To make this evident, it seems necessary only to explain the terms, a matter in which I do not see the great difficulty which hath appeared to other writers. Some of these have spoken of the word humour, as if it contained in it some mystery impossible to be revealed, and no one, as I know of, hath undertaken to shew us expressly what it is, though I scarce doubt but it was amply done by Aristotle in his treatise on comedy, which is unhappily lost.

But what is more surprising, is, that we find it pretty well explained in authors who at the same time tell us, they know not what it is. Mr. Congreve, in a letter to Mr. Dennis, hath these words: We cannot certainly tell what wit is, or what humour is;' and within a few lines afterwards he says, There is a great difference between a comedy wherein there are many things humorously, as they call it, which is pleasantly spoken; and one where there are several characters of humour, distinguished by the particular and different humours appropriated to the several persons represented, and which naturally arise from the different constitutions, complexions, and dispositions ' of men. And again, I take humour to be a singular and unavoidable manner of saying or doing any thing peculiar and natural to one man only; by which his speech and actions are distinguished from those of other men. Our humour hath relation to us, and to what proceeds from us, as the accidents have to a substance; it is a colour, taste, and smell diffused through all; though our actions are ever so many, and different in form, they are all splinters of the same wood, and have naturally one complexion, &c.'

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If my reader hath any doubt whether this is a just description of humour, let him compare it with those examples of humorous characters, which

the greatest masters have given us, and which have been universally acknowledged as such, and he will be perhaps convinced.

Ben Jonson, after complaining of the abuse of the word, proceeds thus:

Why humour (as 'tis ens) we thus define it,
To be a quality of air, or water,

And in itself holds these two properties,
Moisture and fluxure; as for demonstration,
Pour water on this floor; 'twill wet and run;
Likewise the air forc'd thro' a horn, or trumpet,
Flows instantly away, and leaves behind
A kind of dew; and hence we do conclude,
That whatsoe'er hath fluxure and humidity,
As wanting power to contain itself,

Is humour. So in every human body,
The choler, melancholy, phlegm and blood,
By reason that they flow continually
In some one part, and are not continent,
Receive the name of humours. Now thus far,
It may, by metaphor, apply itself
Unto the general disposition;

'As when some one peculiar quality
'Doth so possess a man, that it doth draw
All his effects, his spirits, and his powers,
'In their confluxions all to run one way,'
This may be truly said to be a humour.
But that a rook by wearing a py'd feather,
The cable hatband, or the three piled ruff,
A yard of shoe-tie, or the Switzer's knot
On his French garters, should affect a humour!
O! it is more than most ridiculous.

This passage is in the first act of Every man out of his humour; and I question not but to some readers, the author will appear to have been out of his wits when he wrote it; but others, I am positive, will discern much excellent ore shining among the rubbish. In truth, his sentiment, when let loose from that stiff boddice in which it is laced, will amount to this, that as the term humour contains

in it the ideas of moisture and fluxure, it was applied to certain moist and flux habits of the body, and afterwards metaphorically to peculiar qualities of the mind, which, when they are extremely prevalent, do, like the predominant humours of the body, flow all to one part, and as the latter are known to absorb and drain off all the corporeal juices and strength to themselves, so the former are no less certain of engaging the affections, spirits, and powers of the mind, and of enlisting them as it were, into their own servicé, and under their own absolute command.

Here then we have another pretty adequate notion of humour, which is, indeed, nothing more than a violent bent or disposition of the mind to some particular point. To enumerate, indeed, these several dispositions would be, as Mr. Congreve ob-serves, as endless as to sum up the several opinions of men; nay, as he well says, the quot bomines tot fententia may be more properly interpreted of their humours, than their opinions.

Hitherto there is no mention of the Ridiculous, the idea of which, though not essential to humour, is always included in our notions of it. The Ridiculous is annexed to it these two ways, either by the manner, or the degree in which it is exerted.

By either of these, the very best and worthiest disposition of the human mind may become ridiculous. Excess, says Horace, even in the pursuit of virtue, will lead a wise and good man into folly and vice--So will it subject him to ridicule; for into this, says the judicious abbé Bellegarde, a man may tumble headlong with an excellent understanding, and with the most laudable qualities. Piety, patriotism, loyalty, parental affection, &c. have all afforded characters of humour for the stage.

By the manner of exerting itself likewise, a humour becomes ridiculous. By this means chiefly

the tragic humour differs from the comic; it is the same ambition which raises our horror in Macbeth, and our laughter at the drunken sailors in the Tempest; the same avarice which causes the dreadful incidents in the fatal curiosity of Lillo, and in the Miser of Moliere; the same jealousy which forms an Othello, or a Suspicious Husband. No passion or humour of the mind is absolutely either tragic or comic in itself. Nero had the art of making vanity the object of horror; and Domitian, in one instance, at least, made cruelty ridiculous.

As these tragic modes however never enter into our notion of humour, I will venture to make a small addition to the sentiments of the two great masters I have mentioned, by which I apprehend my description of humour will pretty well coincide with the general opinion. By humour then, I suppose, is generally intended a violent impulse of the mind, determining it to some one particular point, by which a man becomes ridiculously distinguished. from all other men.

If there be any truth in what I have now said, nothing can more clearly follow than the manifest repugnancy between humour and good-breeding. The latter being the art of conducting yourself by certain common and general rules, by which means, if they were universally observed, the whole world would appear (as all courtiers actually do) to be, in their external behaviour, at least, but one and the same person.

I have not room at present, if I were able, to enumerate the rules of good-breeding: I shall only mention one, which is a summary of them all. This is the most golden of all rules, no less than that of doing to all men as you would they should do unto you.

In the deviation from this law, as I hope to evince in my next, all that we call humour principally con

sists. I shall at the same time, I think, be able to shew, that it is to this deviation we owe the general character mentioned in the beginning of this paper, as well as to assign the reasons why we of this nation have been capable of attracting to ourselves such merit in preference to others.

Ат

NUMB. 56. SATURDAY, JULY 25, 1752.

T the conclusion of my last paper, I asserted that the summary of good-breeding was no other than that comprehensive and exalted rule, which the greatest authority hath told us is the sum total of all religion and all morality.

Here, however, my readers will be pleased to observe that the subject matter of good-breeding being only what is called behaviour, it is this only to which we are to apply it on the present occasion. Perhaps, therefore, we shall be better understood, if we vary the word, and read it thus: Behave unto all men, as you would they should behave unto you.

This will most certainly oblige us to treat all mankind with the utmost civility and respect, there being nothing which we desire more than to be treated so by them. This will most effectually restrain the indulgence of all those violent and inordinate desires, which, as we have endeavoured to shew, are the true seeds of humour in the human mind; the growth of which good-breeding will be sure to obstruct; or will at least so over