doubts but that our sense of beauty is the true test of what is beautiful; and our sense of grandeur, of what is great or sublime. Is it more doubtful whether our sense of ridicule be the true test of what is ridiculous? It is not only the true test, but indeed the only test; for this subject comes not, more than beauty or grandeur, under the province of reason. If any subject, by the influence of fashion or custom, have acquired a degree of veneration to which naturally it is not entitled, what are the proper means for wiping off the artificial coloring, and displaying the subject in its true light? A man of true taste sees the subject without disguise: but if he hesitate, let him apply the test of ridicule, which separates it from its artificial connections, and exposes it naked with all its native improprieties.

But it is urged, that the gravest and most serious matters may be set in a ridiculous light. Hardly so; for where an object is neither risible nor improper, it lies not open in any quarter to an attack from ridicule. But supposing the fact, I foresee not any harmful consequence. By the same sort of reasoning, a talent for wit ought to be condemned, because it may be employed to burlesque a great or lofty subject. Such irregular use made of a talent for wit or ridicule, cannot long impose upon mankind: it cannot stand the test of correct and delicate taste; and truth will at last prevail even with the vulgar. To condemn a talent for ridicule because it may be perverted to wrong purposes, is not a little ridiculous. Could one forbear to smile, if a talent for reasoning were condemned because it also may be perverted? and yet the conclusion in the latter case, would be not less just than in the former: perhaps more just; for no talent is more frequently perverted than that of reason.

We had best leave nature to her own operations: the most valu able talents may be abused, and so may that of ridicule: let us bring it under proper culture if we can, without endeavoring to pluck it up by the root. Were we destitute of this test of truth, I know not what might be the consequences: I see not what rule would be left us to prevent splendid trifles passing for matters of importance, show and form for substance, and superstition or enthusiasm for pure religion.

CHAPTER XIII.

WIT.

Wit, a quality of certain thoughts and expressions, not applicable to an action or a passion-Divided into two kinds; in the thought, and in the expression- Wit in the thought, divided into two kinds: ludicrous images; and ludicrous com binations of things-Ludicrous combinations, divided into five kinds: fanciful causes; fanciful reasoning; ludicrous junction of small things to great; joining things apparently opposite; promises, promising much, and performing nothing-Verbal wit depends upon choosing words of different significations→ Verbal wit of five kinds: seeming resemblance from the double meaning of the words; a verbal antithesis, or seeming contrast, from the same cause; seeming connection from the same cause; seeming opposition from the same cause; taking words in a different meaning from what they were intended—An assertion that bears a double meaning a species of wit, called a pun.

WIT is a quality of certain thoughts and expressions: the term is never applied to an action nor a passion, and as little to an external object.

However difficult it may be, in many instances, to distinguish a witty thought or expression from one that is not so, yet, in general, it may be laid down, that the term wit is appropriated to such thoughts and expressions as are ludicrous, and also occasion some degree of surprise by their singularity. Wit also, in a figurative sense, expresses a talent for inventing ludicrous thoughts or expressions: we say commonly a witty man, or a man of wit.

Wit in its proper sense, as explained above, is distinguishable into two kinds; wit in the thought, and wit in the words or expression. Again, wit in the thought is of two kinds; ludicrous images, and ludicrous combinations of things that have little or no natural relation.

Ludicrous images that occasion surprise by their singularity, as having little or no foundation in nature, are fabricated by the imagination: and the imagination is well qualified for the office; being of all our faculties the most active, and the least under restraint. Take the following example:

Shylock. You knew (none so well, none so well as you) of my daughter's flight. Salino. That's certain; I for my part knew the tailor that made the wings she flew withal. Merchant of Venice, Act III. Sc. 1. The image here is undoubtedly witty. It is ludicrous: and it must occasion surprise; for having no natural foundation, it is altogether unexpected.

The other branch of wit in the thought, is that only which is taken notice of by Addison, following Locke, who defines it "to lie in the assemblage of ideas; and putting those together, with quickness and variety, wherein can be found any resemblance or congruity, thereby to make up pleasant pictures and agreeable visions in the fancy.' It may be defined more concisely, and perhaps more accurately, "A junction of things by distant and fanciful relations, which surprise because they are unexpected." The following is a proper example. + See Chap. 1.

B. II. Ch. 11. 6 2.

Wit is of all the most elegant recreation: the image enters the mind with gayety, and gives a sudden flash, which is extremely pleasant. Wit thereby gently elevates without straining, raises mirth without dissoluteness, and relaxes while it entertains.

