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+*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 14973 ***
+Series One:
+
+
+
+
+
+_Essays on Wit_
+
+
+
+
+
+
+No. 2
+
+_Essay on Wit_ (1748); Richard Flecknoe's _Of one that Zany's the good
+Companion and Of a bold abusive Wit_ (second edition, 1665);
+
+Joseph Warton, _The Adventurer_, Nos. 127 and 133 (1754); _Of Wit
+(Weekly Register_, 1732).
+
+With an Introduction to the Series on Wit by Edward N. Hooker
+
+
+
+
+
+The Augustan Reprint Society November, 1946 _Price_: 75c
+
+
+
+
+
+
+Membership in the Augustan Reprint Society entitles the subscriber to
+six publications issued each year. The annual membership fee is $2.50.
+Address subscriptions and communications to the Augustan Reprint
+Society in care of one of the General Editors.
+
+General Editors: Richard C. Boys, University of Michigan, Ann Arbor,
+Michigan;
+
+Edward N. Hooker, H.I. Swedenberg, Jr., University of
+California, Los Angeles 24, California.
+
+Editorial Advisors: Louis L. Bredvold, University of Michigan; James
+L. Clifford, Columbia University; Benjamin Boyce, University of
+Nebraska; Cleanth Brooks, Louisiana State University; Arthur Friedman,
+University of Chicago; James R. Sutherland, Queen Mary College
+University of London.
+
+
+
+
+
+
+INTRODUCTION TO THE SERIES ON WIT
+
+The age of Dryden and Pope was an age of wit, but there were few who
+could explain precisely what they meant by the term. A thing so
+multiform and. Protean escaped the bonds of logic and definition. In
+his sermon "Against Foolish Talking and Jesting" the learned Dr. Isaac
+Barrow attempted to describe some of the forms which it took; the
+forms were many, and it is difficult to discover any element which
+they held in common. Nevertheless Barrow ventured a summary:
+
+ It is, in short, a manner of speaking out of the simple and
+ plain way, (such as Reason teacheth and proveth things by,)
+ which by a pretty surprizing uncouthness in conceit of
+ expression doth affect and amuse the fancy, stirring in it
+ some wonder, and breeding some delight thereto.
+
+And about sixty years later, despite the work of Hobbes and Locke in
+calling attention to the importance of semantics, the confusion still
+existed. According to John Oldmixon (_Essay on Criticism_, 1727, p.
+21), "Wit and Humour, Wit and good Sense, Wit and Wisdom, Wit and
+Reason, Wit and Craft; nay, Wit and Philosophy, are with us almost the
+same Things." Some such confusion is apparent in the definition
+presented by the _Essay on Wit_ (1748, p. 6).
+
+In general it was recognized that there were two main kinds of wit.
+Both fancy and judgment, said Hobbes (_Human Nature_, X, sect. 4), are
+usually understood in the term _wit_; and wit seems to be "a tenuity
+and agility of spirits," opposed to the sluggishness of spirits
+assumed to be characteristic of dull people. Sometimes wit was used in
+this sense to translate the words _ingenium_ or _l'esprit_. But
+Hobbes's disciple Walter Charleton objected to making it the
+equivalent of _ingenium_, which, he said, rather signified a man's
+natural inclination--that is, genius. Instead, he described wit as
+either the faculty of understanding, or an act or effect of that
+faculty; and understanding is made up of both judgment and
+Imagination. The Ample or Happy Wit exhibits a fine blend of the two
+(_Brief Discourse concerning the Different Wits of Men_, 1669, pp. 10,
+17-19). In this sense wit combines quickness and solidity of mind.
+
+In the other, and more restricted sense, wit was made identical with
+fancy (or imagination) and distinguished sharply from reason or
+judgment. So Hobbes, recording a popular meaning of wit, remarked
+(_Leviathan_. I, viii) that people who discover rarely observed
+similitudes in objects that otherwise are much unlike, are said to
+have a good wit. And judgment, directly opposed to it, was taken to be
+the faculty of discerning differences in objects that are
+superficially alike. (Between this idea of wit as discovering likeness
+in things unlike, and the Platonic idea of discovering the One in the
+Many, the Augustans made no connection.) A similar distinction between
+wit and judgment was made by Charleton, Robert Boyle, John Locke, and
+many others. The full implication lying in Hobbes's definition can be
+seen in Walter Charleton, who said (_Brief Discourse_, pp. 20-21) that
+imagination (or wit) is the faculty by which "we conceive some certain
+similitude in objects really unlike, and pleasantly confound them in
+discourse: Which by its unexpected Fineness and allusion, surprizing
+the Hearer, renders him less curious of the truth of what is said." In
+short, wit is delightful, but, because it leads away from truth,
+unprofitable and, it may be, even dangerous.
+
+The identification of wit with fancy gave it a lowly role in Augustan
+thinking; and also in literary prose, which was supposed to be the
+language of reason (cf. Donald F. Bond, "'Distrust' of Imagination in
+English Neo-Classicism," _PQ_, XIV, 54-69). What of its
+position in poetry? According to Hobbes, poetry must exhibit both
+judgment and fancy, but fancy should dominate; and the work of fancy
+is to adorn discourse with tropes and figures, to please by
+extravagance, to disguise meaning, and to create pleasant
+illusions. One of Hobbes's followers announced that fancy must have
+the upper hand because all poems please chiefly by novelty. While they
+made wit the most essential element in poetry, they made it trivial
+and empty, and thereby helped to bring poetry itself into contempt.
+
+Partly to oppose this low opinion of poetry, the neo-Aristotelians
+among the critics began to stress the view that fable, design, and
+structure were the really essential elements in poetry, and that these
+were the product of reason, or judgment. And because reason was the
+means by which truth was discovered, poetry by virtue of its
+rational framework became capable of revealing and communicating
+truth--that is, of instructing. In this conception of poetry there was
+little glory left for wit. It was relegated to be used for color and
+adornment in serious poetry, or to furnish the substance of the
+"little" poetry which could not boast of design or structure. Thus,
+the _Essay on Wit_ invites the poet, (p. 15):
+
+ Have as much Wit as you will, or you can, in a Madrigal, in
+ little light Verses, in the Scene of a Comedy, which is
+ neither passionate or simple, in a Compliment, in a little
+ Story, in a Letter where you would be merry yourself to make
+ your Friends so.
+
+Be witty in these playful varieties of poetry, because wit in a large
+and serious work would be insufferable.
+
+"These Sports of the Imagination, these Finesses, these Conceits,
+these glittering Strokes, these Gaieties, these little cut Sentences,
+these ingenious Prodigalities" in which wit is expressed might be
+either sober or funny. Most of the examples in the _Essay on Wit_ are
+of the sober kind, coming under the order of wit because they are
+pretty and diverting fancies. But by the 1690's there had been a clear
+tendency to associate wit with mirth, and often with satire. By 1726
+James Arbuckle could write (_A Collection of Letters_, 1729, II, 72):
+"... Satire and Ridicule, which are the main Provocatives to Laughter,
+still keep their ground among us, and are reckoned the chief
+Embellishments of Discourse by all who aim at the Character of Wits."
+
+The end of wit was to surprise and delight. One may surprise by
+novelty, but the easiest road to the goal is audacity; and the
+subjects which lent themselves most readily to audacity were sex and
+religion. The treatment of the latter proved especially troublesome to
+good men like Blackmore, and the frequency of portraits and characters
+of the Profance Wit shows that many people were disturbed. Shaftesbury
+in _Sensus Communis_ (1709) tried to justify the use of wit in
+discussing religion. For the rest of the century Shaftesbury's
+position was the center of heated debate, with Akenside supporting,
+and John Brown and Warburton opposing, the employment of wit in
+religion; and the _Gentleman's Magazine_ is full of the arguments of
+lesser men who took sides. The author of the _Essay on Wit_ places
+himself firmly beside Shaftesbury when he remarks (p. 14) that "a
+Subject which will not bear Raillery, is suspicious." The controversy
+is reviewed in an article by A.O. Aldridge, called "Shaftesbury and
+the Test of Truth" (_PMLA_, LX, 129-156).
+
+Wit was taken to be the source, of tropes, and figures of speech, of
+all the color and adornments of rhetoric; and the old tradition of
+rhetoric, handed down from the Renaissance, tended to regard tropes
+and figures as mere ornament, a means of decorating the surface, an
+artful prettifying of a subject in order that it might please. For
+this reason wit was likely to be considered out of place in serious
+works which called for naturalness and passion. The objection to the
+simile in the language of passion was an old note in English criticism
+(cf. Dennis, _Critical Works_, I, 424); but the author of the _Essay
+on Wit_ in condemning glittering strokes and ingenious prodigalities
+in impassioned literature shows by his phrasing that he is following
+Father Bouhours (cf. Manlere die Bien Penser, Amsterdam, 1688, pp.
+8-9, 234, 296, 388).
+
+In _Spectator_, no. 249, Addison entered the contest known as the
+Battle of the Books, and lined himself up squarely on the side of the
+Ancients. The ancients, he said, surpassed the moderns in poetry,
+painting, oratory, history, architecture, and, in fact, all arts and
+sciences which depend more on genius than on experience. It was no
+lightening of the judgment when he added that the moderns surpass the
+ancients in doggerel, humour burlesque, and all the trivial arts of
+ridicule, the arts of the "unlucky little wits." So degraded had wit
+become! In the _Adventurer_, nos. 127 and 133, Joseph Warton showed
+himself to be essentially in agreement with Addison's verdict,
+differing only in thinking that a few moderns might compare with the
+ancients in works of genius. He appears somewhat less scornful of wit,
+recognizing its part in the arts of civility and the decencies of
+conversation; and yet he associates It with ridicule, laughter, and
+luxury, and makes it the pleasant plaything of gentlemen.
+
+Occasionally there were attempts to restore wit to its pristine glory,
+to the position it had occupied before it was tied to mirth and
+ridicule, when Atterbury could thus define it: "Wit, indeed, as it
+implies, a certain uncommon Reach and Vivacity of Thought, is an
+Excellent Talent; very fit to be employ'd in the Search of Truth...."
+So the anonymous author of _A Satyr upon a Late Pamphlet Entitled, A
+Satyr against Wit_ (1700) could rhapsodize:
+
+ Wit is a Radiant Spark of Heav'nly Fire,
+ Full of Delight, and worthy of Desire;
+ Bright as the Ruler of the Realms of Day,
+ Sun of the Soul, with in-born Beauties gay....
+
+So Corbyn Morris in his _Essay towards Fixing the True Standards of
+Wit, Humour, Raillery, Satire, and Ridicule_, 1744, probably the best
+and clearest treatment of the subject in the first half of the
+eighteenth century, wrote (p. 1): "Wit is the Lustre resulting from
+the quick Elucidation of one Subject, by a just and unexpected
+Arrangement of it with another Subject." And so the author of the
+essay "Of Wit" in the _Weekly Register_ for July 22, 1732, ventured
+his opinion (reprinted in the _Gentleman's Magazine_, II, 861-862):
+
+ Wit is a Start of Imagination in the Speaker, that strikes
+ the Imagination of the Hearer with an Idea of Beauty common
+ to both; and the immediate Result of the Comparison is the
+ Flash of Joy that attends it; it stands in the same Regard
+ to Sense, or Wisdom, as lightning to the Sun, suddenly
+ kindled and as suddenly gone....
+
+But for the most part wit was becoming an expression of mirth or
+ridicule in which fancy was primarily involved; at its best wit was
+coupled with politeness and elegance in conversation, and at its worst
+with silliness and extravagance, or with indecency and impiety.
+
+The essay from the _Weekly Register_ is one of a large number of
+little histories of wit, which appear through the age of Dryden and
+Pope and which attempt to relate developments in wit to changes
+in fashion, religion, polities, social manners, and taste. These are
+rudimentary but important expressions of the idea that literature is
+conditioned by changing circumstances and social customs in the lives
+of the people from whom it springs.
+
+The _Essay on Wit_, 1748, is reprinted here, by permission,
+from a copy in the library of the University of Illinois. Flecknoe's
+_Characters_ are reprinted from a copy of _Sixty Nine Enigmatical
+Character_ owned by the library of the University of Michigan. The
+essays of Joseph Warton is the _Adventurer_, and the typescript copy
+of the essay
+
+ "Of Wit" from the _Weekly Register_ (as reprinted in the
+ _Gentleman's Magazine_) are also taken from copies belonging
+ to the University of Michigan.
+
+ Edward Niles Hooker
+ University of California, Los Angeles
+
+ * * * * *
+
+
+
+[Illustration: Title page]
+
+AN ESSAY ON WIT.
+
+
+[Price Six-pence.]
+
+
+
+AN ESSAY ON WIT:
+
+To which is annexed,
+
+A DISSERTATION on Antient and Modern HISTORY.
+
+ * * * * *
+
+ ____ _Sapientia prima
+ Stultiti‚ caruisse._ HOR. Epist. I. Lib. I.
+
+ * * * * *
+
+_LONDON_:
+
+Printed for _T. Lownds_, Bookseller, at the _Bible_ and _Crown_, in
+_Exeter-Change_, in the _Strand_, 1748.
+
+ * * * * *
+
+
+
+
+AN ESSAY ON WIT.
+
+A Gentleman who had some Knowledge in the human Heart, was consulted
+about a Tragedy which was going to be acted: He answer'd that there
+was so much Wit in the Piece that he doubted of its Success.--At
+hearing such a Judgment, a Man will immediately cry out, What! is Wit
+then a Fault, at a Time when every Body aims at having it, when nobody
+writes but to shew he has it; when the Publick applauds even false
+Thoughts, provided they are shining! Yes, 'twill doubtless be
+applauded the first Day, and grow tiresome the next.
+
+That which they call Wit, is sometimes a new Simile, sometimes a fine
+Allusion: Here 'tis the Abuse of a Word which presents itself in one
+Sense, and is understood in another; there a delicate Relation between
+two uncommon Ideas: 'Tis an extraordinary Metaphor; 'tis something
+which in an Object does not at first present itself, but nevertheless
+is in it; 'tis the Art, to unite two Things which were far from one
+another; to separate two which seem to be joined, or to set them in
+Opposition; 'tis the Art, of expressing but half the Thought and
+leaving the other to be found out. In short, I'd tell all the
+different Ways of shewing Wit, if I knew of any more.
+
+But all these Brightnesses (and I speak not of the false ones) agree
+not, or very seldom agree with a serious Work, which ought to be
+interesting. The Reason of it is, that 'tis then the Author that
+appears, and the Publick will see no body but the Hero. Moreover the
+Hero is always either in a Passion, or in Danger. Danger, and the
+Passions seek not Expressions of Wit. _Priam_ and _Hecuba_ don't make
+Epigrams, when their Children's Throats are cut and _Troy_ in
+Flames:--_Dido_ does not sigh in Madrigals, when she flies to the Pile
+upon which she's going to sacrifice herself:--_Demosthenes_ has no
+Prettinesses, when he animates the _Athenians_ to War; if he had, he'd
+be a Rhetorician indeed, instead of which he's a Statesman.
