     One glance upon your swain,\n   Who stands below in frost and snow.\n     And shaking sings in pain.\n\n   Thaw with your eyes the frozen street,\n     Or cool my hot desire,\n   I burn within, altho' my feet\n     Are numbed for want of fire.\n             _Chorus_.\n\n   Thrum, thrum, thrum, thrum,\n   Come, come, come, come,\n      My dearest be not coy,\n   For if you are (zit, zan, zounds) I\n     Must without your favour die.\n\nThe sentiment in the following is easily appreciated, but is there not\nalso some slight essence of humour?\n\n\n  ON FLOWERS IN A LADY'S BOSOM.\n\n  Behold the promised land, where pleasures flow!\n  See how the milk-white hills do gently rise,\n      And beat the silken skies!\n  Behold the valley spread with flowers below!\n  The happy flowers, how they allure my sense!\n  The fairer soil gives them the nobler hue\n      Her breath perfumes them too:\n  Rooted i' th' heart they seem to spring from thence,\n  Tell, tell me why, thou fruitful virgin breast,\n  Why should so good a soil lie unpossest?\n\nBrown's humour partook of the coarseness of most of the writers of his\ntimes, and scandalized the more religious and decent muse of Sir Richard\nBlackmore, who endeavoured to correct this general failing in his\n\"Satire upon Wit.\" This called forth many sarcastic replies, and\ncritiques on Blackmore's works; such as Brown's \"Epigram occasioned by\nthe news that Sir R----d B----e's paraphrase upon Job was in the\nPress--\"\n\n  \"When Job contending with the devil I saw\n   It did my wonder, not my pity draw;\n   For I concluded that without some trick,\n   A saint at any time could match old Nick.\n   Next came a fiercer fiend upon his back,\n   I mean his spouse, stunning him with her clack,\n   But still I could not pity him, as knowing\n   A crab tree cudgel soon would send her going.\n   But when the quack engaged with Job I spy'd,\n   The Lord have mercy on poor Job I cry'd.\n   What spouse and Satan did attempt in vain\n   The quack will compass with his murdering pen,\n   And on a dunghill leave poor Job again,\n   With impious doggrel he'll pollute his theme,\n   And make the saint against his will blaspheme.\"\n\nUpon the knighting of Sir R----d B----e.\n\n  \"Be not puffed up with knighthood, friend of mine,\n   A merry prince once knighted a Sir-loin,\n   And if to make comparisons were safe\n   An ox deserves it better then a calf.\n   Thy pride and state I value not a rush\n   Thou that art now Knight Phyz, wast once King Ush.\"\n\nBlackmore, who was successively physician to William III. and Queen\nAnne, had been once a schoolmaster.\n\nTom Brown died at the early age of forty. His life was full of\nmisfortunes, but we can scarcely say that he was unhappy, for nothing\ncould conquer his buoyant spirit. At one time he was actually in prison,\nfor what was deemed a libellous attack, but we are told that he obtained\nhis \"enlargement\" from it, upon his writing the following Pindaric\nPetition to the Lords in Council.\n\n             \"Should you order Tho' Brown\n              To be whipped thro' the town\n              For scurvy lampoon,\n              Grave _Southern_ and _Crown_\n              Their pens wou'd lay down;\n  Even D'Urfey himself, and such merry fellows\n  That put their whole trust in tunes and trangdillioes\n  May hang up their harps and themselves on the willows;\n  For if poets are punished for libelling trash\n  John Dryden, tho' sixty, may yet fear the lash.\n              No pension, no praise,\n              Much birch without bays,\n              These are not right ways\n              Our fancy to raise,\n              To the writing of plays\n              And prologues so witty\n              That jirk at the city,\n              And now and then hit\n              Some spark in the pit,\n              So hard and so pat\n              Till he hides with his hat\n              His monstrous cravat.\n              The pulpit alone\n              Can never preach down\n              The fops of the town\n                Then pardon Tho' Brown\n              And let him write on;\n  But if you had rather convert the poor sinner\n  His foul writing mouth may be stopped with a dinner.\n  Give him clothes to his back, some meat and some drink\n  Then clap him close prisoner without pen and ink\n  And your petitioner shall neither pray, write, or think.\"\n\nUnfortunately his pecuniary difficulties were not removed, but\naccompanied him through life. What a strange mixture of gaiety, learning\nand destitution is brought before us, when on a clamorons dun vowing she\nwould not leave him until she had her money, he exclaimed in an\nextempore version of two lines of Martial--\n\n  \"Sextus, thou nothing ow'st, nothing I say!\n   He something owes, that something has to pay.\"\n\nIn an imitation of another epigram of Martial he gives an account of the\nunpromising position of his affairs:--\n\n  \"Without formal petition\n   Thus stands my condition,\n   I am closely blocked up in a garret,\n   Where I scribble and smoke,\n   And sadly invoke\n   The powerful assistance of claret.\n   Four children and a wife\n   'Tis hard on my life,\n   Besides myself and a Muse\n   To be all clothed and fed,\n   Now the times are so dead,\n   By my scribbling of doggrel and news;\n   And what I shall do,\n   I'm a wretch if I know\n   So hard is the fate of a poet,\n   I must either turn rogue,\n   Or what's as bad--pedagogue,\n   And so drudge like a thing that has no wit.\"\n\nHow much are we indebted to the pecuniary embarrassments of poets for\nthe interest we take in them. Who could read sentiment written by a man\nfaring sumptuously every day? Towards the end of his life, Brown became\nacquainted with Lord Dorset, and we read of his once dining with that\nnobleman and finding a note for fifty pounds under his plate. Tom Brown\nseems to have regarded with great contempt his contemporary Tom\nD'Urfey--best known as a composer of sonnets--words and music. He\naddresses to him \"upon his incomparable ballads, called by him Pindaric\nOdes,\" the following acrimonious lines--\n\n  \"Thou cur, half French half English breed,\n   Thou mongrel of Parnassus,\n   To think tall lines, run up to seed,\n   Should ever tamely pass us.\n\n  \"Thou write Pindaricks and be damned\n   Write epigrams for cutlers,\n   None with thy lyricks can be shammed\n   But chambermaids and butlers.\n\n  \"In t'other world expect dry blows;\n   No tears can wash thy stains out,\n   Horace will pluck thee by the nose\n   And Pindar beat thy brains out.\"\n\nSuch unworthy attacks are not unfrequently made by ill-natured literary\nmen. Brown was no doubt jealous of his rival, but Addison's generous\nheart formed a very different estimate of D'Urfey's talent. He says that\nafter having \"made the world merry he hopes they will make him easy\" in\nhis pecuniary affairs, for that although \"Tom\" had written more Odes\nthan Horace, and four times as many Comedies as Terence, he was reduced\nto great difficulties by a set of men who had furnished him with the\naccommodations of life, and would not, as we say, \"be paid with a song.\"\n\"As my friend,\" he continues, \"after the manner of all the old lyrics,\naccompanies his works with his own voice, he has been the delight of the\nmost polite companies and conversations from the beginning of King\nCharles II.'s reign to our present times. Many an honest gentleman has\ngot a reputation in his country by pretending to have been in company\nwith Tom D'Urfey.\" \"I myself remember King Charles II. leaning on Tom\nD'Urfey's shoulder more than once, and humming over a song with him. It\nis certain that monarch was not a little supported by 'Joy to great\nCaesar,' which gave the Whigs such a blow as they were not able to\nrecover that whole reign. My friend afterwards attacked Popery with the\nsame success--he has made use of Italian tunes and Sonatas for promoting\nthe Protestant interest, and turned a considerable part of the Pope's\nmusic against himself.\"\n\nLittle need be added to this eloquent commendation, except that it was\nwritten to obtain patronage for a benefit in behalf of an aged poet and\nfriend. D'Urfey wrote through the reigns of Charles II., James II.,\nWilliam and Anne, into that of George I. His plays, which were thought\nattractive at the time, contained much that was gross, and were\ndeficient in humour and power. Thus, they were soon forgotten, and\nneither he nor his rival Brown were able to reach a point, which would\ngive them a permanent position in literature.\n\nThe following description would have led us to expect something better\nof him, at least in farcical talent[62]--\n\n     \"Mr. D'Urfey generally writes state-plays, and is wonderfully\n     useful to the world in such representations. This method is the\n     same that was used by the old Athenians, to laugh out of\n     countenance or promote opinions among the people. My friend has\n     therefore against this play is acted for his own benefit, made two\n     dances which may be also of an universal benefit. In the first he\n     has represented absolute power in the person of a tall man with a\n     hat and feathers, who gives his first minister who stands just\n     before him a huge kick; the minister gives the kick to the next\n     before; and so to the end of the stage. In this moral and practical\n     jest you are made to understand that there is in an absolute\n     government no gratification, but giving the kick you receive from\n     one above you to one below you. This is performed to a grave and\n     melancholy air; but on a sudden the tune moves quicker, and the\n     whole company fall into a circle and take hands; and then, at a\n     certain sharp note, they move round and kick as kick can. This\n     latter performance he makes to be the representation of a free\n     state; where, if you all mind your steps, you may go round and\n     round very jollily, with a motion pleasant to yourselves and them\n     you dance with: nay, if you put yourselves out, at the worst you\n     only kick and are kicked by friends and equals.