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Peggy Hartwell may be offended at shewing this letter, because her conduct in Mr. Hartwell's absence is a little inquired into. But I could not fink that circumstance, because your critics would have lost one of the parts which I doubt not but they have much to say upon, whether the familiar way is well hit in this style or not. As for myself, I take a very particular fatisfaction in feeing any letter that is fit only for those to read who are concerned in it, but especially on such a fubject.

If we confider the heap of an army utterly out of all profpect of rifing and preferment, as they certainly are, and such great things executed by them, it is hard to account for the motive of their gallantry. But to me, who was a cadet at the battle of Colastream in Scotland, when Monk charged at the head of the regiment, now called Coldstream from the victory of that day (I remember it as well as if it were yesterday) I stood on the left of old West, who I believe is now at Chelsea; I (fays he to me) who know very well this part of mankind, take the gallantry of private foldiers to proceed from the fame, if not from a nobler impulse than that of gentlemen and officers. They have the fame tafte of being acceptable to their friends, and go through the difficulties of that profession by the same irresisti. ble charm of fellowship, and the communication of joys and forrows, which quickens the relish of pleasure, and abates the anguish of pain. Add to this, that they have the fame regard to fame, though they do not expect so great a share as men above them hope for; but I'll engage ferjeant Hall would die ten thoufand deaths, rather than a word should be spoken at the Red-Lettice, or any part of the Butcher-Row, in prejudice to his courage or honesty. If you will have my opinion then of the serjeant's letter, I pronounce the style to be mixed, but truly epistolary; the fentiments relating to his own wound, is in the fublime; the poftscript of Pegg Hartwell, in the gay; and the whole, the picture of the bravest fort of men, that is to say, a man of great courage, and small hopes.

TATLER, Vol. II. No. 87.

AMON

HUMOUR.

MONG all kinds of writing, there is none in which authors are more apt to mifcarry than in works of humour, as there are none in which they are more ambitious to excel. It is not an imagination that teems with monsters, an head that is filled with extravagant conceptions which is capable of furnishing the world with diverfions of this nature; and yet if we look into the productions of several writers, who set up for men of humour, what wild, irregular fancies, what unnatural distortions of thought do we meet with ? If they speak nonfenfe, they believe they are talking humour; and when they have drawn together a scheme of abfurd, inconfiftent ideas, they are not able to read it over to themselves without laughing.

These poor gentlemen endeavour to gain themselves the reputation of wits and humourifts, by fuch monstrous conceits as almost qualify them for Bedlam; not confidering that humour should always lie under the check of reafon, and that it requires the direction of the nicest judgment, by fo much the more as it indulges itself in the most boundless freedoms. There is a kind of nature that is to be observed in this fort of compofitions, as well as in all other; and a certain regularity of thought which must discover the writer to be a man of sense, at the fame time that he appears altogether given up to caprices. For my part, when I read the delirious mirth of an unskilful author, I cannot be fo barbarous as to divert myself with it, but am rather apt to pity the man, than to laugh at any thing he writes.

The deceased Mr. Shadwell, who had himself a great deal of the talent which I am treating of, reprefents an empty rake, in one of his plays, as very much furprised to hear one say that breaking of windows was not humour; and I question not but feveral English readers would be so much startled to hear me affirm, that many of those raving, incoherent pieces, which are often spread among us, under old chimerical titles, are VOL. II. Q2

rather the offspring of a distempered brain, than works of humour.

It is indeed much easier to describe what is not humour, than what is; and very difficult to define it otherwise than, as Cowley has done wit, by negatives. Were I to give my own notions of it, I would deliver them after Plato s manner, in a kind of allegory, and by supposing humour to be a person, deduce to him all his qualifications, according to the following genealogy. Truth was the founder of the family, and the father of good fenfe. Good sense was the father of wit, who married a lady of a collateral line called mirth, by whom he had an issue, humour. Humour therefore being the youngest of this illustrious family, and defcended from parents of fuch different dispositions, is very various and unequal in his temper; sometimes you see him putting on grave looks and a folemn habit, sometimes airy in his behaviour and fantastic in his dress: Infomuch that at different times he appears as serious as a judge, and as jocular as a Merry Andrew. But as he has a great deal of the mother in his constitution, whatever mood he is in, be never fails to make his company laugh.