+
+If _Pyrrhus_ was always to express himself in this Stile:
+
+ _'Tis true,
+ My Sword has often reek'd in_ Phrygian _Blood,
+ And carried Havock through your Royal Kindred:
+ But you, fair Princess, amply have aveng'd
+ Old_ Priam's _vanquish'd House: And all the Woes,
+ I brought on them, fall short of what I suffer._
+
+This Character wou'd not touch at all: 'Twou'd soon be perceiv'd, that
+true Passion seldom makes Use of such Comparisons, and that there is
+very little Proportion between the real Fires which consumed _Troy_,
+and the amorous Fires of _Pyrrhus_; between the Havock he made amongst
+_Andromache_'s Kindred and the Cruelty she shews him.
+
+_Chamont_ says, in speaking of _Monimia_:
+
+ _You took her up a little tender Flower,
+ Just sprouted on a Bank, which the next Frost
+ Had nipt; and, with a careful loving Hand,
+ Transplanted her into your own fair Garden,
+ Where the Sun always shines: There long she flourish'd,
+ Grew sweet to Sense, and lovely to the Eye;
+ Till at the last, a cruel Spoiler came,
+ Cropt this fair Rose, and rifled all its Sweetness,
+ Then cast it, like a loathsome Weed, away._
+
+This Thought has a prodigious Eclat: There's a great deal of Wit in
+it, and even an Air of Simplicity that imposes upon one. We all see,
+that these Verses, pronounced with the Art and Enthusiasm of a good
+Actor never fail of Applause; but I think we may also see, that the
+Tragedy of the _Orphan_ wrote entirely in this Taste would never have
+lived long.
+
+In effect, why should _Chamont_ make such a long-winded Simile almost
+in the Height of Rage for the Ruin of his Sister? Is that natural?
+Does not the Poet here quite hide his Hero to shew himself?
+
+This brings into my Mind the absurd Custom of finishing the Acts of
+almost all our modern Tragedies with a Simile; surely in a great
+Crisis of Affairs, in a Council, in a violent Passion of Love or
+Wrath, in a pressing Danger, Princes, Ministers, Heroes or Lovers,
+should not make Poetical Comparisons.--Even _Marcia_'s (or rather Mr.
+_Addison_'s) beautiful Simile at the End of the first Act of _Cato_,
+is scarcely to be forgiven.
+
+What then would a Work be, that was filled with far-fetched and
+Problematick Thoughts? How infinitely superior to all such dazling
+Ideas, are these simple and natural Words of _Monimia_ to her angry
+Brother?
+
+ _Look kindly on me then. I cannot bear
+ Severity; it daunts, and does amaze me:_
+ _My Heart's so tender, should you charge me rough,
+ I should but weep, and answer you with sobbing.
+ But use me gently, like a loving Brother,
+ And search through all the Secrets of my Soul._
+
+Or these of _Brutus_, when he receives the News of his Wife's Death:
+
+ Brutus. _Now, as you are a_ Roman, _tell me true._
+
+ Messala. _Then like a_ Roman _bear the Truth I tell;
+ For certain she is dead, and by strange manner._
+
+ Brutus. _Why farewel_ Portia.--_We must die,_ Messala.
+ _With meditating that she must die once,
+ I have the Patience to endure it now._
+
+Or these noble ones of _Titinius_, when he stabs himself:
+
+ _By your leave Gods--this is a_ Roman's _Part._
+
+It is not that which is called Wit, but what is sublime and noble that
+makes true Beauty.
+
+I have purposely chose these Examples from good Authors, that they may
+be the more striking; and I speak not of those Points and Quibbles,
+whose Impropriety is easily perceiv'd. There is no one but laughs when
+_Hotspur_ says,
+
+ _Why, what a deal of candied Courtesie
+ This fawning Greyhound then did proffer me!
+ Look, when his infant Fortune came to Age,
+ And gentle_ Harry Percy--_and kind Cousin_--_The
+ Devil take such Cozeners_.--
+
+_Shakespear_ found the Stage, and all the People of his Days, infected
+with these Puerillities, and he very well knew how (though perhaps he
+never read it in _Epictetus_) [Greek: ] to attune, or harmonize his
+Mind to the Things which happen.
+
+I now remember one of these shining Strokes, which I have seen quoted
+in several Works of Taste, and even in the Treatise of Studies by the
+late Mr. _Rollin_. This _Morceau_ is taken from the beautiful Funeral
+Oration of the great _Turenne_: The whole Piece is very fine, but it
+seems to me that the Stroke I am speaking of should not have been made
+Use of by a Bishop.--This is it:
+
+ "O Sovereigns! Enemies of _France_, ye live, and the Spirit
+ of Christian Charity forbids me to wish your Deaths,
+ &c.--But ye live, and I mourn in this Pulpit the Death of a
+ virtuous Captain, whose Intentions were pure, &c.--"
+
+An Apostrophe in this Taste would have been very proper at _Rome_ in
+the Civil Wars, after the Assassination of _Pompey_; or at _London_
+after the Death of _Charles_ the First. But is it decent, in a Pulpit,
+to wish for the Death of the Emperor, the King of _Spain_, and the
+Electors; to put them in Balance with the General of a King's Army,
+who is their Enemy? Or ought the Intentions of a Captain, which can be
+no other than to serve his Prince, to be compared with the Politick
+Interests of the crown'd Heads against which he serves? What would be
+said of a _Frenchman_, who had wished for the Death of the King of
+_England_, because of the Loss of the Chevalier _Belleisle_, whose
+Intentions were pure?
+
+For what Reason has this Passage been always praised by the Criticks?
+'Tis because the Figure is in itself beautiful and pathetick, but they
+did not examine into the Congruity and Bottom of the Thought.
+
+I return to my Paradox--That all these shining Strokes, to which they
+give the Name of Wit, never ought to be introduced into great Works
+made to instruct or to move; I'll even say they ought not to be found
+in Odes for Musick. Musick expresses Passions, Sentiments and Images:
+but what are the Concords that can be giv'n an Epigram? _Dryden_ was
+sometimes negligent, but he was always natural.
+
+In a Sermon of Doctor _South_, where he speaks of Man's Rectitude and
+Freedom from Sin before the Fall, are seen these Words:
+
+ "We were not born crooked, we learnt these Windings and
+ Turnings of the Serpent."
+
+I remember to have heard this Passage admired by several People: but
+who does not see that the Motions, _viz._ the Windings and Turnings of
+the Serpent's Body are here confounded with those of its Heart: and
+that at best, 'tis but a mere Point and Pleasantry.
+
+Certainly there's a great Impropriety in putting any kind of Smartness
+into Pieces of such a Nature as Dr. _South_'s; but what is still
+worse, we generally find these Smartnesses to be quite vague and
+superficial; they don't enter, but only play upon the Surface of the
+Soul.
+
+Had a certain polite Author been a Cotemporary of the
+Doctor's, he'd have told him that
+
+[Greek: TÍn men SpoudhhÍn dichph teirein ghelÙi, thyn de gelÙa spoudhÍ.]
+
+Humour is the only Test of Gravity; and Gravity of Humour. For a
+Subject which will not bear Raillery, is suspicious; and a Jest which
+will not bear a serious Examination, is certainly false Wit.
+
+These Sports of the Imagination, these Finesses, these Conceits, these
+glittering Strokes, these Gaieties, these little cut Sentences, these
+ingenious Prodigalities, which are lavished away in our Times, agree
+with none but little Works. The Front of St _Paul_'s Church is simple
+and majestick. A Cabinet may with Propriety enough contain little
+Ornaments. Have as much Wit as you will, or you can, in a Madrigal, in
+little light Verses, in the Scene of a Comedy, which is neither
+passionate or simple, in a Compliment, in a little Story, in a Letter
+where you would be merry yourself to make your Friends so.
+
+_Spencer_ was very well acquainted with this Art. In his Fairy Queen,
+you find hardly any thing but what is sublime and full of Imagery: but
+in his detached Pieces, such as the Hymn in Honour of Beauty, The Fate
+of the Butterfly, _Britain_'s Ida, &c. he gave a Loose to his Wit and
+Delicacy. The following Verses are Part of the Description of _Venus_
+asleep, in the last mention'd Poem:
+
+ _Her full large Eyes, in jetty-black array'd,
+ Proud Beauty not confin'd to red and white,
+ But oft herself in black more rich display'd;
+ Both Contraries did yet themselves unite,
+ To make one Beauty in different Delight:_
+ _A thousand Loves, sate playing in each Eye,
+ And smiling Mirth kissing fair Courtesy,
+ By sweet Persuasion won a bloodless Victory._
+
+ _Her Lips most happy each in other's Kisses,
+ From their so wish'd Imbracements seldom parted,
+ Yet seem'd to blush at such their wanton Blisses;
+ But when sweet Words their joining Sweets disparted,
+ To the Ear a dainty Musick they imparted;
+ Upon them fitly sate delightful Smiling,
+ A thousand Souls with pleasing Stealth beguiling:
+ Ah that such shews of Joys shou'd be all Joys exiling!_
+
+ _Lower two Breasts stand all their Beauties bearing,
+ Two Breasts as smooth and soft;--but oh alas!
+ Their smoothest Softness far exceeds comparing:
+ More smooth and soft--but naught that ever was,
+ Where they are first, deserves the second Place:
+ Yet each as soft, and each as smooth as other;
+ But when thou first try'st one, and then the other,
+ Each softer seems than each, and each than each seems smoother._
+
+These Lines (pretty as they are) would be unsufferable in a large and
+serious Work, nay, there are some People who tax them with being too
+extravagant even for the Poem where they stand; and in truth, their
+warmest Admirer can say no more than this:
+
+ _Nequeo Monstrare, & Sentio tantum._
+
+So far am I from reproaching _Waller_ with putting too much Wit in his
+Poems; that on the contrary, I have found too little, though he
+continually aims at it. They say that Dancing Masters never make a
+handsome Bow, because they take too much Pains. I think _Waller_ is
+often in this Case; his best Verses are studied; one finds he quite
+tires himself to find that which presents itself so naturally to
+_Rochester_, _Congreve_, and to so many more, who with all the Ease in
+the World, write these Bagatelles better than _Waller_ did with
+Labour.
+
+I know it signifies very little to the Affairs of the World, whether
+_Waller_ was or was not a great Genius; whether he only made a few
+pretty Things, or that all his Verses may stand for Models. But we who
+love the Arts, carry an attentive Eye on that which to the rest of the
+World is a Matter of mere Indifference. Good Taste is for us in
+Literature, what it is for Women in Dress; and provided we don't make
+our Opinions an Affair of Party, I think we may boldly say, that there
+are few excellent Things in _Waller_, and that _Cowley_ might be
+easily reduced to a few Pages.
+
+It is not that we would deprive them of their Reputation; 'tis only to
+inquire strictly what brought them that Reputation which is so much
+respected; and what are the true Beauties which made their Faults be
+overlooked. It must be known what ought to be followed in their Works,
+and what avoided; this is the true Fruit of a deep Study in the Belles
+Lettres; it is this that _Horace_ did, when he examined _Lucilius_
+critically. _Horace_ got Enemies by it, but he enlightened his Enemies
+themselves.
+
+This Desire of shining, and to say in a new Manner what others have
+said before, is the Foundation of new Expressions, as well as of
+far-fetched Thoughts.
+
+He that cannot shine by a Thought will distinguish himself by a Word.
+This is their Reason for substituting Placid for Peaceful, Joyous for
+Joyful, Meandring for Winding; and a hundred more Affectations of the
+same kind. If they were to go on at this Rate, the Language of
+_Shakespear, Milton, Dryden, Addison_ and _Pope_, would soon become
+quite superannuated. And why avoid an Expression in use, to introduce
+one which says precisely the same Thing? A new Word is never
+pardonable, but when it is absolutely necessary, intelligible and
+sonorous; they are forc'd to make them in Physics: A new Discovery, or
+a new Machine demands a new Word. But do they make new Discoveries in
+the human Heart? Is there any other Greatness than that of
+_Shakespear_ and _Milton_? Are there any other Passions than those
+that have been handled by _Otway_ and _Dryden_? Is there any other
+Evangelic Moral than that of Dr. _Tillotson_?
+
+Those who accuse the _English_ Language of not being copious enough,
+do, in Truth, find a Sterility, but 'tis in themselves.
+
+_Rem Verba Sequuntur_.
+
+When one is thoroughly struck with an Idea, when a Man of Sense,
+fill'd with Warmth, is in full Possession of his Thought, it comes
+from him all ornamented with suitable Expressions, as _Minerva_ sprang
+out, compleatly arm'd, from the Head of _Jupiter_.
+
+In short, the Conclusion of all this is, that you must never seek for
+far-fetch'd Thoughts, Conceits or Expressions; and that the Art of all
+great Works, is to reason well, without making many Arguments; to
+paint accurately, without Painting all; to move, without always
+exciting the Passions.
+
+[Illustration: Title page]
+
+ Sixtynine
+ ENIGMATICAL
+ Characters,
+ ALL
+ Very exactly drawn to the Life.
+
+ { Persons,
+ From several { Humours,
+ { Dispositions.
+
+ PLEASANT
+ And full of
+ DELIGHT.
+
+ * * * * *
+
+The Second Edition by the Author R.F. Esquire.
+
+ * * * * *
+
+_London_, Printed for _William Crook_, at the sign of the three Bibles
+on _Fleet Bridge_, 1665.
+
+ * * * * *
+
+
+
+
+CHARACTER.
+
+_Of one that_ Zanys _the good Companion_.
+
+
+He is a wit of an under Region, grosly imitating on the lower rope,
+what t'other does neatly on the higher; and is only for the laughter
+of the vulgar; whilst your wiser and better sort can scarcely smile at
+him: He talks nothing but kennel-raked fluff, and his discourse is
+rather like fruit cane up rotten from the ground, than freshly
+gathered from the Tree. He is so far from a courtly wit, as his
+breeding seems only to have been i' th' Suburbs; or at best, he seems
+only graduated good company in a Tavern (the Bedlam of wits) where men
+are mad rather than merry; here one breaking a jest on the Drawer, or
+a Candlestick; there another repeating the old end of a Play, or some
+bawdy song; this speaking bilk, that nonsense, whilst all with loud
+houting and laughter confound the _Fidlers_ noise, who may well be
+call'd a noise indeed, for no _Musick_ can be heard for them; so
+whilst he utters nothing but old stories, long since laught thridbare,
+or some stale jest broken twenty times before: His _mirth_ compared
+with theirs, new and at first hand, is just like _Brokers_ ware in
+comparison with _Mercers_, or _Long-lane_ compar'd unto _Cheap-side_:
+his wit being rather the _Hogs-heads_ than his own, favouring more of
+_Heidelberg_ than of _Hellicon_, and he rather a drunken than a good
+companion.
+
+ * * * * *
+
+
+
+
+CHARACTER.