Wit in the expression, commonly called a play of words, being a bastard sort of wit, is reserved for the last place. I proceed to examples of wit in the thought; and first of ludicrous images.

Falstaff, speaking of his taking Sir John Coleville of the Dale: Here he is, and here I yield him; and I beseech your Grace, let it be book'dwith the rest of this day's deeds; or, by the Lord, I will have it in a particular ballad else, with mine own picture on the top of it, Coleville kissing my foot: to the which course if I be enforc'd, if you do not all show like gilt twopences to me; and I, in the clear sky of fame, o'ershine you as much as the full moon doth the cinders of the element, which show like pins' heads to her; believe not the word of the Noble. Therefore let me have right, and let desert mount.

Second Part Henry IV. Act IV. Sc. 3.

I knew, when seven justices could not take up a quarrel, but when the parties were met themselves, one of them thought but of an if; as, if you said so, then 1 said so; and they shook hands, and swore brothers; Your if is the only peacemaker; much virtue is in if. Shakspeare.

For there is not through all Nature, another so callous, and insensible a member, as the world's posteriors, whether you apply to it the toe or the birch.

Preface to a Tale of a Tub. The war hath introduced abundance of polysyllables, which will never be able to live many more campaigns. Speculations, operations, preliminaries, ambassadors, palisadoes, communication, circumvallation, battalions, as numerous as they are, if they attack us too frequently in our coffeehouses, we shall certainly put them to flight, and cut off the rear. Tatler, No. 230.

Speaking of Discord,

She never went abroad, but she brought home such a bundle of monstrous lies, as would have amazed any mortal, but such as knew her; of a whale that had swallowed a fleet of ships; of the lions being let out of the Tower to destroy the Protestant religion; of the Pope's being seen in a brandy-shop at Wapping, &c. History of John Bull, Part I. Ch. 16.

The other branch of wit in the thought, namely, ludicrous combinations and oppositions, may be traced through various ramifications. And, first, fanciful causes assigned that have no natural relation to the effects produced:

[Exit.

Lancaster. Fare you well, Falstaff; 1, in my condition, Shall better speak of you than you deserve. Falstaff. I would you had but the wit; 'twere better than your dukedom. Good faith, this same young sober-blooded boy doth not love me; nor a man cannot make him laugh; but that's no marvel, he drinks no wine. There's never any of these demure boys come to any proof; for thin drink doth so overcool their blood, and making many fish-meals, that they fall into a kind of male greensickness; and then, when they marry, they get wenches. They are generally fools and cowards; which some of us should be too, but for inflammation. A good sherris-sack hath a twofold operation in it: it ascends me into the brain; dries me there all the foolish, dull, and crudy vapors which environ it; makes it appre hensive, quick, forgetive, full of nimble, fiery, and delectable shapes; which deli vered o'er to the voice, the tongue, which is the birth, becomes excellent wit. The

second property of your excellent sherris is, the warming of the blood, which before cold and settled, left the liver white and pale; which is the badge of pusillanimity and cowardice: but the sherris warms it, and makes it course from the inwards to the parts extreme; it illuminateth the face, which, as a beacon, gives warning to all the rest of this little kingdom, man, to arm; and then the vital commoners and inland petty spirits muster me all to their captain, the heart, who, great, and puff'd up with his retinue, doth any deed of courage: and thus valor comes of sherris. So that skill in the weapon is nothing without sack, for that sets it a-work; and learning a mere hoard of gold kept by a devil, till sack commences it, and sets it in act and use. Hereof comes it that Prince Harry is valiant; for the cold blood he did naturally inherit of his father, he hath, like lean, steril, and bare land, manured, husbanded, and till'd, with excellent endeavor of drinking good and good store of fertile sherris, that he is become very hot and valiant. If I had a thousand sons, the first human principle I would teach them, should be to forswear thin potations, and to addict themselves to sack.

Second Part of Henry IV. Act IV. Sc. 7.

The trenchant blade, toledo trusty,

For want of fighting was grown rusty,
And ate into itself, for lack

Of some body to hew and hack.

The peaceful scabbard where it dwelt,
The rancor of its edge had felt;
For of the lower end two handful,
It had devoured, 'twas so manful;
And so much scorn'd to lurk in case,
As if it durst not show its face.

Hudibras, Canto 1.