\"\n\nBut D'Urfey's short songs and poems were his most successful\nproductions--sometimes he breathed martial strains in honour of\nMarlborough's victories, sometimes formed adulatory addresses to members\nof the Royal Family. His \"Pills to purge Melancholy,\" at times\napproached humour. The following is taken from the \"Banquet of the\nGods,\" and refers to Hermes visiting the Infernal regions--\n\n  \"Fierce Cerberus, who the gate did keep,\n   First with a sop he lays asleep,\n   Then forward goes to th' room of State,\n   Where on a lofty throne of jet,\n   The grizly King of Terrors sate,\n   Discoursing with his Proserpine\n   On things infernally divine.\n   To him the winged Ambassador\n   His message tells, then adds to her\n   How much her mother Ceres mourns\n   In Sicily, till she returns;\n   That now she hoped (the long half-year\n   Being ended) she would see her there,\n   And that instead of shrieks and howls,\n   The harmony of par-boiled souls,\n   She'd now divert with tunes more gay,\n   And go with her to see a play.\"\n\nD'Urfey often introduces fresh and pleasing glimpses of country life. He\nis more happy in this direction than in his humour, which generally\ndrifted away into maudlin and indelicate love-making between\npseudo-Roman Corydons and Phyllises. The following effusion is very\ncharacteristic of the times,--\n\n  \"One _April_ morn, when from the sea\n     _Phoebus_ was just appearing!\n   Damon and Celia young and gay,\n     Long settled Love indearing;\n   Met in a grove to vent their spleen,\n     On parents unrelenting;\n   He bred of _Tory_ race had been,\n     She of the tribe _Dissenting_.\n\n  \"Celia, whose eyes outshone the God,\n     Newly the hills adorning,\n   Told him mamma wou'd be stark mad,\n     She missing prayers that morning;\n   Damon, his arm around her waist,\n     Swore tho' nought should 'em sunder,\n   Shou'd my rough dad know how I'm blest,\n     T'would make him roar like thunder.\n\n  \"Great ones whom proud ambition blinds,\n     By faction still support it,\n   Or where vile money taints the mind,\n     They for convenience court it;\n   But mighty Love, that scorns to show,\n     Party should raise his glory;\n   Swears he'll exalt a vassal true,\n     Let it be _Whig_ or _Tory_.\"\n\nThe following is a song from \"The Country Miss and her Furbelow.\"\n\n  \"Celladon, when spring came on,\n   Woo'd Sylvia in a grove,\n   Both gay and young, and still he sung\n   The sweet Delights of Love.\n   Wedded joys in girls and boys,\n   And pretty chat of this and that,\n   The honey kiss, and charming bliss\n   That crowns the marriage bed;\n   He snatched her hand, she blushed and fanned\n   And seemed as if afraid,\n   'Forbear!' she crys, 'youre fawning lyes,\n   I've vowed to die a maid.'\n\n  \"Celladon at that began\n   To talk of apes in hell,\n   And what was worse, the odious curse\n   Of growing old and stale.\n   Loss of bloom, when wrinkles come,\n   And offers kind when none will mind,\n   The rosie joy, and sparkling eye\n   Grown faded and decayed,\n   At which, when known, she changed her tone,\n   And to the shepherd said,\n   'Dear swain, give o'er, I'll think once more,\n   Before I'll die a maid.'\"\n\nD'Urfey was a disciple of the \"gentle art.\" Addison says \"I must not\nomit that my friend angles for a trout, the best of any man in England.\nMayflies come in late this season, or I myself should have had one of\nhis hooking.\" We can thus understand his enthusiastic commendation of\nfishing--\n\n  \"Of all the world's enjoyments,\n   That ever valu'd were,\n   There's none of our employments,\n   With fishing can compare;\n   Some preach, some write,\n   Some swear, some fight,\n   All golden lucre courting,\n   But fishing still bears off the bell\n   For profit or for sporting.\n\n  \"_Chorus._--Then who a jolly fisherman, a fisherman will be?\n    His throat must wet,\n    Just like his net,\n    To keep out cold at sea.\n\n  \"The country squire loves running\n   A pack of well-mouthed hounds,\n   Another fancies gunning\n   For wild ducks in his grounds;\n   This hunts, that fowls,\n   This hawks, Dick bowls,\n   No greater pleasure wishing,\n   But Tom that tells what sport excels,\n   Gives all the praise to fishing.\n     Then who, &c.\n\n  \"A good _Westphalia gammon_\n   Is counted dainty fare;\n   But what is't to a salmon\n   Just taken from the Ware;\n   Wheat-ears and quailes,\n   Cocks, snipes and rayles,\n   Are prized while season's lasting,\n   But all must stoop to crawfish soup,\n   Or I've no skill in casting.\n     Then who, &c.\n\n  \"And tho' some envious wranglers,\n   To jeer us will make bold,\n   And laugh at patient anglers,\n   Who stand so long i' th' cold;\n   They wait on Miss,\n   We wait on this,\n   And think it easie labour;\n   And if you know, fish profits too,\n   Consult our _Holland_ neighbour.\n     Then who, &c.\"\n\nD'Urfey was a favourite with Queen Anne, and many of his poems were\nwritten at Knole, Penshurst, and other seats of the nobility.\n\nUp to the time we have now reached, we have not had the opportunity of\nenrolling the name of a lady among our humorists. Although in society\nso many of the fair sparkle and overflow with quick and graceful\nraillery, we find that when they come to impress their thoughts upon\npaper they are invariably sentimental. Authors are often a contrast to\ntheir writings, but no doubt the female mind is generally of a poetical\ncomplexion. Thus, in the early part of the last century we meet with\nonly three lady humorists, Mrs. Manley, mostly noted for her scandalous\nstories: Mrs. Behn, whose humour was crude, chiefly that of rough\nharlequinade and gross immorality, and Mrs. Centlivre. Early\nopportunities of study were afforded to the last in a remarkable way.\nWhen flying from the anger of her stepmother, she met Anthony Hammond,\nthen at Cambridge, and went to live with him at the University,\ndisguised in boy's clothes. Remarkable for her beauty, she married, when\nonly fifteen, a nephew of Sir Stephen Fox, and upon his death at\nsixteen, a Captain Carrol, who was killed in a duel. It was then partly\nowing to pecuniary embarrassments that she went on the stage and wrote\nplays--the first of her dramas appearing in her twentieth year. So great\nwas the prejudice then against lady writers, that at her publisher's\nsuggestion her first production was anonymous. But those, who began by\nderiding her pretensions, ended by acknowledging her merit; she became\na great favourite and constant writer for the stage, and an intimate\nfriend of Farquhar and Steele. There is an absence of indelicacy in her\nplays, but not a little farcical humour, especially in the character of\n\"Marplot\" in \"The Busybody,\" and of rich \"Mrs. Dowdy\" with her vulgarity\nand admirers in \"The Platonic Lady.\" She often adopts the tone of the\nday in ridiculing learned ladies. In one place she speaks as if even at\nthat time the founding of a college for ladies was in contemplation--\n\n     _Lady Reveller._ Why in such haste, Cousin Valeria?\n\n     _Valeria._ Oh! dear Cousin, don't stop me; I shall lose the finest\n     insect for dissection, a huge flesh fly, which Mr. Lovely sent me\n     just now, and opening the box to try the experiment, away it flew.\n\n     _Lady._ I am glad the poor fly escaped; will you never be weary of\n     these whimsies?\n\n     _Val._ Whimsies! Natural Philosophy a whimsy! Oh! the unlearned\n     world!\n\n     _Lady._ Ridiculous learning!\n\n     _Mrs. Alpiew._ Ridiculous indeed for women. Philosophy suits our sex\n     as jack-boots would do.\n\n     _Val._ Custom would bring them as much in fashion as furbelows, and\n     practice would make us as valiant as e'er a hero of them all; the\n     resolution is in the mind. Nothing can enslave that.\n\n     _Lady._ My stars! This girl will be mad--that's certain.\n\n     _Val._ Mad! So Nero banished philosophers from _Rome_, and the\n     first discoverer of the _Antipodes_ was condemned for a heretic.\n\n     _Lady._ In my conscience, Alpiew, this pretty creature's spoiled.\n     Well, cousin, might I advise you should bestow your fortune in\n     founding a college for the study of philosophy, where none but\n     women should be admitted; and to immortalize your name, they\n     should be called _Valerians_;--ha! ha! ha!\n\n     _Val._ What you make a jest of, I'd execute, were fortune in my\n     power.\n\nHer notices of married life are interesting, as she had great\nexperience, having taken for her third husband Mr. Centlivre, cook to\nQueen Anne. In \"The Wonder, a Woman keeps a Secret,\" we have the\nfollowing dialogue upon this important subject:\n\n     _Col. Britton._ 'Egad, I think I must e'en marry, and sacrifice my\n     body for the good of my soul; wilt thou recommend me to a wife,\n     then--one that is willing to exchange her moydores for English\n     Liberty--ha friend?\n\n     _Fred._ She must be very handsome, I suppose?\n\n     _Col._ The handsomer the better, but be sure she has a nose.\n\n     _Fred._ Ay! ay! and some gold.\n\n     _Col._ Oh, very much gold. I shall never be able to swallow the\n     matrimonial pill, if it be not well gilded.\n\n     _Fred._ Puh, beauty will make it slide down nimbly.\n\n     _Col._ At first, perhaps it may, but the second or third dose will\n     choke me. I confess, Frederick, women are the prettiest playthings\n     in nature; but gold, substantial gold gives 'em the air, the mien,\n     the shape, the grace and beauty of a goddess.\n\n     _Fred._ And has not gold the same divinity in their eyes, Colonel?\n\n     _Col._ Too often--money is the very god of marriage, the poets\n     dress him in a saffron robe by which they figure out the golden\n     Deity, and his lighted torch blazons those mighty charms, which\n     encourage us to list under his banner.