+
+_Of a bold abusive Wit._
+
+
+He talks madly, _dash, dash,_ without any fear at all, and never cares
+how he _bespatters_ others, or defiles himself; nor ceases he till he
+has quite run himself out of breath; when no wonder, if to fools he
+seems to get the start of those who wisely pick out their way, and are
+as fearful of abusing others as themselves: He has the _Buffoons_
+priviledge, of saying or doing anything without exceptions, and he
+will call a jealous man _Cuckold_, a childe of doubtful birth
+_Bastard_, and a _Lady_ of suspected honor a _Whore_, and they but
+laugh at it; and all _Scholars_ are _Pedants_; and _Physicians_,
+_Quacks_ with him, when to be angry at it is the avowing it. Then in
+_Ladies_ chambers, he will tumble beds, and towse your _Ladies_ dress
+up unto the height, to the hazard of a _Bed-staff_ thrown at his head,
+or rap o're the fingers with a _Busk_, and that is all; only is this
+he is far worse than the _Buffoon_, since they study to _delight_,
+this only to _offend_; they to make _merry_, but this onely to make
+you _mad_, whence wo be t' ye of he discovers and _imperfection_ or
+_fault_ in you, for he never findes a _breach_ but he makes a _hole_
+of it; nor a _hole_ but he _tugs_ at it so long till he tear it quite;
+giving you for reason of his _incivility_, because (forsooth) _it
+troubled you_, which would make any civil man cease troubling you. So
+he wears his _wit_ as _Bravo's_ do their swords, to mischief and
+offend others, not as _Gentlemen_ to defend themselves: and tis
+_crime_ in him, what is _ornament_ in others; he being onely a _wit_
+at that, at which a good _wit_ is a _fool_. Especially he triumphs
+over your modest men; and when he meets with a _simple body_, passes
+for a _wit_, but a _wit_ indeed makes a _simplician_ of him; so goes
+he persecuting others till some one or other at last (as _chollerick_
+as he is _abusive) cudgel_ him for his pains; when he goes _grumbling_
+away in a mighty _choler_, saying, _They understand not jest_, when
+indeed tis rather _he_.
+
+ * * * * *
+
+
+
+
+THE ADVENTURER.
+
+_VOLUME THE FOURTH._
+
+ _--Tentanda via est; qu‚ me quoque possim
+ Tollere humo, victorque vir‚m volitare per ora._ VIRG.
+
+ On vent'rous wing in quest of praise I go,
+ And leave the gazing multitude below.
+
+A NEW EDITION, ILLUSTRATED WITH FRONTISPIECES.
+
+LONDON: PRINTED FOR SILVESTER DOIG, ROYAL EXCHANGE, EDINBURGH.
+
+1793.
+
+ * * * * *
+
+
+
+
+No. CXXVII. Tuesday, January 22. 1754.
+
+ _--Veteres ita miratur, laudatque!--_
+ HOR.
+ The wits of old he praises and admires.
+
+
+"It is very remarkable," says Addison, "that notwithstanding we fall
+short at present of the ancients in poetry, painting, oratory,
+history, architecture, and all the noble arts and sciences which
+depend more upon genius than experience; we exceed them as much in
+doggerel, humour, burlesque, and all the trivial arts of ridicule." As
+this fine observation stands at present only in the form of a general
+assertion, it deserves, I think, to be examined by a deduction of
+particulars, and confirmed by an allegation of examples, which may
+furnish an agreeable entertainment to those who have ability and
+inclination to remark the revolutions of human wit.
+
+That Tasso, Ariosto, and Camoens, the three most celebrated of modern
+Epic Poets, are infinitely excelled in propriety of design, of
+sentiment, and style, by Horace and Virgil, it would be serious
+trifling to attempt to prove: but Milton, perhaps, will not so easily
+resign his claim to equality, if not to superiority. Let it, however,
+be remembered, that if Milton be enabled to dispute the prize with the
+great champions of antiquity, it is entirely owing to the sublime
+conceptions he has copied from the book of God. These, therefore, must
+be taken away before we begin to make a just estimate of his genius;
+and from what remains, it cannot, I presume, be said with candour and
+impartiality, that he has excelled Homer in the sublimity and variety
+of his thoughts, or the strength and majesty of his diction.
+
+Shakespear, Corneille, and Racine, are the only modern writers of
+Tragedy, that we can venture to oppose to Eschylus, Sophocles, and
+Euripides. The first is an author so uncommon and eccentric, that we
+can scarcely try him by dramatic rules. In strokes of nature and
+character, he yields not to the Greeks: in all other circumstances
+that constitute the excellence of the drama, he is vastly inferior. Of
+the three moderns, the most faultless is the tender and exact Racine:
+but he was ever ready to acknowledge, that his capital beauties were
+borrowed from his favourite Euripides; which, indeed, cannot escape
+the observation of those who read with attention his PhÊdra and
+Andromache. The pompous and truly Roman sentiments of Corneille are
+chiefly drawn from Luoan and Tacitus; the former of whom, by a strange
+perversion of taste, he is known to have preferred to Virgil. His
+diction is not so pure and mellifluous, his characters not so various
+and just, nor his plots so regular, so interesting, and simple, as
+those of his pathetic rival. It is by this simplicity of fable alone,
+when every single act, and scene, and speech, and sentiment, and word,
+concur to accelerate the intended event, that the Greek tragedies kept
+the attention of the audience immoveably fixed upon one principal
+object, which must be necessarily lessened, and the ends of the drama
+defeated, by the mazes and intricacies of modern plots.
+
+The assertion of Addison with respect to the first particular,
+regarding the higher kinds of poetry, will remain unquestionably true,
+till nature in some distant age, for in the present, enervated with
+luxury, she seems incapable of such an effort, shall produce some
+transcendent genius, of power to eclipse the Iliad and the Edipus.
+
+The superiority of the ancient artists in Painting, is not perhaps so
+clearly manifest. They were ignorant, it will be said, of light, of
+shade, and perspective; and they had not the use of oil colours, which
+are happily calculated to blend and unite without harshness and
+discordance, to give a boldness and relief to the figures, and to form
+those middle Teints which render every well-wrought piece a closer
+resemblance of nature. Judges of the truest taste do, however, place
+the merit of colouring far below that of justness of design, and force
+of expression. In these two highest and most important excellencies,
+the ancient painters were eminently skilled, if we trust the
+testimonies of Pliny, Quintilian, and Lucian; and to credit them we
+are obliged, if we would form to ourselves any idea of these artists
+at all; for there is not one Grecian picture remaining; and the
+Romans, some few of whose works have descended to this age, could
+never boast of a Parrhasius or Apelles, a Zeuxis, Timanthes, or
+Protogenes, of whose performances the two accomplished critics above
+mentioned, speaks in terms of rapture and admiration. The statues that
+have escaped the ravages of time, as the Hercules and Laocoon for
+instance, are still a stronger demonstration of the power
+of the Grecian artists in expressing the passions; for what was
+executed in marble, we have presumptive evidence to think, might also
+have been executed in colours. Carlo Marat, the last valuable painter
+of Italy, after copying the head of the Venus in the Medicean
+collection three hundred times, generously confessed, that he could
+not arrive at half the grace and perfection of his model. But to speak
+my opinion freely on a very disputable point, I must own, that if the
+moderns approach the ancients in any of the arts here in question,
+they approach them nearest in The Art of Painting, The human mind can
+with difficulty conceive any thing more exalted, than "The Last
+Judgment" of Michael Angelo, and "The Transfiguration" of Raphael.
+What can be more animated than Raphael's "Paul preaching at Athens?"
+What more tender and delicate than Mary holding the child Jesus, in
+his famous "Holy Family?" What more graceful than "The Aurora" of
+Guido? What more deeply moving than "The Massacre of the Innocents" by
+Le Brun?
+
+But no modern Orator can dare to enter the lists with Demosthenes and
+Tully. We have discourses, indeed, that may be admired, for their
+perspicuity, purity, and elegance; but can produce none that abound in
+a sublime which whirls away the auditor like a mighty torrent, and
+pierces the inmost recesses of his heart like a flash of lightning;
+which irresistibly and instantaneously convinces, without leaving, him
+leisure to weigh the motives of conviction. The sermons of Bourdaloue,
+the funeral orations of Bossuet, particularly that on the death of
+Henrietta, and the pleadings of Pelisson, for his disgraced patron
+Fouquet, are the only pieces of eloquence I can recollect, that bear
+any resemblance to the Greek or Roman orator; for in England we have
+been particularly unfortunate in our attempts to be eloquent, whether
+in parliament, in the pulpit, or at the bar. If it be urged, that the
+nature of modern politics and laws excludes the pathetic and the
+sublime, and confines the speaker to a cold argumentative method, and
+a dull detail of proof and dry matters of fact; yet, surely, the
+Religion of the moderns abounds in topics so incomparably noble and
+exalted as might kindle the flames of genuine oratory in the most
+frigid and barren genius much more might this success be reasonably
+expected from such geniuses as Britain can enumerate; yet no piece of
+this sort, worthy applause or notice, has ever yet appeared.
+
+The few, even among professed scholars, that are able to read the
+ancient Historians in their inimitable, originals, are startled at the
+paradox, of Bolingbroke who boldly prefers Guicciardini to Thucydides;
+that is, the most verbose and tedious to the most comprehensive and
+concise of writers, and a collector of facts to one who was himself an
+eye-witness and a principal actor in the important story he relates.
+And, indeed, it may be well presumed, that the ancient histories
+exceed the modern from this single consideration, that the latter are
+commonly compiled by recluse scholars, unpractised in business, war,
+and politics; whilst the former are many of them written by ministers,
+commanders, and princes themselves. We have, indeed, a few flimsy
+memoirs, particularly in a neighbouring nation, written by persons
+deeply interested in the transactions they describe; but these I
+imagine will not be compared to "The retreat of the ten thousand"
+which Xenophon himself conducted and related, nor to "the Galic war"
+of CÊsar, nor "The precious fragments" of Polybius, which our modern
+generals and ministers would not have discredited by diligently
+perusing, and making them the models of their conduct as well as of
+their style. Are the reflections of Machiavel so subtle and refined as
+those of Tacitus? Are the portraits of Thuanus so strong and
+expressive as those of Sallust and Plutarch? Are the narrations of
+Davila so lively and animated, or do his sentiments breathe such a
+love of liberty and virtue, as those of Livy and Herodotus?
+
+The supreme excellence of the ancient Architecture the last particular
+to be touched, I shall not enlarge upon, because it has never once
+been called in question, and because it is abundantly testified by the
+awful ruins of amphitheatres, aqueducts, arches, and columns, that are
+the daily objects of veneration, though not of imitation. This art, it
+is observable; has never been improved in later ages in one single
+instance; but every just and legitimate edifice is still formed
+according to the five old established orders, to which human wit has
+never been able to add a sixth of equal symmetry and strength.
+
+Such, therefore, are the triumphs of the Ancients, especially the
+Greeks, over the Moderns. They may, perhaps, be not unjustly ascribed
+to a genial climate, that gave such a happy temperament of body as was
+most proper to produce fine sensations; to a language most harmonious,
+copious, and forcible; to the public encouragements and honours
+bestowed on the cultivators of literature; to the emulation excited
+among the generous youth, by exhibitions of their performances at the
+solemn games; to an inattention to the arts of lucre and commerce,
+which engross and debase the minds of the moderns; and above all, to
+an exemption from the necessity of overloading their natural faculties
+with learning and languages, with which we in these later times are
+obliged to qualify ourselves, for writers, if we expect to be read.
+
+It is said by Voltaire, with his usual liveliness, "We shall never
+again behold the time, when a Duke de la Rochefoucault might go from
+the conversation of a Pascal or Arnauld, to the theatre of Corneille."
+This reflection may be more justly applied to the ancients, and it may
+with much greater truth be said; "The age will never again return,
+when a Pericles, after walking with Plato in a portico, built by
+Phidias, and painted by Apelles, might repair to hear a pleading of
+Demosthenes, or a tragedy of Sophocles."
+
+I shall next examine the other part of Addison's assertion, that the
+moderns excell the ancients in all the arts of Ridicule, and assign
+the reasons of this supposed excellence.
+
+
+No. CXXXIII. Tuesday, February 12. 1754.
+
+ _At nostri proavi Plautinos et numeros et
+ Laudeveres sales; nimium patienter utrumque,
+ Ne dicam stule, mirati; si modo ego et vos
+ Scimus inurbanum lepido seponere dicto_.
+ HOR.
+
+ "And yet our fires with joy could Plautus hear;
+ Gay were his jests, his numbers charm'd their ear."
+ Let me not say too lavishly they prais'd;
+ But sure their judgment was full cheaply pleas'd,
+ If you or I with taste are haply blest,
+ To know a clownish from a courtly jest.
+ FRANCIS.
+
+The fondness I have so frequently manifested for the ancients, has not
+so far blinded my judgment, as to render me unable to discern, or
+unwilling to acknowledge, the superiority of the moderns, in pieces of
+Humour and Ridicule. I shall, therefore, confirm the general assertion
+of Addison, part of which hath already been examined.
+
+Comedy, Satire, and Burlesque, being the three chief branches of
+ridicule, it is necessary for us to compare together the most admired
+performances of the ancients and moderns, in these three kinds of
+writing, to qualify us justly to censure or commend, as the beauties
+or blemishes of each party may deserve.
+
+As Aristophanes wrote to please the multitude, at a time when the
+licentiousness of the Athenians was boundless, his pleasantries are
+coarse and impolite, his characters extravagantly forced, and
+distorted with unnatural deformity, like the monstrous caricaturas of
+Callot. He is full of the grossest obscenity, indecency, and
+inurbanity; and as the populace always delight to hear their superiors
+abused and misrepresented, he scatters the rankest calumnies on the
+wisest and worthiest personages of his country. His style is unequal,
+occasioned by a frequent introduction of parodies on Sophocles and
+Euripides. It is, however, certain, that he abounds in artful
+allusions to the state of Athens at the time when he wrote; and,
+perhaps, he is more valuable, considered as a political satirist than
+a writer of comedy.
+
+Plautus has adulterated a rich vein of genuine wit and humour, with a
+mixture of the basest buffoonry. No writer seems to have been born
+with a more forcible or more fertile genius for comedy. He has drawn
+some characters with incomparable spirit: we are indebted to him for
+the first good miser, and for that worn-out character among the
+Romans, a boastful Thraso. But his love degenerates into lewdness; and
+his jests are insupportably low and illiberal, and fit only for "the
+dregs of Romulus" to use and to hear; he has furnished examples of
+every species of true and false wit, even down to a quibble and a pun.
+Plautus lived in an age when the Romans were but just emerging into
+politeness; and I cannot forbear thinking, that if he had been
+reserved for the age of Augustus, he would have produced more perfect
+plays than even the elegant disciple of Menander.
+
+Delicacy, sweetness, and correctness, are the characteristics of
+Terence. His polite images are all represented in the most clear and
+perspicuous expression; but his characters are too general and
+uniform, nor are they marked with those discriminating peculiarities
+that distinguish one man from another; there is a tedious and
+disgusting sameness of incidents in his plots, which, as hath been
+observed in a former paper, are too complicated and intricate. It may
+be added, that he superabounds in soliloquies; and that nothing can be
+more inartificial or improper, than the manner in which he hath
+introduced them.