Speaking of physicians,

Le bon de cette profession est, qu'il y a parmi les morts une honnêteté, une discrétion la plus grande du monde; jamais on n'en voit se plaindre du médecin qui l'a tué. Le Médicin malgré lui.

Admirez les bontes, admirez les tendresses,

De ces vieux esclaves du sort.

Ils ne sont jamais las d'acquérir des richesses,
Pour ceux qui souhaitent leur mort.

Benda. Lard, he has so pester'd me with flames and stuff-I think I shan't endure the sight of a fire this twelvemonth. Old Bachelor, Act II. Sc. 8.

To account for effects by such fantastical causes, being highly ludicrous, is quite improper in any serious composition. Therefore the following passage from Cowley, in his poem on the death of Sir Henry Wooton, is in a bad taste.

He did the utmost bounds of knowledge find,
He found them not so large as was his mind.
But, like the brave Pellaan youth, did moan,
Because that art had no more worlds than one.
And when he saw that he through all had past,
He dy'd, lest he should idle grow at last.

Fanciful- reasoning:

Falstaff. Imbowell'd!- -if thou imbowel me to-day, I'll give you leave to powder me, and eat me to-morrow! 'Sblood, 'twas time to counterfeit, or that hot termagant Scot had paid me scot and lot too. Counterfeit! I lie, I am no counterfeit; to die is to be a counterfeit; for he is but the counterfeit of a man, who hath not the life of a man; but to counterfeit dying, when a man thereby liveth, is to be no counterfeit, but the true and perfect image of life indeed.

First Part, Henry IV. Act V. Sc. 4.

Clown. And the more pity that great folk should have countenance in this world to drown or hang themselves, more than their even-christian.

Hamlet, Act V. Sc. 1.

Pedro Will you have me, Lady?
Beatrice. No, my Lord, unless I might have another for working days. Your

Grace is too costly to wear every day.

Much Ado about Nothing, Act II. Sc. 1. Jessica. I shall be saved by my husband; he hath made me a Christian. Launcelot. Truly the more to blame he; we were Christians enough before, e'en as many as could well live by one another: this making of Christians will raise the price of hogs; if we grow all to be pork-eaters, we shall not have a rasher on the coals for money. Merchant of Venice, Act III. Sc. 5.

In western clime there is a town,
To those that dwell therein well known;
Therefore there needs no more be said here,
We unto them refer our reader:
For brevity is very good

When w' are, or are not understood.
But Hudibras gave him a twitch,
As quick as lightning, in the breech,
Just in the place where honor's lodg'd,
As wise philosophers have judg'd;
Because a kick in that part, more
Hurts honor, than deep wounds before.

Hudibras, Canto I.

Ibid. Canto III.

Ludicrous junction of small things with great, as of equal impor

tance:

This day black omens threat the brightest fair
That e'er deserved a watchful spirit's care:
Some dire disaster, or by force, or slight:
But what, or where, the fates have wrapt in night:
Whether the nymph shall break Diana's law;
Or some frail china jar receive a flaw;

Or stain her honor, or her new brocade;
Forget her pray'rs, or miss a masquerade;
Or lose her heart, or necklace, at a ball;

Or whether Heav'n has doom'd that Shock must fall.

Rape of the Lock, Canto II. 101.

One speaks the glory of the British Queen,
And one describes a charming Indian screen.

Ibid. Canto III. 13.

Then flash'd the living lightning from her eyes,
And screams of horror rend th' affrighted skies.
Not louder shrieks to pitying Heav'n are cast,
When husbands or when lapdogs breathe their last
Or when rich china vessels fall'n from high,
In glitt'ring dust and painted fragments lie!

Ibid. Canto III. 155.

Not youthful kings in-battle seiz'd alive,
Not scornful virgins who their charms survive,
Not ardent lovers robb'd of all their bliss,
Nor ancient ladies when refus'd a kiss,
Not tyrants fierce that unrepenting die,

Ibid. Canto IV. 3.

Not Cynthia when her manteau's pinn'd awry, E'er felt such rage, resentment, and despair, As thou, sad virgin, for thy ravish'd hair. Joining things that in appearance are opposite. As for example, where Sir Roger de Coverley, in the Spectator, speaking of his widow,

That he would have given her a coal-pit to have kept her in clean linen; and that her finger should have sparkled with one hundred of his richest acres.

Premises that promise much and perform nothing. Cicero upon that article says,