\n\nIn \"The Artifice\" we have a matrimonial contention:\n\n     _Lucy._ If you two are one flesh, how come you to have different\n     minds, pray, Sir?\n\n     _Watchit._ Because the mind has nothing to do with the flesh.\n\n     _Mrs. W._ That's your mistake, Sir; the body is governed by the\n     mind. So much philosophy I know.\n\n     _Wat._ Yes, yes; I believe you understand natural philosophy very\n     well, wife; I doubt not the flesh has got the better of the spirit\n     in you. Look ye, madam! every man's wife is his vineyard; you are\n     mine, therefore I wall you in. Ods budikins, ne'er a coxcomb in the\n     kingdom shall plant as much as a primrose in my ground.\n\n     _Mrs. W._ I am sure your management will produce nothing but\n     thorns.\n\n     _Wat._ Nay, every wife is a thorn in her husband's side. Your whole\n     sex is a kind of sweet-briar, and he who meddles with it is sure to\n     prick his fingers.\n\n     _Lucy._ That is when you handle us too roughly.\n\n     _Mrs. W._ You are a kind of rue: neither good for smell nor taste.\n\n     _Wat._ But very wholesome, wife.\n\n     _Mrs. W._ Ay, so they say of all bitters, yet I would not be\n     obliged to feed on gentian and wormwood.\n\nSome subjects are peculiarly suitable for light female humour. In \"The\nBeau's Duel, or a Soldier for the Ladies,\" we have the following\nsoliloquy by Sir William Mode, a fop, as he stands in his night-gown\nlooking into his glass:\n\n     This rising early is the most confounded thing on earth, nothing so\n     destructive to the complexion. Blister me, how I shall look in the\n     side box to-night, wretchedly upon my soul. [_looking in the glass\n     all the while._] Yet it adds something of a languishing air, not\n     altogether unbecoming, and by candle light may do mischief; but I\n     must stay at home to recover some colour, and that may be as well\n     laid on too; so 'tis resolved I will go. Oh 'tis unspeakable\n     pleasure to be in the side box, or bow'd to from the stage, and be\n     distinguished by the beaux of quality, to have a lord fly into\n     one's arms, and kiss one as amorously as a mistress. Then tell me\n     aloud, that he dined with his Grace and that he and the ladies were\n     so fond of me, they talked of nothing else. Then says I, \"My lord,\n     his Grace does me too much honour.\" Then, my lord, \"This play 'tis\n     not worth seeing; we havn't been seen at t'other house to-night;\n     and the ladies will be disappointed not to receive a bow from Sir\n     William.\" \"He, he, he,\" says I, \"my lord, I wait upon your\n     lordship.\" \"Then,\" says my lord, \"lead the way Sir William.\" \"O,\n     pray my lord, I beg your lordship's pardon.\" \"Nay, Sir William.\"\n     \"Pray my lord,\" (_Enter La Riviere, Sir W's valet_). \"Pray Sir\n     William.\" \"Pray my lord.\"\n\n     (_As he says this several times La Riviere enters behind him, but\n     as he designs to pass by him, is still prevented by his turning\n     from one side to t'other, as he acts himself for the lord._)\n\n     _La Riv._ Hey! What the devil is he conjuring and talking with\n     invisible lords? He's in his airs, some pleasing imagination\n     hurries him out of his senses. But I must to my cue. Hem! hem! Sir,\n     dere be one two gentlemen below come to wait upon you dis morning,\n     sal I show dem up?\n\n     _Sir. W._ No, my lord, by no means, I know better things--\n\n     _La Riv._ What then am I a lord? Egad I never knew my quality\n     before. (_Aside._)\n\n     _Sir W._ Pshaw! this blockhead has rous'd me from the prettiest\n     entertainment in the world (_Aside_). Well, what would you, Sir?\n\n     _La Riv._ I voo'd tell you, Sir, dere be one two gentlemen wait\n     upon you.\n\n     _Sir W._ And let 'em wait till I have done. I had a thousand fine\n     things to say on that occasion, but this rude fellow has frightened\n     'em all out of my head. (_Aside._) Well, since my better diversion\n     is over, show 'em up.\n\nIn \"The Wonder\" we have an amusing scene between Lissardo, servant to\nFelix, and Flora, maid to Violante. The former had been very sweet upon\nthe latter--telling her that his \"chaps watered for a kiss,\" and that\n\"he would revenge himself on her lips;\" but a change comes over him on\nhis being presented by Violante with a ring to be worn for his master's\nsake.\n\n     _Lissardo._ I shall, Madam, (_puts on the ring._) Methinks a\n     diamond ring is a vast addition to the little finger of a\n     gentleman. (_Admiring his hand._)\n\n     _Flora._ That ring must be mine. Well, Lissardo, what haste you\n     make to pay off arrears now? Look how the fellow stands!\n\n     _Liss._ Egad! methinks I have a very pretty hand--and very\n     white--and the shape! Faith! I never minded it so much before! In\n     my opinion it is a very fine shaped hand, and becomes a diamond\n     ring as well as the first grandee's in Portugal.\n\n     _Flo._ The man's transported! Is this your love? This your\n     impatience?\n\n     _Liss._ (_Takes snuff._) Now in my mind, I take snuff with a very\n     jaunty air. Well, I am persuaded I want nothing but a coach and a\n     title to make me a very fine gentleman.\n\n     (_Struts about._)\n\n     _Flo._ Sweet Mr. Lissardo, (_curtseying_,) if I may presume to\n     speak to you, without affronting your little finger--\n\n     _Liss._ Do so, Madam, I ask your pardon. Is it to me or to the ring\n     you direct your discourse, Madam?\n\n     _Flo._ Madam! Good lack! how much a diamond ring improves one!\n\n     _Liss._ Why, tho' I say it, I can carry myself as well as anybody.\n     But what wert thou going to say, child?\n\n     _Flo._ Why, I was going to say, that I fancy you had best let me\n     keep that ring; it will be a very pretty wedding-ring.\n\n     _Liss._ Would it not? Humph! Ah! But--but--but--I believe I shan't\n     marry yet a while.\n\n     _Flo._ You shan't, you say; very well! I suppose you design that\n     ring for Inis?\n\n     _Liss._ No, no, I never bribe an old acquaintance. Perhaps I might\n     let it sparkle in the eyes of a stranger a little, till we come to\n     a right understanding. But then, like all other mortal things, it\n     would return from whence it came.\n\n     _Flo._ Insolent! Is that your manner of dealing?\n\n     _Liss._ With all but thee--kiss me, you little rogue, you.\n\n     (_Hugging her._)\n\n     _Flo._ Little rogue! Prithee, fellow, don't be so familiar,\n     (_pushing him away_,) if I mayn't keep your ring, I can keep my\n     kisses.\n\n     _Liss._ You can, you say! Spoke with the air of a chambermaid.\n\n     _Flo._ Reply'd with the spirit of a serving-man.\n\nD'Urfey is said to have been the first, and Carey the last of those who\nat this period united the professions of musician, dramatist and song\nwriter. The latter was the natural son of the Marquis of Halifax, who\npresented the crown to William III. He wrote the popular song \"Sally in\nour Alley,\" and ridiculed Ambrose Philips in a poem called \"Namby\nPamby.\" Overcome either by embarrassed circumstances, or the envy of\nrivals, he died by his own hand in 1743. He has much that is clever\nmingled with extravagant fancies. Most of his songs are amorous, though\nnever indelicate. Some are for drinking bouts.\n\n  \"Come all ye jolly Bucchanals\n   That love to tope good wine,\n   Let's offer up a hogshead\n   Unto our master's shrine,\n   Come, let us drink and never shrink,\n   For I'll tell you the reason why,\n   It's a great sin to leave a house till we've drunk the cellar dry.\n   In times of old I was a fool,\n   I drank the water clear,\n   But Bacchus took me from that rule,\n   He thought 'twas too severe;\n   He filled a bumper to the brim\n   And bade me take a sup,\n   But had it been a gallon pot,\n   By Jove I'd tossed it up.\n   And ever since that happy time,\n   Good wine has been my cheer,\n   Now nothing puts me in a swoon\n   But water or small beer.\n   Then let us tope about, my lads,\n   And never flinch nor fly,\n   But fill our skins brimfull of wine,\n   And drain the bottles dry.\"\n\nMany of his plays were burlesque operas, introducing songs. In one of\nthem the \"Dragon of Wantley,\" we have--\n\n  \"Zeno, Plato, Aristotle,\n   All were lovers of the bottle;\n   Poets, Painters, and Musicians,\n   Churchmen, Lawyers, and Physicians;\n     All admire a pretty lass,\n     All require a cheerful glass,\n     Every pleasure has its season,\n     Love and drinking are no treason.\"\n\nHe was fond of jocose love-ditties, such as:\n\n  \"Pigs shall not be\n   So fond as we;\n   We will out-coo the turtle-dove,\n     Fondly toying,\n     Still enjoying,\n   Sporting sparrows we'll outlove.\"\n\nAmong his successful farces is the well-known Chrononhotonthologos\nwritten to ridicule some bombastic tragedies of the day.\nChrononhotonthologos is king of Queerummania, Bombardinian is his\ngeneral, while his courtiers are Aldiborontiphoscophornio and Rigdum\nFunnidos. The following gives a good specimen of his ballad style.\n\n  \"O! London is a dainty place,\n   A great and gallant city,\n   For all the streets are paved with gold,\n   And all the folks are witty.\n\n  \"And there's your lords and ladies fine,\n   That ride in coach-and-six,\n   Who nothing drink but claret wine,\n   And talk of politicks.\n\n  \"And there's your beauxs with powdered clothes,\n   Bedaubed from head to shin;\n   Their pocket-holes adorned with gold,\n   But not one sous within.\"\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER X.\n\nVanbrugh--Colley Cibber--Farquhar.