+
+To these three celebrated ancients, I venture to oppose singly the
+matchless Moliere, as the most consummate master of comedy that former
+or latter ages have produced. He was not content with painting obvious
+and common characters, but set himself closely to examine the
+numberless varieties of human nature: he soon discovered every
+difference, however minute; and by a proper management could make it
+striking: his portraits, therefore, though they appear to be
+new, are yet discovered to be just. The Tartuffe and the Misantrope
+are the most singular, and yet, perhaps, the most proper and perfect
+characters that comedy can represent; and his Miser excels that of any
+other nation. He seems to have hit upon the true nature of comedy;
+which is, to exhibit one singular, and unfamiliar character, by such a
+series of incidents as may best contribute to shew its singularities.
+All the circumstances in the Misantrope tend to manifest the peevish
+and captious disgust of the hero; all the circumstances in the
+Tartuffe are calculated to shew the treachery of an accomplished
+hypocrite. I am sorry that no English writer of comedy can be produced
+as a rival to Moliere: although it must be confessed, that Falstaff
+and Morose are two admirable characters, excellently, supported and
+displayed; for Shakespear has contrived all the incidents to
+illustrate the gluttony, lewdness, cowardice, and boastfulness of the
+fat old knight: and Jonson, has, with equal art, displayed the oddity
+of a wimsical humourist, who could endure no kind of noise.
+
+Will it be deemed a paradox, to assert, that Congreve's dramatic
+persons have no striking and natural characteristic? His Fondlewife
+and Foresight are but faint portraits of common characters, and Ben is
+a forced and unnatural caricatura. His plays appear not to be
+legitimate comedies, but strings of repartees and sallies of wit, the
+most poignant and polite indeed, but unnatural and ill placed. The
+trite and trivial character of a fop, hath strangely engrossed the
+English stage, and given an insipid similiarity to our best comic
+pieces: originals can never be wanting in such a kingdom as this,
+where each man follows his natural inclinations and propensities, if
+our writers would really contemplate nature, and endeavour to open
+those mines of humour which have been so long and so unaccountably
+neglected.
+
+If we proceed to consider the Satirists of antiquity, I shall not
+scruple to prefer Boileau and Pope to Horace and Juvenal; the arrows
+of whose ridicule are more sharp, in proportion as they are more
+polished. That reformers should abound in obscenities, as is the case
+of the two Roman poets, is surely an impropriety of the most
+extraordinary kind; the courtly Horace also sometimes sinks into mean
+and farcical abuse, as in the first lines of the seventh satire of the
+first book; but Boileau and Pope have given to their Satire the Cestus
+of Venus: their ridicule is concealed and oblique; that of the Romans
+direct and open. The tenth satire of Bioleau on women is more bitter,
+and more decent and elegant, than the sixth of Juvenal on the same
+subject; and Pope's epistle to Mrs. Blount far excels them both, in
+the artfulness and delicacy with which it touches female foibles. I
+may add, that the imitations of Horace by Pope, and of Juvenal by
+Johnson, are preferable to their originals in the appositeness of
+their examples, and in the poignancy of their ridicule. Above all, the
+Lutrin, the Rape of the Lock, the Dispensary and the Dunciad, cannot
+be parallelled by any works that the wittiest of the ancients can
+boast of: for, by assuming the form of the epopea, they have acquired
+a dignity and gracefulness, which all satires delivered merely in the
+poet's own person must want, and with which the satirists of antiquity
+were wholly unacquainted; for the Batrachomuomachia of Homer cannot be
+considered as the model of these admirable pieces.
+
+Lucian is the greatest master of Burlesque among the ancients: but the
+travels of Gulliver, though indeed evidently copied from his true
+history, do as evidently excel it. Lucian sets out with informing his
+readers, that he is in jest, and intends to ridicule some of the
+incredible stories in Ctesias and Herodotus: this introduction surely
+enfeebles his satire, and defeats his purpose. The true history
+consists only of the most wild, monstrous, and miraculous persons and
+accidents: Gulliver has a concealed meaning, and his dwarfs and giants
+convey tacitly some moral or political instruction. The Charon, or the
+prospect, (Greek: epischopoyntes) one of the dialogues of Lucian, has
+likewise given occasion to that agreeable French Satire, entitled,
+"_Le Diable Boiteux_," or "The Lame Devil;" which has highly improved
+on its original by a greater variety of characters and descriptions,
+lively remarks, and interesting adventures. So if a parallel be drawn
+between Lucian and Cervantes, the ancient will still appear to
+disadvantage: the burlesque of Lucian principally consists in making
+his gods and philosophers speak and act like the meanest of the
+people; that of Cervantes arises from the solemn and important air
+with which the most idle and ridiculous actions are related; and is,
+therefore, much more striking and forcible. In a word, Don Quixote,
+and its copy Hudibras, the Splendid Shilling, the Adventures of Gil
+Blas, the Tale of a Tub, and the Rehearsal, are pieces of humour which
+antiquity cannot equal, much less excel.
+
+Theophrastus must yield to La Bruyere for his intimate knowledge of
+human nature; and the Athenians never produced a writer whose humour
+was so exquisite as that of Addison, or who delineated and supported a
+character with so much nature and true pleasantry, as that of Sir
+Roger de Coverly. It ought, indeed, to be remembered, that every
+species of wit written in distant times and in dead languages, appears
+with many disadvantages to present readers, from their ignorance of
+the manners and customs alluded to and exposed; but the grosness, the
+rudeness, and indelicacy of the ancients, will, notwithstanding,
+sufficiently appear, even from the sentiments of such critics as
+Cicero and Quintilian, who mention corporal defects and deformities as
+proper objects of raillery.
+
+If it be now asked to what can we ascribe this superiority of the
+moderns in all the species of ridicule? I answer, to the improved
+state of conversation. The great geniuses of Greece and Rome were
+formed during the times of a republican government: and though it be
+certain, as Longinus asserts, that democracies are the nurseries of
+true sublimity; yet monarchies and courts are more productive of
+politeness. The arts of civility, and the decencies of conversation,
+as they unite men more closely, and bring them more frequently
+together, multiply opportunities of observing those incongruities and
+absurdities of behaviour, on which ridicule is founded. The ancients
+had more liberty and seriousness; the moderns have more luxury and
+laughter.
+
+ * * * * *
+
+
+
+
+[Illustration: Title page]
+
+THE _Gentleman's Magazine_. OR, MONTHLY INTELLIGENCER,
+
+For the YEAR 1732.
+
+CONTAINING
+
+I. An impartial _VIEW_ of the various _Weekly_ ESSAYS, _Controversial,
+Humorous_, and _Satirical; Religious, Moral,_ and _Political_.
+
+II. Debates in PARLIAMENT.
+
+III. Select Pieces of _POETRY_.
+
+IV. A succinct Account of the most _remarkable Transactions_ and
+_Occurrences_, Domestick and Foreign.
+
+V. _Births, Marriages, Deaths, Promotions._
+
+VI. The Prices of Goods and Stocks; Bill of Mortality; Bankrupts
+declared, &_c_.
+
+VII. A Register of Books and Pamphlets published.
+
+WITH A TABLE of CONTENTS to each Month. ALSO ALPHABETICAL INDEXES of
+the NAMES of Persons mention'd and Things treated of throughout the
+Whole.
+
+VOL. II.
+
+_Collected chiefly from the_ Public Papers _by_ SILVANUS URBAN.
+
+_Prodesse & delettare._ [Illustration] _E Pluribus Unum_.
+
+_LONDON_, Printed and Sold at ST JOHN'S GATE; by F. JEFFERIES in
+_Ludgate-street,_ and by most Booksellers in Town and Country.
+
+ * * * * *
+
+
+
+
+OF WIT
+
+
+_WIT_ in K. _Charles_ IId's Reign, seem'd to be the Fashion of the
+Times; in the next Reign it gave way to Politicks and Religion; while
+K. _William_ was on the Throne, it reviv'd under the Protection of
+Lord _Somers_ and some other Nobleman, and then those Geniuses
+received that Tincture of Elegance and Politeness which afterwards
+made such a Figure in the _Tatlers_, _Spectators_, &c. thro' the
+greatest Part of the Reign of Q. _Anne_: But since it has broke out
+only by Fits and Starts. Few People of Distinction trouble themselves
+about the Name of Wit, fewer understand it, and hardly any have
+honoured it with their Example. In the next Class of People it seems
+best known, most admired, and most frequently practiced; but their
+Stations in Life are not eminent enough to dazzle us into Imitation.
+Wit is a Start of Imagination in the Speaker, that strikes the
+Imagination of the Hearer with an Idea of Beauty, common to both; and
+the immediate Result of the Comparison is the Flash of Joy that
+attends it; it stands in the same Regard to Sense, or Wisdom, as
+Lightning to the Sun, suddenly kindled and as suddenly gone; it as
+often arises from the Defect of the Mind, as from its Strength and
+Capacity. This is evident in those who are _Wits_ only, without being
+grave or wise, Just, solid, and lasting Wit is the Result of fine
+Imagination, finished Study, and a happy Temper of Body. As no one
+pleases more than the Man of Wit, none is more liable to offend;
+therefore he shou'd have a Fancy quick to conceive, Knowledge, good
+Humour, and Discretion to direct the whole. Wit often leads a Man into
+Misfortunes, that his Prudence wou'd have avoided; as it is the Means
+of raising a Reputation, so it sometimes destroys it. He who affects
+to be always witty, renders himself cheap, and, perhaps, ridiculous.
+The great Use and Advantage of Wit is to render the Owner agreeable,
+by making him instrumental to the Happiness of others. When such a
+Person appears among his Friends, an Air of Pleasure and Satisfaction
+diffuses itself over every Face. _Wit_, so used, is an Instrument of
+the sweetest Musick in the Hands of an Artist, commanding, soothing,
+and modulating the Passions into Harmony and Peace. Neither is this
+the only Use of it; 'tis a sharp Sword, as well as a musical
+Instrument, and ought to be drawn against Folly and Affectation. There
+is at the same time an humble Ignorance, a modest Weakness, that ought
+to be spar'd; they are unhappy already in the Consciousness of their
+own Defects, and 'tis fighting with the Lame and Sick to be severe
+upon them. The Wit that genteely glances at a Foible, is smartly
+retorted, or generously forgiven; because the Merit of the Reprover is
+as well known as the Merit of the Reproved. In such delicate
+Conversations, Mirth, temper'd with good Manners, is the only Point in
+View, and we grow gay and polite together; perhaps there's no Moment
+of our Lives so sincerely happy, certainly none so innocent. Wit is a
+Quality which some possess, and all covet; Youth affects it, Folly
+dreads it, Age despises it, and Dulness abhors it. Some Authors wou'd
+persuade us, that Wit is owing to a double Cause; one, the Desire of
+pleasing others, and one of recommending ourselves: The first is made
+a Merit in the Owners, and is therefore rang'd among the Virtues; the
+last is stiled Vanity, and therefore a Vice; tho' this is an erroneous
+Distinction, as _Wit_ was never possess'd by any without both; for no
+Man endeavours to excell without being conscious of it, and that
+Consciousness will produce Vanity, let us disguise it how we please.
+Upon the whole, Vanity is inseparable from the; Heart of Man; where
+there is Excellency, it may be endur'd; where there is none, it may be
+censur'd, but never remov'd.
+
+(From _The Weekly Register_, July 22, 1732, No. 119, as reprinted in
+_The Gentleman's 'Magazine_, II, July, 1732, pp. 861-2.)
+
+*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 14973 ***
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+<body>
+<div>*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 14973 ***</div>
+
+<h4>Series One:</h4>
+<br>
+<br>
+
+<hr style="width: 75%;">
+<hr style="width: 100%;">
+<h1><i>Essays on Wit</i></h1>
+<hr style="width: 100%;">
+<hr style="width: 75%;">
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+<h2>No. 2</h2>
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+
+
+<p><a href="#AN_ESSAY_ON_WIT"><b><i>Essay on Wit</i></b></a>
+(1748);</p>
+<p>Richard Flecknoe's <a href="#ZANYS"><b><i>Of one that Zany's the good
+Companion</i></b></a> and<a href="#Of_a_bold_abusive_Wit"><b><i> Of a bold abusive Wit</i></b></a> (second edition, 1665);</p>
+<p>
+Joseph Warton, <a href="#The_adventurer"><b><i>The Adventurer</i></b></a>, Nos. 127 and 133 (1754);<br>
+
+<a href="#OF_WIT"><b><i>Of Wit</i></b></a> <i>(Weekly Register</i>, 1732).</p>
+
+
+<p>
+With <a href="#INTRODUCTION"><b><i>an Introduction</i></b></a> to the Series
+on Wit by Edward N. Hooker</p>
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+<h4>The Augustan Reprint Society<br>
+November, 1946 <br>
+<i>Price</i>: 75c</h4>
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+<center>
+<pre>
+Membership in the Augustan Reprint Society entitles the
+subscriber to six publications issued each year. The annual
+membership fee is $2.50. Address subscriptions and
+communications to the Augustan Reprint Society in care of
+one of the General Editors.
+
+General Editors:
+Richard C. Boys, University of Michigan, Ann Arbor, Michigan;
+Edward N. Hooker, H.I. Swedenberg, Jr., University of
+ California, Los Angeles 24, California.
+
+Editorial Advisors:
+Louis L. Bredvold, University of Michigan;
+James L. Clifford, Columbia University;
+Benjamin Boyce, University of Nebraska;
+Cleanth Brooks, Louisiana State University;
+Arthur Friedman, University of Chicago;
+James R. Sutherland, Queen Mary College
+ University of London.</pre></center>
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+<h2><a name="INTRODUCTION" id="INTRODUCTION">INTRODUCTION TO THE SERIES ON WIT</a></h2>
+<br>
+<p>The age of Dryden and Pope was an age of wit, but there were few who
+could explain precisely what they meant by the term. A thing so
+multiform and. Protean escaped the bonds of logic and definition. In
+his sermon &quot;Against Foolish Talking and Jesting&quot; the learned Dr. Isaac
+Barrow attempted to describe some of the forms which it took; the
+forms were many, and it is difficult to discover any element which
+they held in common. Nevertheless Barrow ventured a summary:</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p>It is, in short, a manner of speaking out of the simple and
+ plain way, (such as Reason teacheth and proveth things by,)
+ which by a pretty surprizing uncouthness in conceit of
+ expression doth affect and amuse the fancy, stirring in it
+ some wonder, and breeding some delight thereto.</p></div>
+
+<p>And about sixty years later, despite the work of Hobbes and Locke in
+calling attention to the importance of semantics, the confusion still
+existed. According to John Oldmixon (<i>Essay on Criticism</i>, 1727, p.