But fince there is an impoftor abroad, who takes upon him the name of this young gentleman, and would willingly pass for him in the world; to the end that well-meaning persons may not be imposed upon by cheats, I would defire my readers when they meet with this pretender, to look into his parentage, and to examine him strictly, whether or not he be remotely allied to truth, and lineally descended from good sense; if not, they may conclude him a counterfeit. They may likewife diftinguish him by a loud and exceffive laughter, in which he feldom gets his company to join with him. For as trus humour generally looks ferious, while every body laughs about him; false humour is always laughing, while every body about him looks feriI shall only add, if he has not in him a mixture of both parents, that is, if he would pass for the offspring of wit without mirth, or mirth without wit, you may conclude him to be altogether spurious, and a cheat.

ous.

The impostor, of whom I am speaking, descends originally from falshood, who was the mother of nonfense, who was brought to bed of a fon called frenzy, who married one of the daughters of folly commonly known by the name of laughter, on whom he begot that monstrous infant of which I have been here speaking. I shall set down at length the genealogical table of false humour, and, at the same time, place under it the genealogy of true humour, that the reader may at one view behold their different pedigrees and relations.

FOLSHOOD.

NONSENSE.

FRENZY.LAUGHTER.
FALSE HUMOUR.

TRUTH.

GOOD SENSE.
WIT. MIRTH.
HUMOUR.

I might extend the allegory, by mentioning several of the children of false humour, who are more in number than the sands of the sea, and might in particular enumerate the many fons and daughters which he has begot in this ifland. But as this would be a very invidious task, I shall only observe in general, that falt humour differs from the true, as a monkey does from a

man.

First of all, He is exceedingly given to little apish tricks and buffooneries.

Secondly, He so much delights in mimickry, that it is all one to him whether he exposes by it vice and folly, luxury and avarice; or, on the contrary, virtue and wisdom, pain and poverty.

Thirdly, He is wonderfully unlucky, infomuch that he will bite the hand that feedshim, and endeavour to ridicule both friends and foes indifferently. For having but small talents, he must be merry where he can, not where he should.

Fourthly, Being intirely void of reason, he pursues no point either of morality or instruction, but is ludicrous only for the fake of being fo.

Fifthly, Being incapable of having any thing but mock representations, his ridicule is always perfonal, and aimed at the vicious man, or the writer; not at the vice, or at the writing.

I have here only pointed at the whole species of false humourifts; but as one of my principal defigns in this paper is to beat down that malignant spirit which discovers itself in the writings of the present age, I shall not fcruple, for the future, to single out any of thefmall wits, that infeft the world with fuch compofitions as are ill-natured, moral and abfurd. This is the only exception which I shall make to the general rule I have prescribed myself, of attacking multitudes: Since every honest man ought to look upon himself as in a natural state of war with the libeller and lampooner, and to annoy them wherever they fall in his way. This is but retaliating upon them, and treating them as they treat others.

Mr. SPECTATOR,

SPECTATOR, Vol. I. No. 35.

HUSBAND..

"HAVING AVING in your paper of Monday last, published my report on the cafe of Mrs. Fanny Fickle, wherein I have taken notice, that love comes after marriage; I hope your readers are fatisfied of this truth, that as love generally produces matrimony, fo it often happens that matrimony produces love.

"It perhaps requires more virtues to make a good husband or wife, than what go to the finishing any of the most shining character whatsoever.

"Difcretion feems absolutely necessary, and accordingly we find that the best husbands have been most famous for their wisdom. Homer, who hath drawn a perfect pattern of a prudent man, to make it the more complete, hath celebrated him for the just returns of fidelity and truth to his Penelope; infomuch that he

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