\n\n\nVanbrugh--a man of Dutch extraction as his name suggests--was one of the\nfew whom literature led, though indirectly, to fortune. He became first\nknown as a playwriter, but also having studied architecture conceived\nthe idea of combining his two arts by the construction of a grand\ntheatre on the site of the present Haymarket Opera House. The enterprise\nwas doomed to be one of the many failures from which that ill-starred\nspot has become remarkable, and Vanbrugh after vainly attempting to\nsupport his undertaking by the exertion of all his dramatic power,\ndetermined to quit literature altogether, and devoted himself to the\nmore remunerative profession. In this he was successful--he built\nBlenheim, Castle Howard, and half-a-dozen of the stately halls of\nEngland. We may suppose that he acquired wealth, for he built several\nhouses for himself, and in them seems to have exhibited his whimsical\nfancy. One which he built near Whitehall was called by Swift \"a thing\nlike a goose pie,\" and he called that which he built for himself, near\nGreenwich, \"the mince pie.\"\n\nThere is a considerable amount of rough humour in Vanbrugh, and some\nindelicacy, more like that of Aristophanes than of English writers. We\nfind one gentleman calling another \"Old Satan,\" and fashionable ladies\nindulging freely in oaths. A nobleman tells a lady, before her husband,\nthat he is desperately in love with her, \"strike me speechless;\" to\nwhich she replies by giving him a box on the ear, and her husband by\ndrawing his sword. Everything bespeaks a low and primitive state of\nsociety; but we must also remember that while something strong was\nrequired, it was not then thought objectionable that the scenes of the\ndrama should be very different from those of real life.\n\nThe following are from the \"Relapse,\" the first play that made Vanbrugh\nknown, and which we might therefore expect to be one of his most\nhumorous comedies. Here we have a good caricature of the fops of the\nday. In the first, Lord Foppington in his fashionable twang, gives us\nhis views, and sketches his mode of life.\n\n     _Amanda._ Well I must own I think books the best entertainment in\n     the world.\n\n     _Lord F._ I am so much of your ladyship's mind, madam, that I have\n     a private gallery where I walk sometimes, which is furnished with\n     nothing but books and looking glasses. Madam, I have gilded 'em so\n     prettily, before G--, it is the most entertaining thing in the\n     world to walk and look upon 'em.\n\n     _Amanda._ Nay, I love a neat library too, but 'tis I think the\n     inside of a book should recommend it most to us.\n\n     _Lord F._ That, I must confess, I am not altogether so fond of. For\n     to my mind the inside of a book is to entertain oneself with the\n     forced product of another man's brain. Now, I think a man of\n     quality and breeding may be much better diverted with the natural\n     sprouts of his own. But to say the truth, madam, let a man love\n     reading never so well, when once he comes to know this town, he\n     finds so many better ways of passing away the four-and-twenty hours\n     that 'twere ten thousand pities he should consume his time in that.\n     For example, madam, my life, my life, madam, is a perpetual stream\n     of pleasure that glides through such a variety of entertainments, I\n     believe the wisest of our ancestors never had the least conception\n     of any of 'em. I rise, madam, about ten o'clock. I don't rise\n     sooner because it is the worst thing in the world for the\n     complexion, not that I pretend to be a beau, but a man must\n     endeavour to look wholesome, lest he make so nauseous a figure in\n     the side box, the ladies should be compelled to turn their eyes\n     upon the play. So at ten o'clock I say I rise. Now, if I find it a\n     good day I resolve to take a turn in the park, and see the fine\n     women; so huddle on my clothes and get dressed by one. If it be\n     nasty weather I take a turn in the chocolate house, where as you\n     walk, madam, you have the prettiest prospect in the world; you have\n     looking glasses all round you. But I'm afraid I tire the company.\n\n     _Berinthia._ Not at all; pray go on.\n\n     _Lord F._ Why then, ladies, from thence I go to dinner at Lacket's,\n     where you are so nicely and delicately served that, stab my vitals!\n     they shall compose you a dish no bigger than a saucer, shall come\n     to fifty shillings. Between eating my dinner (and washing my mouth,\n     ladies) I spend my time till I go to the play, when till nine\n     o'clock I entertain myself with looking upon the company; and\n     usually dispose of one hour more in leading them out. So there's\n     twelve of the four-and-twenty pretty well over. The other twelve,\n     madam, are disposed of in two articles, in the first four I toast\n     myself drunk, and t'other eight I sleep myself sober again. Thus,\n     ladies, you see my life is an eternal round O of delight.\n\nLord Foppington's interview with his Court artists is well described--\n\n     _Tom Fashion._ There's that fop now, has not by nature wherewithal\n     to move a cook-maid, and by that time these fellows have done with\n     him, egad he shall melt down a countess! But now for my reception;\n     I'll engage it shall be as cold a one as a courtier's to his\n     friend, who comes to put him in mind of his promise.\n\n     _Lord F._ (_to his tailor._) Death and eternal tortures! Sir, I say\n     the packet's too high by a foot.\n\n     _Tailor._ My lord, if it had been an inch lower it would not have\n     held your lordship's packet-handkerchief.\n\n     _Lord F._ Rat my packet-handkerchief! have not I a page to carry\n     it? You may make him a packet up to his chin a purpose for it; but\n     I will not have mine come so near my face.\n\n     _Tailor._ 'Tis not for me to dispute your lordship's fancy.\n\n     _Lord F._ Look you, Sir, I shall never be reconciled to this\n     nauseous packet, therefore pray get me another suit with all manner\n     of expedition, for this is my eternal salvation. Mrs. Calico, are\n     not you of my mind?\n\n     _Mrs. Cal._ O, directly, my lord! It can never be too low.\n\n     _Lord F._ You are positively in the right on't, for the packet\n     becomes no part of the body but the knee.\n\n     (_Exit tailor._)\n\n     _Mrs. Cal._ I hope your lordship is pleased with your steenkirk.\n\n     _Lord F._ In love with it, stap my vitals! bring your bill, you\n     shall be paid to-morrow.\n\n     _Mrs. C._ I humbly thank your honour. (_Exit._)\n\n     _Lord F._ Hark thee, shoemaker! these shoes an't ugly but they\n     don't fit me.\n\n     _Shoemaker._ My lord, methinks they fit you very well.\n\n     _Lord F._ They hurt me just below the instep.\n\n     _Shoe._ (_feeling his foot_) My lord, they don't hurt you there.\n\n     _Lord F._ I tell thee they pinch me execrably.\n\n     _Shoe._ My lord, if they pinch you I'll be bound to be hanged,\n     that's all.\n\n     _Lord F._ Why wilt thou undertake to persuade me that I cannot\n     feel?\n\n     _Shoe._ Your lordship may please to feel what you think fit; but\n     the shoe does not hurt you. I think I understand my trade.\n\n     _Lord F._ Now by all that's great and powerful thou art an\n     incomprehensible coxcomb! but thou makest good shoes and so I'll\n     bear with thee.\n\nTom Fashion personates his brother, Lord Foppington, and goes down to\nthe country seat of Sir Tunbelly Clumpsey, in hope of marrying his rich\ndaughter. The old Squire at first turns out to meet him with guns and\npitchforks, but changes to the utmost servility on hearing that he is a\nlord. It is now Tom's object to have the marriage ceremony performed\nbefore he is discovered.\n\n     _Fashion._ Your father, I suppose you know, has resolved to make me\n     happy in being your husband, and I hope I may depend upon your\n     consent to perform what he desires.\n\n     _Miss Hoyden._ Sir, I never disobey my father in anything but\n     eating of green gooseberries.\n\n     _Fash._ So good a daughter must needs be an admirable wife; I am\n     therefore impatient till you are mine, and hope you will so far\n     consider the violence of my love as not to defer my happiness so\n     long as your father designs it.\n\n     _Miss H._ Pray, my lord, how long is that?\n\n     _Fash._ Madam, a thousand years--a whole week.\n\n     _Miss H._ A week! why I shall be an old woman by that time.\n\n     _Fash._ And I an old man.\n\n     _Miss H._ Why I thought it was to-morrow morning as soon as I was\n     up, I am sure nurse told me so.\n\n     _Fash._ And it shall be to-morrow morning still, if you'll consent.\n\n     _Miss H._ If I'll consent! Why I thought I was to obey you as my\n     husband.\n\n     _Fash._ That's when we're married, till then I am to obey you.\n\n     _Miss H._ Why then if we are to take it by turns it's the same\n     thing. I'll obey you now, and when we are married you shall obey\n     me.\n\n     _Fash._ With all my heart; but I doubt we must get nurse on our\n     side, or we shall hardly prevail with the chaplain.\n\n     _Miss H._ O Lord, I can tell you a way how to persuade her to\n     anything.\n\n     _Fash._ How's that?\n\n     _Miss H._ Why tell her she's a wholesome comely woman, and give her\n     half-a-crown.\n\n     _Fash._ Nay, if that will do, she shall have half a score of them.\n\n     _Miss H._ O gemini! for half that she'd marry you herself. I'll run\n     and call her.\n\n     _Fash._ So matters go swimmingly. This is a rare girl i' faith. I\n     shall have a fine time on't with her in London, I'm much mistaken\n     if she don't prove a March hare all the year round. What a\n     scampering chase will she on't, when she finds the whole kennel of\n     beaux at her tail! hey to the park, and the play, and the church\n     and the devil; she'll show them sport, I'll warrant 'em. But no\n     matter, she brings me an estate that will afford me a separate\n     maintenance.\n\nThe following from \"The Provoked Husband,\" gives a good specimen of\nsocial hypocrisy.\n\n     _Servant._ Madam, here's my Lady Fanciful to wait upon your\n     ladyship.\n\n     _Lady Brute._ Shield me, kind heaven! what an inundation of\n     impertinence is here coming upon us!