+21), &quot;Wit and Humour, Wit and good Sense, Wit and Wisdom, Wit and
+Reason, Wit and Craft; nay, Wit and Philosophy, are with us almost the
+same Things.&quot; Some such confusion is apparent in the definition
+presented by the <i>Essay on Wit</i> (1748, p. 6).</p>
+
+<p>In general it was recognized that there were two main kinds of wit.
+Both fancy and judgment, said Hobbes (<i>Human Nature</i>, X, sect. 4), are
+usually understood in the term <i>wit</i>; and wit seems to be &quot;a tenuity
+and agility of spirits,&quot; opposed to the sluggishness of spirits
+assumed to be characteristic of dull people. Sometimes wit was used in
+this sense to translate the words <i>ingenium</i> or <i>l'esprit</i>. But
+Hobbes's disciple Walter Charleton objected to making it the
+equivalent of <i>ingenium</i>, which, he said, rather signified a man's
+natural inclination&mdash;that is, genius. Instead, he described wit as
+either the faculty of understanding, or an act or effect of that
+faculty; and understanding is made up of both judgment and
+Imagination. The Ample or Happy Wit exhibits a fine blend of the two
+(<i>Brief Discourse concerning the Different Wits of Men</i>, 1669, pp. 10,
+17-19). In this sense wit combines quickness and solidity of mind.</p>
+
+<p>In the other, and more restricted sense, wit was made identical with
+fancy (or imagination) and distinguished sharply from reason or
+judgment. So Hobbes, recording a popular meaning of wit, remarked
+(<i>Leviathan</i>. I, viii) that people who discover rarely observed
+similitudes in objects that otherwise are much unlike, are said to
+have a good wit. And judgment, directly opposed to it, was taken to be
+the faculty of discerning differences in objects that are
+superficially alike. (Between this idea of wit as discovering likeness
+in things unlike, and the Platonic idea of discovering the One in the
+Many, the Augustans made no connection.) A similar distinction between
+wit and judgment was made by Charleton, Robert Boyle, John Locke, and
+many others. The full implication lying in Hobbes's definition can be
+seen in Walter Charleton, who said (<i>Brief Discourse</i>, pp. 20-21) that
+imagination (or wit) is the faculty <ins class="correction"
+Title="Transcriber's note: original reads 'be'">
+by</ins> which &quot;we conceive some certain
+similitude in objects really unlike, and pleasantly confound them in
+discourse: Which by its unexpected Fineness and allusion, surprizing
+the Hearer, renders him less curious of the truth of what is said.&quot; In
+short, wit is delightful, but, because it leads away from
+<ins class="correction"
+Title="Transcriber's note: original reads 'tu'">
+truth</ins>,
+unprofitable and, it may be, even dangerous.</p>
+
+<p>The identification of wit with fancy gave it a lowly role in Augustan
+thinking; and also in literary prose, which was supposed to be the
+language of reason (cf. Donald F. Bond, &quot;'Distrust' of Imagination in
+English Neo-<ins class="correction" Title="Transcriber's note: original
+reads 'Classiecism'">
+Classicism</ins>,&quot; <i>PQ</i>, XIV, 54-69). What of its
+position in poetry? According to Hobbes, poetry must exhibit both
+judgment and fancy, but fancy should dominate; and the work of fancy
+is to adorn discourse with tropes and figures, to please by
+extravagance, to disguise meaning, and to create pleasant
+illusions. One of Hobbes's followers announced that fancy must have
+the upper hand because all poems please chiefly by novelty. While they
+made wit the most essential element in poetry, they made it trivial
+and empty, and thereby helped to bring poetry itself into contempt.</p>
+
+<p>Partly to oppose this low opinion of poetry, the neo-Aristotelians
+among the critics began to stress the view that fable, design, and
+structure were the really essential elements in poetry, and that these
+were the product of reason, or judgment. And because reason was the
+means
+<ins class="correction"
+Title="Transcriber's note: original reads 'be'">
+by</ins> which truth was discovered, poetry by virtue of its
+rational framework became capable of revealing and communicating
+truth&mdash;that is, of instructing. In this conception of poetry there was
+little glory left for wit. It was relegated to be used for color and
+adornment in serious poetry, or to furnish the substance of the
+&quot;little&quot; poetry which could not boast of design or
+structure. Thus, the <i>Essay on Wit</i> invites the poet. (p.
+15):</p>
+
+<div class="blkquot"><p>
+Have as much Wit as you will, or you can, in a Madrigal, in
+little light Verses, in the Scene of a Comedy, which is
+neither passionate or simple, in a Compliment, in a little
+Story, in a Letter where you would be merry yourself to make
+your Friends so.</p></div>
+
+<p>Be witty in these playful varieties of poetry, because wit in a large
+and serious work would toe insufferable.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;These Sports of the Imagination, these Finesses, these Conceits,
+these glittering Strokes, these Gaieties, these little cut Sentences,
+these ingenious Prodigalities&quot; in which wit is expressed might be
+either sober or funny. Most of the examples in the <i>Essay on Wit</i> are
+of the sober kind, coming under the order of wit because they are
+pretty and diverting fancies. But by the 1690's there had been a clear
+tendency to associate wit with mirth, and often with satire. By 1726
+James Arbuckle could write (<i>A Collection of Letters</i>, 1729, II, 72):
+&quot;... Satire and Ridicule, which are the main Provocatives to Laughter,
+still keep their ground among us, and are reckoned the chief
+Embellishments of Discourse by all who aim at the Character of Wits.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>The end of wit was to surprise and delight. One may surprise by
+novelty, but the easiest road to the goal is audacity; and the
+subjects which lent themselves most readily to audacity were sex and
+religion. The treatment of the latter proved especially troublesome to
+good men like Blackmore, and the frequency of portraits and characters
+of the Profance Wit shows that many people were disturbed. Shaftesbury
+in <i>Sensus Communis</i> (1709) tried to justify the use of wit in
+discussing religion. For the rest of the century Shaftesbury's
+position was the center of heated debate, with Akenside supporting,
+and John Brown and Warburton opposing, the employment of wit in
+religion; and the <i>Gentleman's Magazine</i> is full of the arguments of
+lesser men who took sides. The author of the <i>Essay on Wit</i> places
+himself firmly beside Shaftesbury when he remarks (p. 14) that &quot;a
+Subject which will not bear Raillery, is suspicious.&quot; The controversy
+is reviewed in an article by A.O. Aldridge, called &quot;Shaftesbury and
+the Test of Truth&quot; (<i>PMLA</i>, LX, 129-156).</p>
+
+<p>Wit was taken to be the source, of tropes, and figures of speech, of
+all the color and adornments of rhetoric; and the old tradition of
+rhetoric, handed down from the Renaissance, tended to regard tropes
+and figures as mere ornament, a means of decorating the surface, an
+artful prettifying of a subject in order that it might please. For
+this reason wit was likely to be considered out of place in serious
+works which called for naturalness and passion. The objection to the
+simile in the language of passion was an old note in English criticism
+(cf. Dennis, <i>Critical Works</i>, I, 424); but the author of the <i>Essay
+on Wit</i> in condemning glittering strokes and ingenious prodigalities
+in impassioned literature shows by his phrasing that he is following
+Father Bouhours (cf. Manlere die Bien Penser, Amsterdam, 1688, pp.
+8-9, 234, 296, 388).</p>
+
+<p>In <i>Spectator</i>, no. 249, Addison entered the contest known as the
+Battle of the Books, and lined himself up squarely on the side of the
+Ancients. The ancients, he said, surpassed the moderns in poetry,
+painting, oratory, history, architecture, and, in fact, all arts and
+sciences which depend more on genius than on experience. It was no
+lightening of the judgment when he added that the moderns surpass the
+ancients in doggerel, humour burlesque, and all the trivial arts of
+ridicule, the arts of the &quot;unlucky little wits.&quot; So degraded had wit
+become! In the <i>Adventurer</i>, nos. 127 and 133, Joseph Warton showed
+himself to be essentially in agreement with Addison's verdict,
+differing only in thinking that a few moderns might compare with the
+ancients in works of genius. He appears somewhat less scornful of wit,
+recognizing its part in the arts of civility and the decencies of
+conversation; and yet he associates It with ridicule, laughter, and
+luxury, and makes it the pleasant plaything of gentlemen.</p>
+
+<p>Occasionally there were attempts to restore wit to its pristine glory,
+to the position it had occupied before it was tied to mirth and
+ridicule, when Atterbury could thus define it: &quot;Wit, indeed, as it
+implies, a certain uncommon Reach and Vivacity of Thought, is an
+Excellent Talent; very fit to be employ'd in the Search of Truth....&quot;
+So the anonymous author of <i>A Satyr upon a Late Pamphlet Entitled, A
+Satyr against Wit</i> (1700) could rhapsodize:</p>
+
+<p>
+&nbsp;&nbsp;Wit is a Radiant Spark of Heav'nly Fire,<br>
+&nbsp;&nbsp;Full of Delight, and worthy of Desire;<br>
+&nbsp;&nbsp;Bright as the Ruler of the Realms of Day,<br>
+&nbsp;&nbsp;Sun of the Soul, with in-born Beauties gay....
+</p>
+
+<p>So Corbyn Morris in his <i>Essay towards Fixing the True Standards of
+Wit, Humour, Raillery, Satire, and Ridicule</i>, 1744, probably the best
+and clearest treatment of the subject in the first half of the
+eighteenth century, wrote (p. 1): &quot;Wit is the Lustre resulting from
+the quick Elucidation of one Subject, by a just and unexpected
+Arrangement of it with another Subject.&quot; And so the author of the
+essay &quot;Of Wit&quot; in the <i>Weekly Register</i> for July 22, 1732, ventured
+his opinion (reprinted in the <i>Gentleman's Magazine</i>, II, 861-862):</p>
+
+<div class="blkquot">
+<p>Wit is a Start of Imagination in the Speaker, that strikes
+the Imagination of the Hearer with an Idea of Beauty common
+to both; and the immediate Result of the Comparison is the
+Flash of Joy that attends it; it stands in the same Regard
+to Sense, or Wisdom, as lightning to the Sun, suddenly
+kindled and as suddenly gone....
+</p></div>
+
+<p>But for the most part wit was becoming an expression of mirth or
+ridicule in which fancy was primarily involved; at its best wit was
+coupled with politeness and elegance in conversation, and at its worst
+with silliness and extravagance, or with indecency and impiety.</p>
+
+<p>The essay from the <i>Weekly Register</i> is one of a large number of
+little histories of wit, which appear through the age of Dryden and
+Pope and which attempt to relate developments in wit to
+<ins class="correction"
+Title="Transcriber's note: original reads 'chages'">
+changes</ins> in fashion, religion, polities, social manners, and taste. These are
+rudimentary but important expressions of the idea that literature is
+conditioned by changing circumstances and social customs in the lives
+of the people from whom it springs.</p>
+
+<p>
+The <i>Essay on Wit</i>, 1748, is reprinted here, by
+<ins class="correction"
+Title="Transcriber's note: original reads 'premission'">
+permission</ins>, from a copy in the library of the University of Illinois. Flecknoe's
+<i>Characters</i> are reprinted from a copy of <i>Sixty Nine Enigmatical</i>
+<ins class="correction"
+Title="Transcriber's note: original reads 'Character'">
+<i>Characters</i></ins> owned by the library of the University of Michigan. The
+essays of Joseph Warton is the <i>Adventurer</i>, and the typescript copy
+of the essay</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p>&quot;Of Wit&quot; from the <i>Weekly Register</i> (as reprinted in the
+ <i>Gentleman's Magazine</i>) are also taken from copies belonging
+ to the University of Michigan.</p></div>
+
+<p>
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Edward Niles Hooker</span><br>
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">University of California, Los Angeles</span><br>
+</p>
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+
+
+
+
+<hr style="width:100 %;">
+<h2><a name="AN_ESSAY_ON_WIT" id="AN_ESSAY_ON_WIT"></a><b> AN ESSAY ON WIT. </b></h2>
+<hr style="width:100 %;">
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+
+<center>
+<img alt="Title page of An Essay On Wit" src="images/image01.gif" width="393" height="619"></center>
+<br>
+<br>
+<center>AN ESSAY ON WIT.</center>
+
+<p>A Gentleman who had some Knowledge in the human Heart, was consulted
+about a Tragedy which was going to be acted: He answer'd that there
+was so much Wit in the Piece that he doubted of its Success.&mdash;At
+hearing such a Judgment, a Man will immediately cry out, What! is Wit
+then a Fault, at a Time when every Body aims at having it, when nobody
+writes but to shew he has it; when the Publick applauds even false
+Thoughts, provided they are shining! Yes, 'twill doubtless be
+applauded the first Day, and grow <ins class="correction"
+Title="Transcriber's note: original reads 'tiresom'">
+truth</ins>tiresome the next.</p>
+
+<p>That which they call Wit, is sometimes a new Simile, sometimes a fine
+Allusion: Here 'tis the Abuse of a Word which presents itself in one
+Sense, and is understood in another; there a delicate Relation between
+two uncommon Ideas: 'Tis an extraordinary Metaphor; 'tis something
+which in an Object does not at first present itself, but nevertheless
+is in it; 'tis the Art, to unite two Things which were far from one
+another; to separate two which seem to be joined, or to set them in
+Opposition; 'tis the Art, of expressing but half the Thought and
+leaving the other to be found out. In short, I'd tell all the
+different Ways of shewing Wit, if I knew of any more.</p>
+
+<p>But all these Brightnesses (and I speak not of the false ones) agree
+not, or very seldom agree with a serious Work, which ought to be
+interesting. The Reason of it is, that 'tis then the Author that
+appears, and the Publick will see no body but the Hero. Moreover the
+Hero is always either in a Passion, or in Danger. Danger, and the
+Passions seek not Expressions of Wit. <i>Priam</i> and <i>Hecuba</i> don't make
+Epigrams, when their Children's Throats are cut and <i>Troy</i> in
+Flames:&mdash;<i>Dido</i> does not sigh in Madrigals, when she flies to the Pile
+upon which she's going to sacrifice herself:&mdash;<i>Demosthenes</i> has no
+Prettinesses, when he animates the <i>Athenians</i> to War; if he had, he'd
+be a Rhetorician indeed, instead of which he's a Statesman.</p>
+
+<p>If <i>Pyrrhus</i> was always to express himself in this Stile:</p>
+
+<p>
+<span style="margin-left: 5em;"><i>'Tis true,</i></span><br>
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;"><i>My Sword has often reek'd in</i> Phrygian <i>Blood</i>,</span><br>
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;"><i>And carried Havock through your Royal Kindred:</i></span><br>
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;"><i>But you, fair Princess, amply have aveng'd</i></span><br>
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;"><i>Old</i> Priam's <i>vanquish'd House: And all the Woes,</i></span><br>
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;"><i>I brought on them, fall short of what I suffer.</i></span><br>
+</p>
+
+<p>This Character wou'd not touch at all: 'Twou'd soon be perceiv'd, that
+true Passion seldom makes Use of such Comparisons, and that there is
+very little Proportion between the real Fires which consumed <i>Troy</i>,
+and the amorous Fires of <i>Pyrrhus</i>; between the Havock he made amongst
+<i>Andromache</i>'s Kindred and the Cruelty she shews him.</p>
+
+<p><i>Chamont</i> says, in speaking of <i>Monimia</i>:</p>
+
+<p>
+&nbsp;&nbsp;<i>You took her up a little tender Flower,<br>
+&nbsp;&nbsp;Just sprouted on a Bank, which the next Frost<br>
+&nbsp;&nbsp;Had nipt; and, with a careful loving Hand,<br>
+&nbsp;&nbsp;Transplanted her into your own fair Garden,<br>
+&nbsp;&nbsp;Where the Sun always shines: There long she flourish'd,<br>
+&nbsp;&nbsp;Grew sweet to Sense, and lovely to the Eye;<br>
+&nbsp;&nbsp;Till at the last, a cruel Spoiler came,<br>
+&nbsp;&nbsp;Cropt this fair Rose, and rifled all its Sweetness,<br>
+&nbsp;&nbsp;Then cast it, like a loathsome Weed, away.</i></p>
+
+
+<p>This Thought has a prodigious Eclat: There's a great deal of Wit in
+it, and even an Air of Simplicity that imposes upon one. We all see,
+that these Verses, pronounced with the Art and Enthusiasm of a good
+Actor never fail of Applause; but I think we may also see, that the
+Tragedy of the <i>Orphan</i> wrote entirely in this Taste would never have
+lived long.</p>
+
+<p>In effect, why should <i>Chamont</i> make such a long-winded Simile almost
+in the Height of Rage for the Ruin of his Sister? Is that natural?