\n\nAt the end of this unwelcome visit, we have the following hit at the\nceremonious politeness then fashionable.\n\n     _Lady B._ What going already, madam.\n\n     _Lady Fan._ I must beg you excuse me this once, for really I have\n     eighteen visits to return this afternoon. So you see I am\n     importuned by the women as well as by the men.\n\n     _Bel._ (_aside_). And she's quits with 'em both.\n\n     _Lady F._ Nay, you shan't go one step out of the room.\n\n     _Lady B._ Indeed, I'll wait upon you down.\n\n     _Lady F._ No sweet, Lady Brute, you know I swoon at ceremony.\n\n     _Lady B._ Pray give me leave.\n\n     _Lady F._ You know I wont.\n\n     _Lady B._ Indeed I must.\n\n     _Lady F._ Indeed you shan't.\n\n     _Lady B._ Indeed I will.\n\n     _Lady F._ Indeed you shan't.\n\n     _Lady B._ Indeed I will.\n\n     _Lady F._ Indeed you shan't, indeed, indeed, indeed you shan't.\n     (_Exit running._)\n\nThe aversions and disputes of husbands and wives furnish the subject of\nsome of his humour. Sir John Brute says:--\n\n     \"Sure if women had been ready created, the devil instead of being\n     kicked down in hell had been married.\"\n\n     _Lady Brute._ Are you afraid of being in love, Sir?\n\n     _Heartfree._ I should if there were any danger of it.\n\n     _Lady B._ Pray, why so?\n\n     _Heart._ Because I always had an aversion to being used like a dog.\n\n     _Belinda._ Why truly, men in love are seldom used much better.\n\n     _Lady B._ But were you never in love, Sir?\n\n     _Heart._ No, I thank heaven, madam.\n\n     _Bel._ Pray, where got you your learning then?\n\n     _Heart._ From other people's expense.\n\n     _Bel._ That's being a spunger, Sir, which is scarce honest. If\n     you'd buy some experience with your own money, as 'twould be\n     fairlier got, so 'twould stick longer by you.\n\n            *       *       *       *       *\n\n     _Berinthia._ Ah, Amanda, it's a delicious thing to be a young\n     widow!\n\n     _Aman._ You'll hardly make me think so.\n\n     _Ber._ Phu! because you are in love with your husband; but that is\n     not every woman's case.\n\n     _Aman._ I hope 'twas yours at least.\n\n     _Ber._ Mine, say ye? Now I have a great mind to tell you a lie, but\n     I should do it so awkwardly you'd find me out.\n\n     _Aman._ Then e'en speak the truth.\n\n     _Ber._ Shall I? Then after all, I did love him, Amanda, as a man\n     does penance.\n\n     _Aman._ Why did you not refuse to marry him, then?\n\n     _Ber._ Because my mother would have whipped me.\n\n     _Aman._ How did you live together?\n\n     _Ber._ Like man and wife--asunder. He loved the country, I the\n     town. He hawks and hounds, I coaches and equipage. He eating and\n     drinking, I carding and playing. He the sound of a horn, I the\n     squeak of a fiddle. Whenever we met we gave one another the spleen.\n\n     _Aman._ But tell me one thing truly and sincerely.\n\n     _Ber._ What's that?\n\n     _Aman._ Notwithstanding all these jars, did not his death at last\n     extremely trouble you?\n\n     _Ber._ O, yes. Not that my present pangs were so very violent, but\n     the after pangs were intolerable. I was forced to wear a beastly\n     widow's band a twelvemonth for 't.\n\nIn the \"Journey to London,\" written at the end of Vanbrugh's life, and\nnot finished, there is a very amusing account of the manner in which a\ncountry squire and family travelled up to London in the seventeenth\ncentury.\n\n     _James._ They have added two cart-horses to the four old mares,\n     because my lady will have it said she came to town in her\n     coach-and-six; and ha! ha! heavy George, the ploughman, rides\n     postilion!\n\n     _Uncle Richard._ Very well; the journey begins as it should\n     do--James!\n\n     _James._ Sir!\n\n     _Uncle R._ Dost know whether they bring all the children with them?\n\n     _James._ Only Squire Humphry and Miss Betty, Sir; the other six are\n     put to board at half-a-crown a week a head with Joan Growse, at\n     Smoke-dunghill Farm.\n\n     _Uncle R._ The Lord have mercy upon all good folks! What work will\n     these people make! Dost know when they'll be here?\n\n     _James._ John says, Sir, they'd have been here last night, but that\n     the old wheezy-belly horse tired, and the two fore-wheels came\n     crash down at once in Waggon-rut Lane. Sir, they were cruelly\n     loaden, as I understand. My lady herself, he says, laid on four\n     mail trunks, besides the great deal-box, which fat Tom sat upon\n     behind.\n\n     _Uncle R._ So.\n\n     _James._ Then within the coach there was Sir Francis, my lady, the\n     great fat lap-dog, Squire Humphry, Miss Betty, my lady's maid, Mrs.\n     Handy, and Doll Tripe, the cook--but she puked with sitting\n     backward, so they mounted her into the coach-box.\n\n     _Uncle R._ Very well.\n\n     _James._ Then, Sir, for fear of a famine before they should get to\n     the baiting-place, there was such baskets of plum-cake, Dutch\n     gingerbread, Cheshire cheese, Naples biscuits, maccaroons, neats'\n     tongues, and cold boiled beef; and in case of sickness, such\n     bottles of usquebaugh, black-cherry brandy, cinnamon water, sack,\n     tent, and strong beer, as made the old coach crack again.\n\n     _Uncle R._ Well said!\n\n     _James._ And for defence of this good cheer, and my lady's little\n     pearl necklace, there was the family basket-hilt sword, the great\n     Turkish cimiter, the old blunder-buss, a good bag of bullets, and a\n     great horn of gunpowder.\n\n     _Uncle R._ Admirable!\n\nVanbrugh's friend, Colley Cibber, was also of foreign origin. His father\nwas a native of Holstein, and coming over to England before the\nRestoration, is known as having executed the two figures of lunatics,\nfor the gates of Bethlehem Hospital. Colley commenced life as an actor\nand playwriter, and Vanbrugh was so pleased with his \"Love's Last Shift,\nor the Fool of Fashion,\" that he wrote an improved version of it in \"The\nRelapse.\" Thus Sir Novelty Fashion was developed into Lord Foppington,\nand Vanbrugh, who patronized Cibber, employed him to act the character.\nHe was an exception to the rule that a good playwriter is not a good\nperformer. In Cibber, we especially mark the Spanish element, which then\ntinged the drama, and although somewhat prosy and sententious, he is\nfertile and entertaining in his love intrigues. Of real humour, he seems\nto have no gift--some of his best attempts referring to such common\nfailures as sometimes occur at hotels. We have in \"She wou'd, and she\nwou'd not,\"\n\n     _Host._ Did you call, gentlemen?\n\n     _Trapparti._ Yes, and bawl too, Sir. Here the gentlemen are almost\n     famished, and nobody comes near 'em. What have you in the house now\n     that will be ready presently?\n\n     _Host._ You may have what you please, Sir.\n\n     _Hypolita._ Can you get us a partridge?\n\n     _Host._ We have no partridges; but we'll get you what you please in\n     a moment. We have a very good neck of mutton, Sir, if you please,\n     it shall be clapt down in a moment.\n\n     _Hyp._ Have you any pigeons or chickens?\n\n     _Host._ Truly, Sir, we have no fowl in the house at present; if you\n     please, you may have anything else in a moment.\n\n     _Hyp._ Then, prithee, get us some young rabbits.\n\n     _Host._ Upon my word, Sir, rabbits are so scarce, they are not to\n     be had for money.\n\n     _Trap._ Have you any fish?\n\n     _Host._ Fish! Sir; I dressed yesterday the finest dish that ever\n     came upon a table; I am sorry we have none, Sir; but, if you\n     please, you may have anything else in a moment.\n\n     _Trap._ Hast thou nothing but Anything else in the house?\n\n     _Host._ Very good mutton, Sir.\n\n     _Hyp._ Prithee, get us a breast, then.\n\n     _Host._ Breast! Don't you love the neck, Sir?\n\n     _Hyp._ Ha' ye nothing in the house but the neck?\n\n     _Host._ Really, Sir, we don't use to be so unprovided, but at\n     present we have nothing else left.\n\n     _Trap._ Faith, Sir, I don't know but a Nothing else may be very\n     good meat, when Anything else is not to be had.\n\nSometimes there is a little smartness in the dialogue, and in the\n\"Careless Husband,\" Lord Foppington uses such strange expletives as \"Sun\nburn me,\" \"Stop my breath,\" \"Set my blood.\" But the greater part of any\namusement that there is, depends, as in the Roman Comedy, upon the\ntricks of low-minded mercenary servants.\n\nAlthough neither of the two last-named writers was English by descent,\nthey were both so by adoption, and the same may be said of the next\nauthor, Farquhar, who was born at Londonderry in 1678, but whose Irish\ncharacters want the charm of the pure national comicality. He was the\nson of a clergyman who sent him to the University, but his taste being\naverse to the prescribed course of study, he left it, and became an\nactor. Want of voice soon excluded him from the stage, and he entered\nthe army--a profession which we might conclude, from the experiences of\nWycherley and Vanbrugh, was somewhat favourable for the cultivation of\ndramatic talent. The constant companionship of men of wild and fanciful\ndispositions, the leisure for observing their talents and peculiarities,\nand the perpetual demand for the exercise of light repartee, would all\ntend to furnish effective materials for the stage. Farquhar soon\nmarried, and his poverty, with an increasing family, led to his\nproducing a play nearly every year from 1703 to 1707. Finally he sold\nout, and was in deep distress. Speaking of his condition with his\naccustomed gaiety, he says:--\n\n     \"I have very little estate, but what is under the circumference of\n     my hat, and should I by perchance come to lose my head, I should\n     not be worth a groat.\"\n\nHe thus sketches his mental peculiarities:--\n\n     \"As to my mind, which in most men wears as many changes as their\n     body, so in me 'tis generally drest like my person, in black.\n     Melancholy is its every-day apparel; and it has hitherto found few\n     holidays to make it change its clothes. In short, my constitution\n     is very splenetic and yet very amorous, both which I endeavour to\n     hide lest the former should offend others, and that the latter\n     might incommode myself; and my reason is so vigilant in restraining\n     these two failings, that I am taken for an easy-natured man with my\n     own sex, and an ill-natured clown by yours.\"\n\nFarquhar was very fond of jesting about his own misfortunes, and perhaps\nthe following from \"Love in a Bottle,\" exhibits a scene in which he had\nbeen himself an actor in real life.\n\n     _Widow Bullfinch._ Mr. Lyric, what do you mean by all this? Here\n     you have lodged two years in my house, promised me eighteen-pence a\n     week for your lodging, and I have never received eighteen\n     farthings, not the value of _that_, Mr. Lyric, (_snaps her\n     fingers._) You always put me off with telling me of your play, your\n     play! Sir, you shall play no more with me: I'm in earnest.\n\n     _Lyric._ There's more trouble in a play than you imagine, Madam.\n\n     _Bull._ There's more trouble with a lodger than you think, Mr.\n     Lyric.\n\n     _Lyric._ First there's the decorum of time.\n\n     _Bull._ Which you never observe, for you keep the worst hours of\n     any lodger in town.\n\n     _Lyric._ Then there's the exactness of characters.\n\n     _Bull._ And you have the most scandalous one I ever heard....\n\n     _Lyric._ (_Aside_) Was ever poor rogue so ridden. If ever the Muses\n     had a horse, I am he. (_Aloud_) Faith! Madam, poor Pegasus is\n     jaded.\n\n     _Bull._ Come, come, Sir; he shan't slip his neck out of collar for\n     all that. Money I will have, and money I must have.\n\nThe above is taken from Farquhar's first play, and we generally find\nricher humour in the first attempts of genius than in their later and\nmore elaborate productions. Widow Bullfinch says that \"Champagne is a\nfine liquor, which all your beaux drink to make em' witty.\"\n\n     _Mockmode._ Witty! oh by the universe I must be witty! I'll drink\n     nothing else. I never was witty in all my life. I love jokes\n     dearly. Here, Club, bring us a bottle of what d'ye call it--the\n     witty liquor.\n\n     _Bull._ But I thought that all you that were bred at the University\n     would be wits naturally?\n\n     _Mock._ The quite contrary, Madam, there's no such thing there. We\n     dare not have wit there for fear of being counted rakes. Your solid\n     philosophy is all read there, which is clear another thing. But now\n     I will be a wit, by the universe.... Is that the witty liquor? Come\n     fill the glasses. Now that I have found my mistress, I must next\n     find my wits.\n\n     _Club._ So you had need, master, for those that find a mistress are\n     generally out of their wits. (_Gives him a glass._)\n\n     _Mock._ Come, fill for yourself. (_They jingle and drink._) But\n     where's the wit now, Club? Have you found it?\n\n     _Club._ Egad! master, I think 'tis a very good jest.\n\n     _Mock._ What?\n\n     _Club._ What? why drinking--you'll find, master, that this same\n     gentleman in the straw doublet, this same will-i'-th'-wisp is a wit\n     at the bottom. (_Fills._) Here, here, master; how it puns and\n     quibbles in the glass!\n\n     _Mock._ By the universe, now I have it!--the wit lies in the\n     jingling. All wit consists most in jingling; hear how the glasses\n     rhyme to one another.\n\nAgain:--\n\n     _Mock._ Could I but dance well, push well,[63] play upon the flute,\n     and swear the most modish oaths, I would set up for quality with\n     e'er a young nobleman of 'em all. Pray what are the most\n     fashionable oaths in town? Zoons, I take it, is a very becoming\n     one.\n\n     _Rigadoon._ (_a dancing-master._) Zoons is only used by the\n     disbanded officers and bullies, but zauns is the beaux\n     pronunciation.\n\n     _Mock._ Zauns!\n\n     _Rig._ Yes, Sir; we swear as we dance; smooth and with a\n     cadence--Zauns! 'Tis harmonious, and pleases the ladies, because it\n     is soft. Zauns, Madam, is the only compliment our great beaux pass\n     on a lady.\n\n     _Mock._ But suppose a lady speaks to me; what must I say?\n\n     _Rig._ Nothing, Sir; you must take snuff grin, and make her a\n     humble cringe--thus: (_Bows foppishly and takes snuff; Mockmode\n     imitates him awkwardly, and taking snuff, sneezes._) O Lord, Sir!\n     you must never sneeze; 'tis as unbecoming after orangery as grace\n     after meat.\n\n     _Mock._ I thought people took it to clear the brain.\n\n     _Rig._ The beaux have no brains at all, Sir; their skull is a\n     perfect snuff-box; and I heard a physician swear, who opened one of\n     'em, that the three divisions of his head were filled with\n     orangery, bergamot, and plain Spanish.\n\n     _Mock._ Zauns! I must sneeze, (_sneezes._) Bless me!\n\n     _Rig._ Oh, fy! Mr. Mockmode! what a rustical expression that is!\n     'Bless me!' You should upon all such occasions cry, Dem me! You\n     would be as nauseous to the ladies as one of the old patriarchs, if\n     you used that obsolete expression.\n\nSir Harry Wildair gives a good sketch of a lady's waiting-woman of the\ntime.\n\n     _Colonel Standard._ Here, here, Mrs. Parly; whither so fast?\n\n     _Parly._ Oh Lord! my master! Sir, I was running to Mademoiselle\n     Furbelow, the French milliner, for a new burgundy for my lady's\n     head.\n\n     _Col. S._ No, child; you're employed about an old-fashioned\n     garniture for your master's head, if I mistake not your errand.\n\n     _Parly._ Oh, Sir! there's the prettiest fashion lately come over!\n     so airy, so French, and all that. The pinners are double ruffled\n     with twelve plaits of a side, and open all from the face; the hair\n     is frizzled all up round the head, and stands as stiff as a bodkin.\n     Then the favourites hang loose on the temples, with a languishing\n     lock in the middle. Then the caul is extremely wide, and over all\n     is a coronet raised very high, and all the lappets behind.\n\nThis lady on being questioned, says that her wages are ten pounds a\nyear, but she makes two hundred a year of her mistress's old clothes.\n\nBut Farquhar is best known as the author of the \"Beaux Stratagem.\"\nThough not so full of humour, as \"Love in a Bottle,\" it had more action\nand bolder sensational incidents. The play proved a great success, but\none which will always have sad associations. It came too late. Farquhar\ndied in destitution, while the plaudits resounded in his ears.\n\nThe following are specimens from his last play:--\n\n(Aimwell (a gentleman of broken fortune looking for a rich wife) goes to\nchurch in the country to further his designs.)\n\n     _Aimwell._ The appearance of a stranger in a country church draws\n     as many gazers as a blazing star; no sooner he comes into the\n     cathedral, but a train of whispers runs buzzing round the\n     congregation in a moment: _Who is he?_ _Whence comes he?_ _Do you\n     know him?_ Then I, Sir, tips me the verger with half-a-crown; he\n     pockets the simony, and inducts me into the best pew in the church;\n     I pull out my snuff-box, turn myself round, bow to the bishop, or\n     the dean, if he be the commanding officer, single out a beauty,\n     rivet both my eyes to hers, set my nose a bleeding by the strength\n     of imagination, and show the whole church my concern--by my\n     endeavouring to hide it; after the sermon the whole town gives me\n     to her for a lover, and by persuading the lady that I am a-dying\n     for her, the tables are turned, and she in good earnest falls in\n     love with me.\n\n     _Archer._ There's nothing in this, Tom, without a precedent; but\n     instead of rivetting your eyes to a beauty, try to fix 'em upon a\n     fortune; that's our business at present.\n\n     _Aim._ Psha! no woman can be a beauty without a fortune. Let me\n     alone, for I am a marksman.\n\nTalking afterwards of Dorinda, whom he observes in church, he says,\n\n     _Aimwell._ Call me Oroondates, Cesario, Amadis, all that romance\n     can in a lover paint, and then I'll answer:--O, Archer! I read her\n     thousands in her looks, she looked like Ceres in her harvest; corn,\n     wine and oil, milk and honey, gardens, groves, and purling streams\n     played in her plenteous face.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XI.\n\nCongreve--Lord Dorset.\n\n\nThe birthplace of Congreve is uncertain, but he was born about 1671, and\nwas educated in Kilkenny and Dublin. He is an instance of that union of\nIrish versatility with English reflection, which has produced the most\ncelebrated wits. We also mark in him a considerable improvement in\ndelicacy. \"The Old Batchelor\" was his first play, the success of which\nwas so great that Lord Halifax made him one of the commissioners for\nlicensing hackney-coaches; he afterwards gave him a place in the Pipe\nOffice and Custom House.\n\nBelmour begins very suitably by saying--\n\n     \"Come come, leave business to idlers, and wisdom to fools; they\n     have need of 'em. Wit be my faculty, and pleasure my occupation;\n     and let Father Time shake his glass.\"\n\nSpeaking of Belinda, he says--\n\n     \"In my conscience I believe the baggage loves me, for she never\n     speaks well of me herself, nor suffers anybody else to rail at me.\"\n\nHeartwell, an old bachelor, says--\n\n     \"Women's asses bear great burdens; are forced to undergo dressing,\n     dancing, singing, sighing, whining, rhyming, flattery, lying,\n     grinning, cringing, and the drudgery of loving to boot.... Every\n     man plays the fool once in his life, but to marry is to play the\n     fool all one's life long.