+Does not the Poet here quite hide his Hero to shew himself?</p>
+
+<p>This brings into my Mind the absurd Custom of finishing the Acts of
+almost all our modern Tragedies with a Simile; surely in a great
+Crisis of Affairs, in a Council, in a violent Passion of Love or
+Wrath, in a pressing Danger, Princes, Ministers, Heroes or Lovers,
+should not make Poetical Comparisons.&mdash;Even <i>Marcia</i>'s (or rather Mr.
+<i>Addison</i>'s) beautiful Simile at the End of the first Act of <i>Cato</i>,
+is scarcely to be forgiven.</p>
+
+<p>What then would a Work be, that was filled with far-fetched and
+Problematick Thoughts? How infinitely superior to all such dazling
+Ideas, are these simple and natural Words of <i>Monimia</i> to her angry
+Brother?</p>
+
+<p>
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;"><i>Look kindly on me then. I cannot bear</i></span><br>
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;"><i>Severity; it daunts, and does amaze me:</i></span><br>
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;"><i>My Heart's so tender, should you charge me rough,</i></span><br>
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;"><i>I should but weep, and answer you with sobbing.</i></span><br>
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;"><i>But use me gently, like a loving Brother,</i></span><br>
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;"><i>And search through all the Secrets of my Soul.</i></span><br>
+</p>
+
+<p>Or these of <i>Brutus</i>, when he receives the News of his Wife's Death:</p>
+
+<p>
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Brutus.&nbsp; <i>Now, as you are a</i> Roman, <i>tell me true.</i></span><br>
+<br>
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Messala. <i>Then like a</i> Roman <i>bear the Truth I tell;</i></span><br>
+<span style="margin-left: 5.5em;"><i>For certain she is dead, and by strange manner.</i></span><br>
+<br>
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Brutus.&nbsp; <i>Why farewel</i> Portia.&mdash;<i>We must die,</i> Messala.</span><br>
+<span style="margin-left: 5.5em;"><i>With meditating that she must die once,</i></span><br>
+<span style="margin-left: 5.5em;"><i>I have the Patience to endure it now.</i></span><br>
+</p>
+
+<p>Or these noble ones of <i>Titinius</i>, when he stabs himself:</p>
+
+<p>
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;"><i>By your leave Gods&mdash;this is a</i> Roman's <i>Part.</i></span><br>
+</p>
+
+<p>It is not that which is called Wit, but what is sublime and noble that
+makes true Beauty.</p>
+
+<p>I have purposely chose these Examples from good Authors, that they may
+be the more striking; and I speak not of those Points and Quibbles,
+whose Impropriety is easily perceiv'd. There is no one but laughs when
+<i>Hotspur</i> says,</p>
+
+<p>
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;"><i>Why, what a deal of candied Courtesie</i></span><br>
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;"><i>This fawning Greyhound then did proffer me!</i></span><br>
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;"><i>Look, when his infant Fortune came to Age,</i></span><br>
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;"><i>And gentle</i> Harry Percy&mdash;<i>and kind Cousin</i>&mdash;<i>The</i></span><br>
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;"><i>Devil take such Cozeners</i>.&mdash;</span><br>
+</p>
+
+<p><i>Shakespear</i> found the Stage, and all the People of his Days, infected
+with these Puerillities, and he very well knew how (though perhaps he
+never read it in <i>Epictetus</i>)</p>
+
+<center>
+<img alt="Greek: " src="images/image02.gif" width="422" height="33" ></center>
+<p>to
+attune, or harmonize his
+Mind to the Things which happen.</p>
+
+<p>I now remember one of these shining Strokes, which I have seen quoted
+in several Works of Taste, and even in the Treatise of Studies by the
+late Mr. <i>Rollin</i>. This <i>Morceau</i> is taken from the beautiful Funeral
+Oration of the great <i>Turenne</i>: The whole Piece is very fine, but it
+seems to me that the Stroke I am speaking of should not have been made
+Use of by a Bishop.&mdash;This is it:</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p>&quot;O Sovereigns! Enemies of <i>France</i>, ye live, and the Spirit
+ of Christian Charity forbids me to wish your Deaths,
+ &amp;c.&mdash;But ye live, and I mourn in this Pulpit the Death of a
+ virtuous Captain, whose Intentions were pure, &amp;c.&mdash;</p></div>
+
+<p>An Apostrophe in this Taste would have been very proper at <i>Rome</i> in
+the Civil Wars, after the Assassination of <i>Pompey</i>; or at <i>London</i>
+after the Death of <i>Charles</i> the First. But is it decent, in a Pulpit,
+to wish for the Death of the Emperor, the King of <i>Spain</i>, and the
+Electors; to put them in Balance with the General of a King's Army,
+who is their Enemy? Or ought the Intentions of a Captain, which can be
+no other than to serve his Prince, to be compared with the Politick
+Interests of the crown'd Heads against which he serves? What would be
+said of a <i>Frenchman</i>, who had wished for the Death of the King of
+<i>England</i>, because of the Loss of the Chevalier <i>Belleisle</i>, whose
+Intentions were pure?</p>
+
+<p>For what Reason has this Passage been always praised by the Criticks?
+'Tis because the Figure is in itself beautiful and pathetick, but they
+did not examine into the Congruity and Bottom of the Thought.</p>
+
+<p>I return to my Paradox&mdash;That all these shining Strokes, to which they
+give the Name of Wit, never ought to be introduced into great Works
+made to instruct or to move; I'll even say they ought not to be found
+in Odes for Musick. Musick expresses Passions, Sentiments and Images:
+but what are the Concords that can be giv'n an Epigram? <i>Dryden</i> was
+sometimes negligent, but he was always natural.</p>
+
+<p>In a Sermon of Doctor <i>South</i>, where he speaks of Man's Rectitude and
+Freedom from Sin before the Fall, are seen these Words:</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p>&quot;We were not born crooked, we learnt these Windings and
+ Turnings of the Serpent.&quot;</p></div>
+
+<p>I remember to have heard this Passage admired by several People: but
+who does not see that the Motions, <i>viz.</i> the Windings and Turnings of
+the Serpent's Body are here confounded with those of its Heart: and
+that at best, 'tis but a mere Point and Pleasantry.</p>
+
+<p>Certainly there's a great Impropriety in putting any kind of Smartness
+into Pieces of such a Nature as Dr. <i>South</i>'s; but what is still
+worse, we generally find these Smartnesses to be quite vague and
+superficial; they don't enter, but only play upon the Surface of the
+Soul.</p>
+
+<p>Had a certain polite Author been a Cotemporary of the
+Doctor's, he'd have told him that</p>
+
+<p><img alt="[Greek: ]" src="images/image05.gif" width="521" height="33"></p>
+
+<p>Humour is the only Test of Gravity; and Gravity of Humour. For a
+Subject which will not bear Raillery, is suspicious; and a Jest which
+will not bear a serious Examination, is certainly false Wit.</p>
+
+<p>These Sports of the Imagination, these Finesses, these Conceits, these
+glittering Strokes, these Gaieties, these little cut Sentences, these
+ingenious Prodigalities, which are lavished away in our Times, agree
+with none but little Works. The Front of St <i>Paul</i>'s Church is simple
+and majestick. A Cabinet may with Propriety enough contain little
+Ornaments. Have as much Wit as you will, or you can, in a Madrigal, in
+little light Verses, in the Scene of a Comedy, which is neither
+passionate or simple, in a Compliment, in a little Story, in a Letter
+where you would be merry yourself to make your Friends so.</p>
+
+<p><i>Spencer</i> was very well acquainted with this Art. In his Fairy Queen,
+you find hardly any thing but what is sublime and full of Imagery: but
+in his detached Pieces, such as the Hymn in Honour of Beauty, The Fate
+of the Butterfly, <i>Britain</i>'s Ida, &amp;c. he gave a Loose to his Wit and
+Delicacy. The following Verses are Part of the Description of <i>Venus</i>
+asleep, in the last mention'd Poem:</p>
+
+<p><i>
+&nbsp;&nbsp;Her full large Eyes, in jetty-black array'd,<br>
+&nbsp;&nbsp;Proud Beauty not confin'd to red and white,<br>
+&nbsp;&nbsp;But oft herself in black more rich display'd;<br>
+&nbsp;&nbsp;Both Contraries did yet themselves unite,<br>
+&nbsp;&nbsp;To make one Beauty in different Delight:</i><br>
+&nbsp;&nbsp;<i>A thousand Loves, sate playing in each Eye,<br>
+&nbsp;&nbsp;And smiling Mirth kissing fair Courtesy,<br>
+&nbsp;&nbsp;By sweet Persuasion won a bloodless Victory.<br>
+<br>
+&nbsp;&nbsp;Her Lips most happy each in other's Kisses,<br>
+&nbsp;&nbsp;From their so wish'd Imbracements seldom parted,<br>
+&nbsp;&nbsp;Yet seem'd to blush at such their wanton Blisses;<br>
+&nbsp;&nbsp;But when sweet Words their joining Sweets disparted,<br>
+&nbsp;&nbsp;To the Ear a dainty Musick they imparted;<br>
+&nbsp;&nbsp;Upon them fitly sate delightful Smiling,<br>
+&nbsp;&nbsp;A thousand Souls with pleasing Stealth beguiling:<br>
+&nbsp;&nbsp;Ah that such shews of Joys shou'd be all Joys exiling!<br>
+<br>
+&nbsp;&nbsp;Lower two Breasts stand all their Beauties bearing,<br>
+&nbsp;&nbsp;Two Breasts as smooth and soft;&mdash;but oh alas!<br>
+&nbsp;&nbsp;Their smoothest Softness far exceeds comparing:<br>
+&nbsp;&nbsp;More smooth and soft&mdash;but naught that ever was,<br>
+&nbsp;&nbsp;Where they are first, deserves the second Place:<br>
+&nbsp;&nbsp;Yet each as soft, and each as smooth as other;<br>
+&nbsp;&nbsp;But when thou first try'st one, and then the other,<br>
+&nbsp;&nbsp;Each softer seems than each, and each than each seems smoother.</i>
+</p>
+
+<p>These Lines (pretty as they are) would be unsufferable in a large and
+serious Work, nay, there are some People who tax them with being too
+extravagant even for the Poem where they stand; and in truth, their
+warmest Admirer can say no more than this:</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p><i>Nequeo Monstrare, &amp; Sentio tantum.</i></p></div>
+
+<p>So far am I from reproaching <i>Waller</i> with putting too much Wit in his
+Poems; that on the contrary, I have found too little, though he
+continually aims at it. They say that Dancing Masters never make a
+handsome Bow, because they take too much Pains. I think <i>Waller</i> is
+often in this Case; his best Verses are studied; one finds he quite
+tires himself to find that which presents itself so naturally to
+<i>Rochester</i>, <i>Congreve</i>, and to so many more, who with all the Ease in
+the World, write these Bagatelles better than <i>Waller</i> did with
+Labour.</p>
+
+<p>I know it signifies very little to the Affairs of the World, whether
+<i>Waller</i> was or was not a great Genius; whether he only made a few
+pretty Things, or that all his Verses may stand for Models. But we who
+love the Arts, carry an attentive Eye on that which to the rest of the
+World is a Matter of mere Indifference. Good Taste is for us in
+Literature, what it is for Women in Dress; and provided we don't make
+our Opinions an Affair of Party, I think we may boldly say, that there
+are few excellent Things in <i>Waller</i>, and that <i>Cowley</i> might be
+easily reduced to a few Pages.</p>
+
+<p>It is not that we would deprive them of their Reputation; 'tis only to
+inquire strictly what brought them that Reputation which is so much
+respected; and what are the true Beauties which made their Faults be
+overlooked. It must be known what ought to be followed in their Works,
+and what avoided; this is the true Fruit of a deep Study in the Belles
+Lettres; it is this that <i>Horace</i> did, when he examined <i>Lucilius</i>
+critically. <i>Horace</i> got Enemies by it, but he enlightened his Enemies
+themselves.</p>
+
+<p>This Desire of shining, and to say in a new Manner what others have
+said before, is the Foundation of new Expressions, as well as of
+far-fetched Thoughts.</p>
+
+<p>He that cannot shine by a Thought will distinguish himself by a Word.
+This is their Reason for substituting Placid for Peaceful, Joyous for
+Joyful, Meandring for Winding; and a hundred more Affectations of the
+same kind. If they were to go on at this Rate, the Language of
+<i>Shakespear, Milton, Dryden, Addison</i> and <i>Pope</i>, would soon become
+quite superannuated. And why avoid an Expression in use, to introduce
+one which says precisely the same Thing? A new Word is never
+pardonable, but when it is absolutely necessary, intelligible and
+sonorous; they are forc'd to make them in Physics: A new Discovery, or
+a new Machine demands a new Word. But do they make new Discoveries in
+the human Heart? Is there any other Greatness than that of
+<i>Shakespear</i> and <i>Milton</i>? Are there any other Passions than those
+that have been handled by <i>Otway</i> and <i>Dryden</i>? Is there any other
+Evangelic Moral than that of Dr. <i>Tillotson</i>?</p>
+
+<p>Those who accuse the <i>English</i> Language of not being copious enough,
+do, in Truth, find a Sterility, but 'tis in themselves.</p>
+
+<p><i>Rem Verba Sequuntur</i>.</p>
+
+<p>When one is thoroughly struck with an Idea, when a Man of Sense,
+fill'd with Warmth, is in full Possession of his Thought, it comes
+from him all ornamented with suitable Expressions, as <i>Minerva</i> sprang
+out, compleatly arm'd, from the Head of <i>Jupiter</i>.</p>
+
+<p>In short, the Conclusion of all this is, that you must never seek for
+far-fetch'd Thoughts, Conceits or Expressions; and that the Art of all
+great Works, is to reason well, without making many Arguments; to
+paint accurately, without Painting all; to move, without always
+exciting the Passions.</p>
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+<hr style="width: 100%;">
+
+<h4><a name="ZANYS" id="ZANYS">
+<ins class="correction"
+Title="Transcriber's note: original reads 'CAARACTER'">
+CHARACTER.</ins></a></h4>
+<h2><i>Of one that</i> Zanys <i>the good Companion</i>.</h2>
+<hr style="width: 100%;">
+<center><img alt="" src="images/image03.gif" width="587" height="916"></center>
+<br>
+<p>He is a wit of an under Region, grosly imitating on the lower rope,
+what t'other does neatly on the higher; and is only for the laughter
+of the vulgar; whilst your wiser and better sort can scarcely smile at
+him: He talks nothing but kennel-raked fluff, and his discourse is
+rather like fruit cane up rotten from the ground, than freshly
+gathered from the Tree. He is so far from a courtly wit, as his
+breeding seems only to have been i' th' Suburbs; or at best, he seems
+only graduated good company in a Tavern (the Bedlam of wits) where men
+are mad rather than merry; here one breaking a jest on the Drawer, or
+a Candlestick; there another repeating the old end of a Play, or some
+bawdy song; this speaking bilk, that nonsense, whilst all with loud
+houting and laughter confound the <i>Fidlers</i> noise, who may well be
+call'd a noise indeed, for no <i>Musick</i> can be heard for them; so
+whilst he utters nothing but old stories, long since laught thridbare,
+or some stale jest broken twenty times before: His <i>mirth</i> compared
+with theirs, new and at first hand, is just like <i>Brokers</i> ware in
+comparison with <i>Mercers</i>, or <i>Long-lane</i> compar'd unto <i>Cheap-side</i>:
+his wit being rather the <i>Hogs-heads</i> than his own, favouring more of
+<i>Heidelberg</i> than of <i>Hellicon</i>, and he rather a drunken than a good
+companion.</p>
+
+<br>
+<br>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 100%;">
+<h4><a name="Of_a_bold_abusive_Wit" id="Of_a_bold_abusive_Wit">CHARACTER.</a></h4>
+
+<h2><i>Of a bold abusive Wit.</i></h2>
+<hr style="width: 100%;">
+
+<p>He talks madly, <i>dash, dash,</i> without any fear at all, and never cares
+how he <i>bespatters</i> others, or defiles himself; nor ceases he till he
+has quite run himself out of breath; when no wonder, if to fools he
+seems to get the start of those who wisely pick out their way, and are
+as fearful of abusing others as themselves: He has the <i>Buffoons</i>
+priviledge, of saying or doing anything without exceptions, and he
+will call a jealous man <i>Cuckold</i>, a childe of doubtful birth
+<i>Bastard</i>, and a <i>Lady</i> of suspected honor a <i>Whore</i>, and they but
+laugh at it; and all <i>Scholars</i> are <i>Pedants</i>; and <i>Physicians</i>,
+<i>Quacks</i> with him, when to be angry at it is the avowing it. Then in
+<i>Ladies</i> chambers, he will tumble beds, and towse your <i>Ladies</i> dress
+up unto the height, to the hazard of a <i>Bed-staff</i> thrown at his head,
+or rap o're the fingers with a <i>Busk</i>, and that is all; only is this
+he is far worse than the <i>Buffoon</i>, since they study to <i>delight</i>,
+this only to <i>offend</i>; they to make <i>merry</i>, but this onely to make
+you <i>mad</i>, whence wo be t' ye of he discovers and <i>imperfection</i> or
+<i>fault</i> in you, for he never findes a <i>breach</i> but he makes a <i>hole</i>
+of it; nor a <i>hole</i> but he <i>tugs</i> at it so long till he tear it quite;
+giving you for reason of his <i>incivility</i>, because (forsooth) <i>it
+troubled you</i>, which would make any civil man cease troubling you. So
+he wears his <i>wit</i> as <i>Bravo's</i> do their swords, to mischief and
+offend others, not as <i>Gentlemen</i> to defend themselves: and tis
+<i>crime</i> in him, what is <i>ornament</i> in others; he being onely a <i>wit</i>
+at that, at which a good <i>wit</i> is a <i>fool</i>. Especially he triumphs
+over your modest men; and when he meets with a <i>simple body</i>, passes
+for a <i>wit</i>, but a <i>wit</i> indeed makes a <i>simplician</i> of him; so goes
+he persecuting others till some one or other at last (as <i>chollerick</i>
+as he is <i>abusive) cudgel</i> him for his pains; when he goes <i>grumbling</i>
+away in a mighty <i>choler</i>, saying, <i>They understand not jest</i>, when
+indeed tis rather <i>he</i>.</p>
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+
+<hr style="width: 100%;">
+<h2><a name="The_adventurer" id="The_adventurer">THE ADVENTURER.</a></h2>
+<hr style="width: 100%;">
+<center>
+<img alt="" src="images/image04.gif" width="582" height="913">
+</center>
+
+<br>
+
+
+
+<br>
+<br>
+<h4><i>VOLUME THE FOURTH.</i></h4>
+
+
+<h4>No. CXXVII. Tuesday, January 22. 1754.</h4>
+
+<p>
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;"><i>&mdash;Veteres ita miratur, laudatque!&mdash;</i></span><br>
+<span style="margin-left: 22em;">HOR.</span><br>
+<br>
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The wits of old he praises and admires.</span><br>
+</p>
+
+
+<p>&quot;It is very remarkable,&quot; says Addison, &quot;that notwithstanding we fall
+short at present of the ancients in poetry, painting, oratory,
+history, architecture, and all the noble arts and sciences which
+depend more upon genius than experience; we exceed them as much in
+doggerel, humour, burlesque, and all the trivial arts of ridicule.&quot; As
+this fine observation stands at present only in the form of a general
+assertion, it deserves, I think, to be examined by a deduction of
+particulars, and confirmed by an allegation of examples, which may
+furnish an agreeable entertainment to those who have ability and
+inclination to remark the revolutions of human wit.</p>
+
+<p>That Tasso, Ariosto, and Camoens, the three most celebrated of modern
+Epic Poets, are infinitely excelled in propriety of design, of
+sentiment, and style, by Horace and Virgil, it would be serious
+trifling to attempt to prove: but Milton, perhaps, will not so easily
+resign his claim to equality, if not to superiority. Let it, however,
+be remembered, that if Milton be enabled to dispute the prize with the
+great champions of antiquity, it is entirely owing to the sublime
+conceptions he has copied from the book of God. These, therefore, must
+be taken away before we begin to make a just estimate of his genius;
+and from what remains, it cannot, I presume, be said with candour and
+impartiality, that he has excelled Homer in the sublimity and variety
+of his thoughts, or the strength and majesty of his diction.</p>
+
+<p>Shakespear, Corneille, and Racine, are the only modern writers of
+Tragedy, that we can venture to oppose to Eschylus, Sophocles, and
+Euripides. The first is an author so uncommon and eccentric, that we
+can scarcely try him by dramatic rules. In strokes of nature and
+character, he yields not to the Greeks: in all other circumstances
+that constitute the excellence of the drama, he is vastly inferior. Of
+the three moderns, the most faultless is the tender and exact Racine:
+but he was ever ready to acknowledge, that his capital beauties were
+borrowed from his favourite Euripides; which, indeed, cannot escape
+the observation of those who read with attention his Ph&aelig;dra and
+Andromache. The pompous and truly Roman sentiments of Corneille are
+chiefly drawn from Luoan and Tacitus; the former of whom, by a strange
+perversion of taste, he is known to have preferred to Virgil. His
+diction is not so pure and mellifluous, his characters not so various
+and just, nor his plots so regular, so interesting, and simple, as
+those of his pathetic rival. It is by this simplicity of fable alone,
+when every single act, and scene, and speech, and sentiment, and word,
+concur to accelerate the intended event, that the Greek tragedies kept
+the attention of the audience immoveably fixed upon one principal
+object, which must be necessarily lessened, and the ends of the drama
+defeated, by the mazes and intricacies of modern plots.</p>
+
+<p>The assertion of Addison with respect to the first particular,
+regarding the higher kinds of poetry, will remain unquestionably true,
+till nature in some distant age, for in the present, enervated with
+luxury, she seems incapable of such an effort, shall produce some
+transcendent genius, of power to eclipse the Iliad and the Edipus.</p>
+
+<p>The superiority of the ancient artists in Painting, is not perhaps so
+clearly manifest. They were ignorant, it will be said, of light, of
+shade, and perspective; and they had not the use of oil colours, which
+are happily calculated to blend and unite without harshness and
+discordance, to give a boldness and relief to the figures, and to form
+those middle Teints which render every well-wrought piece a closer
+resemblance of nature. Judges of the truest taste do, however, place
+the merit of colouring far below that of justness of design, and force
+of expression. In these two highest and most important excellencies,
+the ancient painters were eminently skilled, if we trust the
+testimonies of Pliny, Quintilian, and Lucian; and to credit them we
+are obliged, if we would form to ourselves any idea of these artists
+at all; for there is not one Grecian picture remaining; and the
+Romans, some few of whose works have descended to this age, could
+never boast of a Parrhasius or Apelles, a Zeuxis, Timanthes, or
+Protogenes, of whose performances the two accomplished critics above
+mentioned, speaks in terms of rapture and admiration. The statues that
+have escaped the ravages of time, as the Hercules and Laocoon for
+instance, are still a stronger
+<ins class="correction"
+Title="Transcriber's note: original reads 'demonstation'">
+demonstration</ins>
+ of the power
+of the Grecian artists in expressing the passions; for what was
+executed in marble, we have presumptive evidence to think, might also
+have been executed in colours. Carlo Marat, the last valuable painter
+of Italy, after copying the head of the Venus in the Medicean
+collection three hundred times, generously confessed, that he could
+not arrive at half the grace and perfection of his model. But to speak
+my opinion freely on a very disputable point, I must own, that if the
+moderns approach the ancients in any of the arts here in question,
+they approach them nearest in The Art of Painting, The human mind can
+with difficulty conceive any thing more exalted, than &quot;The Last
+Judgment&quot; of Michael Angelo, and &quot;The Transfiguration&quot; of Raphael.
+What can be more animated than Raphael's &quot;Paul preaching at Athens?&quot;
+What more tender and delicate than Mary holding the child Jesus, in
+his famous &quot;Holy Family?&quot; What more graceful than &quot;The Aurora&quot; of
+Guido? What more deeply moving than &quot;The Massacre of the Innocents&quot; by
+Le Brun?</p>
+
+<p>But no modern Orator can dare to enter the lists with Demosthenes and
+Tully. We have discourses, indeed, that may be admired, for their
+perspicuity, purity, and elegance; but can produce none that abound in
+a sublime which whirls away the auditor like a mighty torrent, and
+pierces the inmost recesses of his heart like a flash of lightning;
+which irresistibly and instantaneously convinces, without leaving, him
+leisure to weigh the motives of conviction. The sermons of Bourdaloue,
+the funeral orations of Bossuet, particularly that on the death of
+Henrietta, and the pleadings of Pelisson, for his disgraced patron
+Fouquet, are the only pieces of eloquence I can recollect, that bear
+any resemblance to the Greek or Roman orator; for in England we have
+been particularly unfortunate in our attempts to be eloquent, whether
+in parliament, in the pulpit, or at the bar. If it be urged, that the
+nature of modern politics and laws excludes the pathetic and the
+sublime, and confines the speaker to a cold argumentative method, and
+a dull detail of proof and dry matters of fact; yet, surely, the
+Religion of the moderns abounds in topics so incomparably noble and
+exalted as might kindle the flames of genuine oratory in the most
+frigid and barren genius much more might this success be reasonably
+expected from such geniuses as Britain can enumerate; yet no piece of
+this sort, worthy applause or notice, has ever yet appeared.</p>
+
+<p>The few, even among professed scholars, that are able to read the
+ancient Historians in their inimitable, originals, are startled at the
+paradox, of Bolingbroke who boldly prefers Guicciardini to Thucydides;
+that is, the most verbose and tedious to the most comprehensive and
+concise of writers, and a collector of facts to one who was himself an
+eye-witness and a principal actor in the important story he relates.