\"\n\nIn Belinda we have a specimen of one of the fast young ladies of the\nperiod, who certainly seems to have used strong language. She cries,\n\n     Oh, that most inhuman, barbarous, hackney-coach! I am jolted to a\n     jelly, am I not horridly touz'd?\n\nShe chides Belmour,\n\n     Prithee hold thy tongue! Lord! he has so pestered me with flowers\n     and stuff, I think I shan't endure the sight of a fire for a\n     twelvemonth.\n\n     _Belmour._ Yet all can't melt that cruel frozen heart.\n\n     _Bel._ O, gad! I hate your hideous fancy--you said that once\n     before--if you must talk impertinently, for Heaven's sake let it be\n     with variety; don't come always like the devil wrapped in flames.\n     I'll not hear a sentence more that begins with, \"I burn,\" or an \"I\n     beseech you, Madam.\"\n\nAt last she exclaims,\n\n     \"O! my conscience! I could find in my heart to marry thee, purely\n     to be rid of thee.\"\n\nThere is frequently a conflict of wit. Sharper tells Sir Joseph Willot\nthat he lost many pounds, when he was defending him in a scuffle the\nnight before. He hopes he will repay him.\n\n     Money is but dirt, Sir Joseph; mere dirt, Sir Joseph.\n\n     _Sir Joseph._ But I profess 'tis a dirt I have washed my hands of\n     at present.\n\nLord Froth in \"The Double Dealer\" says,\n\n     There is nothing more unbecoming in a man of gravity than to laugh,\n     to be pleased with what pleases the crowd. When I laugh, I always\n     laugh alone.\n\n     _Brisk._ I suppose that's because you laugh at your own jests.\n\nSir Paul Plyant in great wroth expresses himself as follows:\n\nThe subjects of Congreve's Comedies would often be thought objectionable\nat the present day. The humour is not in the plot, but in the general\ndialogue. In \"Love for Love,\" Ben Legend, a sailor, speaking of lawyers,\nsays--\n\n     Lawyer, I believe there's many a cranny and leak unstopt in your\n     conscience. If so be that one had a pump to your bosom, I believe\n     we should discern a foul hold. They say a witch will sail in a\n     sieve, but I believe the devil would not venture aboard your\n     conscience.\n\nThe last play he wrote, which failed, was deficient in wit, but had\nplenty of inebriety in it. After singing a drinking song, Sir Wilful\nsays in \"The Way of the World.\"\n\n     The sun's a good pimple, an honest soaker, he has a cellar at your\n     Antipodes. If I travel, Aunt, I touch at your Antipodes--your\n     Antipodes are a good rascally sort of topsy-turvy fellows. If I had\n     a bumper I'd stand on my head, and drink a health to them.\n\n            *       *       *       *       *\n\n     _Scandal._ Yes, mine (_pictures_) are not in black and white, and\n     yet there are some set out in their true colours, both men and\n     women. I can show you pride, folly, affectation, wantonness,\n     inconstancy, covetousness, dissimulation, malice and ignorance all\n     in one piece. Then I can show your lying, foppery, vanity,\n     cowardice, bragging, incontinence, and ugliness in another piece,\n     and yet one of them is a celebrated beauty, and t'other a professed\n     beau. I have paintings, too, some pleasant enough.\n\n     _Mrs. Frail._ Come, let's hear 'em.\n\n     _Scan._ Why, I have a beau in a bagnio cupping for a complexion,\n     and sweating for a shape.\n\n     _Mrs. F._ So----\n\n     _Scan._ Then I have a lady burning brandy in a cellar with a\n     hackney coachman.\n\n     _Mrs. F._ Oh! well, but that story is not true.\n\n     _Scan._ I have some hieroglyphics, too; I have a lawyer with a\n     hundred hands, two heads, and but one face; a divine with two faces\n     and one head; and I have a soldier with his brains in his belly,\n     and his heart where his head should be.\n\nIt has been said that Congreve retired on the appearance of Mrs.\nCentlivre, but so high was the opinion entertained of his genius that he\nwas buried in Westminster Abbey, and his pall was supported by noblemen.\nPope was one of his greatest admirers, and dedicated his translation of\nHomer to him.\n\nDryden writes on Congreve.\n\n  \"In easy dialogue is Fletcher's praise,\n   He moved the mind, but had not power to raise,\n   Great Jonson did by strength of judgment please,\n   Yet doubling Fletcher's force, he wants his ease.\n   In differing talents both adorned their age,\n   One for the study, t'other for the stage,\n   But both to Congreve justly shall submit,\n   One matched in judgment, both over-matched in wit.\"\n\nMacaulay says \"the wit of Congreve far outshines that of every comic\nwriter, except Sheridan, who has arisen within the last two centuries.\"\n\nLord Dorset of whom we have above spoken deserves some passing notice.\nHe was high in the favour of Charles II., James, and William; and was\none of the most accomplished of the courtiers of that day, who,\nnotwithwstanding their dissipation, were more or less scholars, and\nwrote poetry. What was better, he was a munificent supporter of real\nliterary genius, and patronized Dryden, and to judge by their\ncommendations was not neglectful of Congreve and Pope.\n\nMost of his poems are in the pastoral strain, but do not show any great\ntalent. Two or three of them have some humour--\n\n  \"Dorinda's sparkling wit and eyes\n   United, cast too fierce a light,\n   Which blazes high, but quickly dies,\n   Pains not the heart, but hurts the sight;\n\n         *       *       *       *       *\n\n  \"Love is a calmer, gentler joy,\n   Smooth are his looks, and soft his pace;\n   Her cupid is a blackguard boy\n   That runs his link right in your face.\"\n\nLord Dorset was at the battle of Opdam when the Dutch Admiral's fleet\nwas destroyed in 1665. The night before the engagement he wrote the well\nknown epistle\n\n  \"To all you ladies now on land,\n   We men at sea indite,\n   And first would have you understand\n   How hard it is to write;\n   The Muses now and Neptune too,\n   We must implore to write to you.\n                  With a fa la la la la.\n\n  \"For though the Muses should prove kind,\n   And fill our empty brain,\n   Yet if rough Neptune raise the wind,\n   To wave the azure main,\n   Our paper, pen and ink, and we,\n   Roll up and down our ships at sea.\n                  With a fa, la, &c.\n\n  \"Should foggy Opdam chance to throw\n   Our sad and dismal story,\n   The Dutch would scorn so weak a foe,\n   And quit their fort at Goree;\n   For what resistance can they find\n   From men who've left their hearts behind?\n                  With a fa, la, &c.\n\n  \"In justice you cannot refuse\n   To think of our distress,\n   When we for hope of honour lose\n   Our certain happiness;\n   All those designs are but to prove\n   Ourselves more worthy of your love.\n                  With a fa, la, &c.\n\n  \"And now we've told you all our loves,\n   And likewise all our fears,\n   In hopes this declaration moves,\n   Some pity from your tears;\n   Let's hear of no inconstancy,\n   We have too much of that at sea.\n                  With a fa la la la la.\"\n\nWe can easily understand how the above lines were suggested, for in\nthose times the same officers served both in army and navy, and many of\nthe young sparks taken from the gaieties of London had not yet acquired\ntheir sea legs. Wycherley is said to have been present at some of the\nengagements with the Dutch.\n\n\nEND OF THE FIRST VOLUME.\n\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\n\nFOOTNOTES:\n\n[1] Of course this will scarcely apply in those cases in which, by\nabstraction, we overlook the creative action of the mind, and regard its\nhumorous productions as ludicrous. Nor does it hold good where from long\nexercise of ingenuity a habit has been formed and amusing fancies spring\nup, as it were naturally, and so involuntarily that, for the moment, we\nsee them only as ludicrous. This view changes almost instantaneously,\nand beneath it we often find the best humour. It may be said that such\ncases should be placed entirely under the head of humour, but can we\nmaintain that a man is unaware when he is humorous? The most telling\neffects are produced by the ludicrous, and where the creative action of\nthe mind is scarcely discernible. Efforts to be humorous are seldom\ncrowned with success; we require something that appears to be real or\noriginal, either as a close rendering of actual occurrences, or a\nspontaneous efflorescence of genius. Among the latter class we may\nreckon some of our most exquisite and permanent sayings.\n\n[2] A story is told of a Mr. Crispe, a merchant of London, who although\ndeaf, when Sir Alexander Cary made a speech before his execution,\nfollowed the motion of his lips so as to be able to relate it to his\nfriends.\n\n[3] Mrs. Barbauld had such a perpetual smile that one of her friends\nsaid it made her jaws ache to look at her.\n\n[4] St. Paul, who was brought up at the feet of Gamaliel, gives a\ndifferent account in Rom. iv. 19. See also Heb. xi. 11.\n\n[5] Soame Jenyns strangely imagined that a portion of the happiness of\nSeraphim and of just men made perfect would be derived from an exquisite\nperception of the ludicrous; while Addison mentions that a learned monk\nlaid it down as a doctrine that laughter was the effect of original sin,\nand that Adam could not laugh before the fall. Some of the early\nChristians felt so strongly the incompatibility of strong human emotions\nwith the divine nature that they expunged the words \"Jesus wept.\"\n\n[6] Perhaps Solomon was amused by them, for in the catalogue of the\nvaluable things brought in his ships are apes and peacocks.\n\n[7] I cannot see in Homer any of that philosophic satire on the\ncondition of mortals, which some have found in those passages where men\nare represented as being deceived and tricked by the gods. Anything so\ndeep would be beyond humour. He very probably conceived that the gods,\nwhom he represented as similar to men, were sometimes not above playing\nsevere practical jokes on them. The so-called irony of Sophocles in like\nmanner, is too philosophical and bitter for humour.\n\n[8] Tom Brown, the humorist, says, Lycambes complimented the Iambics of\nArchilochus with the most convincing proof of their wit and goodness.\n\n[9] Archilochus could not have been called a satirist in the correct\nsense of the word. His observations were mostly personal or\nphilosophical. He had evidently considerable power in illustrating the\nmoral by the physical world, and one of his sayings \"Speak not evil of\nthe dead,\" has become proverbial.\n\n[10] Irony had previously been used in Asia. The only specimens of\nhumour in the Old Testament are of this character, as in Job, \"No doubt\nbut ye are the people, and wisdom shall die with you;\" where Elijah says\nto the prophets of Baal, \"Cry aloud, for he is a god,\" and the children\ncall after Elisha, \"Go up, thou bald-head.\"\n\n[11] Magnes and others of the day used similar titles. We read that\nthere were once three Homeric hymns extant, named \"The Monkeys,\" \"The\nseven-times-shorn Goat,\" and \"The Song on the Thrushes.\"\n\n[12] After disposing of his daughters for a bunch of garlic and a little\nsalt, he exclaims, \"Oh, Mercury, God of Traffic, grant that I may sell\nmy wife as profitably, and my mother too!\"\n\n[13] So the pun may be represented.\n\n[14] Certainly not before 460 B.C.\n\n[15] Compare our \"Billingsgate.\"\n\n[16] We sometimes speak of a seedy coat.\n\n[17] The answers to the above riddles are, thistledown, sleep, night and\nday, shade.\n\n[18] \"Gugga\" seems to have corresponded with our \"Nigger.\"\n\n[19] About three and nine pence.\n\n[20] Roman mirrors made of silver.\n\n[21] _Scurra_ originally meant a neighbour, then a gossip, then a\npleasant fellow, and finally a jocose, and in those rude times a\nscurrilous man.\n\n[22] There is a story of Caligula having had an actor burnt alive for\nmaking an offensive pun in an Atellane play. Sometimes nicknames were\nthus made. Placidus was Acidus, Labienus, Rabienus; Claudius Tiberius\nNero was Caldius Biberius Mero.\n\n[23] I have been obliged to omit some of the pungent indelicacy of the\noriginal. The Pope was the sacrificing priest.\n\n[24] We meet with such words as _verrucosus_, _sanna_, a grimace, and\n_stloppus_, the sound made by striking the inflated cheeks.\n\n[25] \"A satirist is always to be suspected, who to make vice odious\ndwells upon all its acts and minutest circumstances with a sort of\nrelish and retrospective fondness.\"--_Lamb._\n\n[26] Palindromes, such as \"Tibi subito motibus ibit.\" We have some in\nEnglish, as where our forefather addresses his wife \"Madam, I'm Adam.\"\n\n[27] Pyrogenes has a double meaning, \"born of corn,\" and \"born of fire,\"\nalluding to Bacchus' mother having been burnt. Bromos is a kind of\ncereal, Bromion a name for Bacchus.\n\n[28] A man of Capreae, having caught an unusually large barbel, presented\nit to Tiberius, who was so enraged at his being able to find him in his\nretreat, that he ordered his face to be scrubbed with the fish.\n\n[29] Some of the pagans put off Christian baptism till the last moment\nunder this idea.\n\n[30] There seems to me to be several reasons for drawing this\nconclusion.\n\n[31] \"Semel minusne, an bis minus; non sat scio, An utrumque eorum,\nut quondam audivi dicier Jovi ipsi regi noluit concedere.\"\n\n[32] The answers to these enigmas are rose, fleas, sea-mew, visions,\nwheels.\n\n[33] As late as the fourteenth century there were only four classical\nworks in the Royal Library at Paris.\n\n[34] Ritson characteristically observes, \"There is this distinction\nbetween the heathen deities and Christian saints, that the fables of the\nformer were indebted for their existence to the flowing inspiration of\nthe sublime poet, and the legends of the latter to the gloomy fanaticism\nof a lazy monk or a stinking priest.\"\n\n[35] Sometimes anciently called \"West Wales.\"\n\n[36] King Alfred advanced so far as to make a translation of a classical\nhistory written by Orosius in 416; but the object of the work was to\nshow that Christianity was not the cause of the evils which had befallen\nthe Roman Empire.\n\n[37] Two of them are mentioned as superior to Homer. One pretended to be\nderived from Dares, a Phrygian, who fought on the Trojan side, and\nanother from Dictys, a Cretan, who was with the Greeks.\n\n[38] The kind of stories prevalent in these countries may be conjectured\nfrom the two related by John of Bromton, as believed by the natives. One\nrelates that the head of a child lies at the bottom of the Gulf of\nSataliah in Asia Minor, and that when the head is partly upright, such\nstorms prevail in the gulf that no vessel can live, but when it is lying\ndown there is a calm. The other asserts that once in every month a great\nblack dragon comes in the clouds, plunges his head into the stream, but\nleaves his tail in the sky, and draws up the water, so that even ships\nare carried into the air. The only way for sailors to escape this\nmonster, is to make a great noise by beating and shouting, so as to\nfrighten him.\n\n[39] Originally an Arcadian superstition.\n\n[40] Pinnacles.\n\n[41] Tiles.\n\n[42] The following is the original.\n\n  \"Meum est propositum in taberna mori,\n   Vinum sit appositum morientis ori,\n   Ut dicant cum venerint angelorum chori,\n   Deus sit propitius huic potatori.\"\n\n[43] An idea probably borrowed from the classical writers.\n\n[44] Or the \"Amiable,\" a translation of his father's name.\n\n[45] Mr. Drummond in his Life of Erasmus.\n\n[46] Reprinted by Halliwell.\n\n[47] See \"Art-Journal.\"\n\n[48] I remember to have seen such a procession at Como in the Holy Week.\nThe various accessories of the Passion were borne along on the top of\npoles with appropriate mottoes, for example: Two ladders crossed, \"He\nbowed the heavens and came down.\" A stuffed cock, \"The cock crew.\" A\nbarber's basin, \"Pilate washed his hands,\" &c. The effect was almost\nludicrous.\n\n[49] Lucian makes the father of Cleanthis congratulate himself on having\nobtained a buffoon for his son's wedding feast. This individual was an\nugly little fellow with close shaven head, except a few straggling hairs\nmade up to resemble a cock. He began by dancing and contorting his body\nand spouting some AEgytian verses, then he launched all kinds of\nfooleries at the company. Most laughed, but on his calling Alcidamas a\nMaltese puppy, he was challenged to fight or have his brains dashed out.\n\n[50] But this may have been traditional, for the fools in classic times\nwere sometimes shaven.\n\n[51] Wright's \"History of the Grotesque.\"\n\n[52] Such as the Wife of Bath's tale, and in \"January and May,\" or the\n\"Marchante's Tale.\"\n\n[53] She was roasting a pig.\n\n[54] Most of the ridiculous answers said to have been made at\nexaminations are mere humorous inventions. We almost think there must be\na slight improvement made in the following, though they are upon the\nauthority of an examiner,\n\n   What are the great Jewish Feasts?\n   Purim, Urim, and Thummin.\n   What bounded Samaria on the East?\n   The Jordan.\n   What on the West?\n   The other side of Jordan.\n   Derive an English word from the Latin _necto_?\n   Necktie.\n\nNor can we doubt that a slight humorous colouring has been introduced\ninto the following from the \"Memorials of Archibald Constable,\" recently\npublished by his son.--An old deaf relation said on her death-bed to her\nattendant, \"Ann, if I should be spared, I hope my nephew will get the\ndoctor to open my head, and see whether anything can be done for my\nhearing.\"\n\n[55] One of Anne Boleyn's principal favourites was Sir Thomas Wyatt, who\nwas celebrated at that day as a man of humour, though at present we see\nnothing in his poems but a few poetical conceits. The titles of them are\nsuggestive: \"The Lover sending sighs to move his suit.\" \"Of his Love who\npricked her finger with a needle.\" \"The Lover praiseth the beauty of his\nLady's hand.\" He wrote the following upon the Queen's name:--\n\n  \"What word is that, that changeth not,\n   Though it be turned and made in twain?\n   It is mine Anna, God it wot,\n   The only causer of my pain;\n   My love that meedeth with disdain;\n   Yet is it loved, what will you more?\n   It is my salve and eke my sore.\"\n\n\n[56] Christina of Sweden made a similar remark when the Order of the\nGarter was sent to Charles Gustavus.\n\n[57] Pace had said the same to Queen Elizabeth, and from such strokes\njesters were called 'honest,' as 'Honest Jo,' &c.\n\n[58] There is little humour in Shadwell's works; he succeeded Dryden as\nPoet Laureate, which was perhaps the cause of the above lines.\n\nRochester said, \"If Shadwell had burnt all he wrote, and printed all he\nspoke, he would have had more wit and humour than any poet.\" Probably\nhis wit would have been like Rochester's. Whether Shadwell were himself\na good poet or not, he made a hit at the poetasters of his day, in which\nhe showed some genius.\n\n  _Poet._     O, very loftily!\n    The winged vallance of your eyes advance\n    Shake off your canopied and downie trance:\n    Phoebus already quaffs the morning dew,\n    Each does his daily lease of life renew.\n  Now you shall hear description, 'tis the very life of poetry.\n    He darts his beams on the lark's mossy house,\n    And from his quiet tenement doth rouse\n    The little charming and harmonious fowl\n    Which sings its lump of body to a soul.\n    Swiftly it clambers up in the steep air\n    With warbling notes, and makes each note a stair.\n\n\n[59] Sir Roger L'Estrange gives the names of the people attacked.\n\n[60] One of Cromwell's principal officers.\n\n[61] Thus familiarly called, no doubt owing to the custom of giving pet\nnames to jesters.\n\n[62] Guardian, Vol. I. No. 2.\n\n[63] Fence.\n\n  London: Printed by A. Schulze, 13, Poland Street.","title":"History of English Humour, Vol. 1: With an Introduction upon Ancient Humour","tradition":"philosophy-ethics","translated_text":null,"word_count":83622}