+And, indeed, it may be well presumed, that the ancient histories
+exceed the modern from this single consideration, that the latter are
+commonly compiled by recluse scholars, unpractised in business, war,
+and politics; whilst the former are many of them written by ministers,
+commanders, and princes themselves. We have, indeed, a few flimsy
+memoirs, particularly in a neighbouring nation, written by persons
+deeply interested in the transactions they describe; but these I
+imagine will not be compared to &quot;The retreat of the ten thousand&quot;
+which Xenophon himself conducted and related, nor to &quot;the Galic war&quot;
+of C&aelig;sar, nor &quot;The precious fragments&quot; of Polybius, which our modern
+generals and ministers would not have discredited by diligently
+perusing, and making them the models of their conduct as as well as of
+their style. Are the reflections of Machiavel so subtle and refined as
+those of Tacitus? Are the portraits of Thuanus so strong and
+expressive as those of Sallust and Plutarch? Are the narrations of
+Davila so lively and animated, or do his sentiments breathe such a
+love of liberty and virtue, as those of Livy and Herodotus?</p>
+
+<p>The supreme excellence of the ancient Architecture the last particular
+to be touched, I shall not enlarge upon, because it has never once
+been called in question, and because it is abundantly testified by the
+awful ruins of amphitheatres, aqueducts, arches, and columns, that are
+the daily objects of veneration, though not of imitation. This art, it
+is observable; has never been improved in later ages in one single
+instance; but every just and legitimate edifice is still formed
+according to the five old established orders, to which human wit has
+never been able to add a sixth of equal symmetry and strength.</p>
+
+<p>Such, therefore, are the triumphs of the Ancients, especially the
+Greeks, over the Moderns. They may, perhaps, be not unjustly ascribed
+to a genial climate, that gave such a happy temperament of body as was
+most proper to produce fine sensations; to a language most harmonious,
+copious, and forcible; to the public encouragements and honours
+bestowed on the cultivators of literature; to the emulation excited
+among the generous youth, by exhibitions of their performances at the
+solemn games; to an inattention to the arts of lucre and commerce,
+which engross and debase the minds of the moderns; and above all, to
+an exemption from the necessity of overloading their natural faculties
+with learning and languages, with which we in these later times are
+obliged to qualify ourselves, for writers, if we expect to be read.</p>
+
+<p>It is said by Voltaire, with his usual liveliness, &quot;We shall never
+again behold the time, when a Duke de la Rochefoucault might go from
+the conversation of a Pascal or Arnauld, to the theatre of Corneille.&quot;
+This reflection may be more justly applied to the ancients, and it may
+with much greater truth be said; &quot;The age will never again return,
+when a Pericles, after walking with Plato in a portico, built by
+Phidias, and painted by Apelles, might repair to hear a pleading of
+Demosthenes, or a tragedy of Sophocles.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>I shall next examine the other part of Addison's assertion, that the
+moderns excell the ancients in all the arts of Ridicule, and assign
+the reasons of this supposed excellence.</p>
+<br>
+<br>
+
+<h4>No. CXXXIII. Tuesday, February 12. 1754.</h4>
+<br>
+<p><i>
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">At nostri proavi Plautinos et numeros et</span><br>
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Laudeveres sales; nimium patienter utrumque,</span><br>
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Ne dicam stule, mirati; si modo ego et vos</span><br>
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Scimus inurbanum lepido seponere dicto</span></i>.<br>
+<span style="margin-left: 23.5em;">HOR.</span><br>
+<br>
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">&quot;And yet our fires with joy could Plautus hear;</span><br>
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Gay were his jests, his numbers charm'd their ear.&quot;</span><br>
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Let me not say too lavishly they prais'd;</span><br>
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">But sure their judgment was full cheaply pleas'd,</span><br>
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">If you or I with taste are haply blest,</span><br>
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">To know a clownish from a courtly jest.</span><br>
+<span style="margin-left: 21em;">FRANCIS.</span><br>
+</p>
+
+
+<p>The fondness I have so frequently manifested for the ancients, has not
+so far blinded my judgment, as to render me unable to discern, or
+unwilling to acknowledge, the superiority of the moderns, in pieces of
+Humour and Ridicule. I shall, therefore, confirm the general assertion
+of Addison, part of which hath already been examined.</p>
+
+<p>Comedy, Satire, and Burlesque, being the three chief branches of
+ridicule, it is necessary for us to compare together the most admired
+performances of the ancients and moderns, in these three kinds of
+writing, to qualify us justly to censure or commend, as the beauties
+or blemishes of each party may deserve.</p>
+
+<p>As Aristophanes wrote to please the multitude, at a time when the
+licentiousness of the Athenians was boundless, his pleasantries are
+coarse and impolite, his characters extravagantly forced, and
+distorted with unnatural deformity, like the monstrous caricaturas of
+Callot. He is full of the grossest obscenity, indecency, and
+inurbanity; and as the populace always delight to hear their superiors
+abused and misrepresented, he scatters the rankest calumnies on the
+wisest and worthiest personages of his country. His style is unequal,
+occasioned by a frequent introduction of parodies on Sophocles and
+Euripides. It is, however, certain, that he abounds in artful
+allusions to the state of Athens at the time when he wrote; and,
+perhaps, he is more valuable, considered as a political satirist than
+a writer of comedy.</p>
+
+<p>Plautus has adulterated a rich vein of genuine wit and humour, with a
+mixture of the basest buffoonry. No writer seems to have been born
+with a more forcible or more fertile genius for comedy. He has drawn
+some characters with incomparable spirit: we are indebted to him for
+the first good miser, and for that worn-out character among the
+Romans, a boastful Thraso. But his love degenerates into lewdness; and
+his jests are insupportably low and illiberal, and fit only for &quot;the
+dregs of Romulus&quot; to use and to hear; he has furnished examples of
+every species of true and false wit, even down to a quibble and a pun.
+Plautus lived in an age when the Romans were but just emerging into
+politeness; and I cannot forbear thinking, that if he had been
+reserved for the age of Augustus, he would have produced more perfect
+plays than even the elegant disciple of Menander.</p>
+
+<p>Delicacy, sweetness, and correctness, are the characteristics of
+Terence. His polite images are all represented in the most clear and
+perspicuous expression; but his characters are too general and
+uniform, nor are they marked with those discriminating peculiarities
+that distinguish one man from another; there is a tedious and
+disgusting sameness of incidents in his plots, which, as hath been
+observed in a former paper, are too complicated and intricate. It may
+be added, that he superabounds in soliloquies; and that nothing can be
+more inartificial or improper, than the manner in which he hath
+introduced them.</p>
+
+<p>To these three celebrated ancients, I venture to oppose singly the
+matchless Moliere, as the most consummate master of comedy that former
+or latter ages have produced. He was not content with painting obvious
+and common characters, but set himself closely to examine the
+numberless varieties of human nature: he soon discovered every
+difference, however minute; and by a proper management could make it
+striking: his portraits, therefore, though they
+<ins class="correction"
+Title="Transcriber's note: original reads 'appaer'">
+appear</ins> to be
+new, are yet discovered to be just. The Tartuffe and the Misantrope
+are the most singular, and yet, perhaps, the most proper and perfect
+characters that comedy can represent; and his Miser excels that of any
+other nation. He seems to have hit upon the true nature of comedy;
+which is, to exhibit one singular, and unfamiliar character, by such a
+series of incidents as may best contribute to shew its singularities.
+All the circumstances in the Misantrope tend to manifest the peevish
+and captious disgust of the hero; all the circumstances in the
+Tartuffe are calculated to shew the treachery of an accomplished
+hypocrite. I am sorry that no English writer of comedy can be produced
+as a rival to Moliere: although it must be confessed, that Falstaff
+and Morose are two admirable characters, excellently, supported and
+displayed; for Shakespear has contrived all the incidents to
+illustrate the gluttony, lewdness, cowardice, and boastfulness of the
+fat old knight: and Jonson, has, with equal art, displayed the oddity
+of a wimsical humourist, who could endure no kind of noise.</p>
+
+<p>Will it be deemed a paradox, to assert, that Congreve's dramatic
+persons have no striking and natural characteristic? His Fondlewife
+and Foresight are but faint portraits of common characters, and Ben is
+a forced and unnatural caricatura. His plays appear not to be
+legitimate comedies, but strings of repartees and sallies of wit, the
+most poignant and polite indeed, but unnatural and ill placed. The
+trite and trivial character of a fop, hath strangely engrossed the
+English stage, and given an insipid similiarity to our best comic
+pieces: originals can never be wanting in such a kingdom as this,
+where each man follows his natural inclinations and propensities, if
+our writers would really contemplate nature, and endeavour to open
+those mines of humour which have been so long and so unaccountably
+neglected.</p>
+
+<p>If we proceed to consider the Satirists of antiquity, I shall not
+scruple to prefer Boileau and Pope to Horace and Juvenal; the arrows
+of whose ridicule are more sharp, in proportion as they are more
+polished. That reformers should abound in obscenities, as is the case
+of the two Roman poets, is surely an impropriety of the most
+extraordinary kind; the courtly Horace also sometimes sinks into mean
+and farcical abuse, as in the first lines of the seventh satire of the
+first book; but Boileau and Pope have given to their Satire the Cestus
+of Venus: their ridicule is concealed and oblique; that of the Romans
+direct and open. The tenth satire of Bioleau on women is more bitter,
+and more decent and elegant, than the sixth of Juvenal on the same
+subject; and Pope's epistle to Mrs. Blount far excels them both, in
+the artfulness and delicacy with which it touches female foibles. I
+may add, that the imitations of Horace by Pope, and of Juvenal by
+Johnson, are preferable to their originals in the appositeness of
+their examples, and in the poignancy of their ridicule. Above all, the
+Lutrin, the Rape of the Lock, the Dispensary and the Dunciad, cannot
+be parallelled by any works that the wittiest of the ancients can
+boast of: for, by assuming the form of the epopea, they have acquired
+a dignity and gracefulness, which all satires delivered merely in the
+poet's own person must want, and with which the satirists of antiquity
+were wholly unacquainted; for the Batrachomuomachia of Homer cannot be
+considered as the model of these admirable pieces.</p>
+
+<p>Lucian is the greatest master of Burlesque among the ancients: but the
+travels of Gulliver, though indeed evidently copied from his true
+history, do as evidently excel it. Lucian sets out with informing his
+readers, that he is in jest, and intends to ridicule some of the
+incredible stories in Ctesias and Herodotus: this introduction surely
+enfeebles his satire, and defeats his purpose. The true history
+consists only of the most wild, monstrous, and miraculous persons and
+accidents: Gulliver has a concealed meaning, and his dwarfs and giants
+convey tacitly some moral or political instruction. The Charon, or the
+prospect, (&#949;&#960;&#953;&#963;&#967;&#959;&#960;&#959;&#965;&#957;&#964;&#949;&#962;) one of the dialogues of Lucian, has
+likewise given occasion to that agreeable French Satire, entitled,
+&quot;<i>Le Diable Boiteux</i>,&quot; or &quot;The Lame Devil;&quot; which has highly improved
+on its original by a greater variety of characters and descriptions,
+lively remarks, and interesting adventures. So if a parallel be drawn
+between Lucian and Cervantes, the ancient will still appear to
+disadvantage: the burlesque of Lucian principally consists in making
+his gods and philosophers speak and act like the meanest of the
+people; that of Cervantes arises from the solemn and important air
+with which the most idle and ridiculous actions are related; and is,
+therefore, much more striking and forcible. In a word, Don Quixote,
+and its copy Hudibras, the Splendid Shilling, the Adventures of Gil
+Blas, the Tale of a Tub, and the Rehearsal, are pieces of humour which
+antiquity cannot equal, much less excel.</p>
+
+<p>Theophrastus must yield to La Bruyere for his intimate knowledge of
+human nature; and the Athenians never produced a writer whose humour
+was so exquisite as that of Addison, or who delineated and supported a
+character with so much nature and true pleasantry, as that of Sir
+Roger de Coverly. It ought, indeed, to be remembered, that every
+species of wit written in distant times and in dead languages, appears
+with many disadvantages to present readers, from their ignorance of
+the manners and customs alluded to and exposed; but the grosness, the
+rudeness, and indelicacy of the ancients, will, notwithstanding,
+sufficiently appear, even from the sentiments of such critics as
+Cicero and Quintilian, who mention corporal defects and deformities as
+proper objects of raillery.</p>
+
+<p>If it be now asked to what can we ascribe this superiority of the
+moderns in all the species of ridicule? I answer, to the improved
+state of conversation. The great geniuses of Greece and Rome were
+formed during the times of a republican government: and though it be
+certain, as Longinus asserts, that democracies are the nurseries of
+true sublimity; yet monarchies and courts are more productive of
+politeness. The arts of civility, and the decencies of conversation,
+as they unite men more closely, and bring them more frequently
+together, multiply opportunities of observing those incongruities and
+absurdities of behaviour, on which ridicule is founded. The ancients
+had more liberty and seriousness; the moderns have more luxury and
+laughter.</p>
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+
+
+<hr style="width:100 %;">
+<h2><a name="OF_WIT" id="OF_WIT">OF WIT</a></h2>
+<hr style="width:100 %;">
+<center><img alt="Greek: " src="images/image06.gif" width="587" height="916"></center>
+<br>
+<p><i>WIT</i> in K. <i>Charles</i> IId's Reign, seem'd to be the Fashion of the
+Times; in the next Reign it gave way to Politicks and Religion; while
+K. <i>William</i> was on the Throne, it reviv'd under the Protection of
+Lord <i>Somers</i> and some other Nobleman, and then those Geniuses
+received that Tincture of Elegance and Politeness which afterwards
+made such a Figure in the <i>Tatlers</i>, <i>Spectators</i>, &amp;c. thro' the
+greatest Part of the Reign of Q. <i>Anne</i>: But since it has broke out
+only by Fits and Starts. Few People of Distinction trouble themselves
+about the Name of Wit, fewer understand it, and hardly any have
+honoured it with their Example. In the next Class of People it seems
+best known, most admired, and most frequently practiced; but their
+Stations in Life are not eminent enough to dazzle us into Imitation.
+Wit is a Start of Imagination in the Speaker, that strikes the
+Imagination of the Hearer with an Idea of Beauty, common to both; and
+the immediate Result of the Comparison is the Flash of Joy that
+attends it; it stands in the same Regard to Sense, or Wisdom, as
+Lightning to the Sun, suddenly kindled and as suddenly gone; it as
+often arises from the Defect of the Mind, as from its Strength and
+Capacity. This is evident in those who are <i>Wits</i> only, without being
+grave or wise, Just, solid, and lasting Wit is the Result of fine
+Imagination, finished Study, and a happy Temper of Body. As no one
+pleases more than the Man of Wit, none is more liable to offend;
+therefore he shou'd have a Fancy quick to conceive, Knowledge, good
+Humour, and Discretion to direct the whole. Wit often leads a Man into
+Misfortunes, that his Prudence wou'd have avoided; as it is the Means
+of raising a Reputation, so it sometimes destroys it. He who affects
+to be always witty, renders himself cheap, and, perhaps, ridiculous.
+The great Use and Advantage of Wit is to render the Owner agreeable,
+by making him instrumental to the Happiness of others. When such a
+Person appears among his Friends, an Air of Pleasure and Satisfaction
+diffuses itself over every Face. <i>Wit</i>, so used, is an Instrument of
+the sweetest Musick in the Hands of an Artist, commanding, soothing,
+and modulating the Passions into Harmony and Peace. Neither is this
+the only Use of it; 'tis a sharp Sword, as well as a musical
+Instrument, and ought to be drawn against Folly and Affectation. There
+is at the same time an humble Ignorance, a modest Weakness, that ought
+to be spar'd; they are unhappy already in the Consciousness of their
+own Defects, and 'tis fighting with the Lame and Sick to be severe
+upon them. The Wit that genteely glances at a Foible, is smartly
+retorted, or generously forgiven; because the Merit of the Reprover is
+as well known as the Merit of the Reproved. In such delicate
+Conversations, Mirth, temper'd with good Manners, is the only Point in
+View, and we grow gay and polite together; perhaps there's no Moment
+of our Lives so sincerely happy, certainly none so innocent. Wit is a
+Quality which some possess, and all covet; Youth affects it, Folly
+dreads it, Age despises it, and Dulness abhors it. Some Authors wou'd
+persuade us, that Wit is owing to a double Cause; one, the Desire of
+pleasing others, and one of recommending ourselves: The first is made
+a Merit in the Owners, and is therefore rang'd among the Virtues; the
+last is stiled Vanity, and therefore a Vice; tho' this is an erroneous
+Distinction, as <i>Wit</i> was never possess'd by any without both; for no
+Man endeavours to excell without being conscious of it, and that
+Consciousness will produce Vanity, let us disguise it how we please.
+Upon the whole, Vanity is inseparable from the; Heart of Man; where
+there is Excellency, it may be endur'd; where there is none, it may be
+censur'd, but never remov'd.</p>
+
+<p>(From <i>The Weekly Register</i>, July 22, 1732, No. 119, as reprinted in
+<i>The Gentleman's 'Magazine</i>, II, July, 1732, pp. 861-2.)</p>
+<hr style="width:100 %;">
+
+<div>*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 14973 ***</div>
+</body>
+</html>
+
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+This book, including all associated images, markup, improvements,
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+Project Gutenberg (https://www.gutenberg.org) public repository for
+book #14973 (https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/14973)