LAUGHTER, an affection peculiar to mankind, occasioned by something that tickles the fancy.

In laughter the eye-brows are raised about the middle, and drawn down next the nose; the eyes are almost shut'; the mouth opens and shows the teeth, the corners of the mouth being drawn back and raised up; the cheeks seem puffed up, and almost hide the eyes; the face is usually red; the nostrils are open; and the eyes are moistened.

Authors attribute laughter to the fifth pair of nerves, which, sending branches to the eye, ear, lips, tongue, palate, and muscles of the cheek, part of the mouth, praecordia, &c. there hence arises a sympathy, or consent, between all these parts; so that when one of them is acted upon, the others are proportionally affected. Hence a savoury thing seen or smelt affects the glands and part of the mouth; a thing seen or heard that is shameful, affects the cheeks with blushes; on the contrary, if it please and tickle the fancy, it affects the praecordia and muscles of the mouth and face with laughter; if it cause sadness and melancholy, it likewise affects the praecordia, and demonstrates itself by causing the glands of the eyes to emit tears. Dr Willis accounts for the pleasure of kissing from the same cause; the branches of this fifth pair being ‘spread to the lips, the praecordia, and the genital parts, hence arises a sympathy between these parts.

The affection of the mind by which laughter is produced is seemingly so very different from the other passions with which we are endowed, that it has engaged the attention of very eminent persons to discover it. Aristotle, in the fifth chapter of his Poetics, observes of comedy, that “it imitates those vices or meannesses only which partake of the ridiculous ;” but “the ridiculous,” says he, “consists of some fault or turpitude not attended with great pain, and not destructive.” “The passion of laughter,” says Hobbes, “is nothing else but sudden glory arising from some sudden conception of some eminency in ourselves, by comparison with the infirmity of others, or with our own formerly. For men,” continues he “laugh at the follies of themselves past, when they come suddenly to remembrance, except when they bring with them any sudden dishonour.” Akenside, in the third book of his poem, treats of ridicule at considerable length. He gives a detail of ridiculous characters; ignorant pretenders to learning, boastful soldiers, and lying travellers; hypocritical churchmen, conceited politicians, and old women that talk of their charms and virtue; ragged philosophers who rail at riches, virtuosi intent upon trifles, romantic lovers, wits wantonly satirical, fops that out of vanity appear to be diseased and profligate, dastards who are ashamed or afraid without reason, and fools who are ignorant of what they ought to know. Having finished the detail of characters, he makes some general remarks on the cause of ridicule, and explains himself more fully in a definition in prose, illustrated by examples. “That which makes objects ridiculous,” he observes, “is some grōund of admiration or esteem connected with other more general circumstances comparatively worthless or deformed: or it is some circumstance of turpitude or deformity connected with what is in general excellent or beautiful; the inconsistent properties existing either in [7:13:122]the objects themselves, or in the apprehension of the person to whom they relate, belonging always to the same order or class of being, implying sentiment and design, and exciting no acute or vehement commotion of the heart.” Hutcheson has given another account of the ludicrous quality, and seems to think that it is the contrast or opposition of dignity and meanness which occasions laughter.

But all these opinions are combated, by Dr Beattie in his Essay on Laughter and Ludicrous Composition. “ To provoke laughter,” says he, “is not essential either to wit or humour. For though that unexpected discovery of resemblance between ideas supposed dissimilar, which is called wit, and that comic exhibition of singular characters, sentiments, and imagery, which is denominated humour, do frequently raise laughter, they do not raise it always. Addison’s poem to Sir Godfrey Kneller, in which the British kings are likened to heathen gods, is exquisitely witty, and yet not laughable. Pope’s Essay on Man abounds in serious wit; and examples of serious humour are not uncommon in Fielding’s History of Parson Adams, and in Addison’s account of Sir Roger de Coverley. Wit, when the subject is grave, and the allusions sublime, raises admiration instead of laughter; and if the comic singularities of a good man appear in circumstances of real distress, the imitation of these singularities in the epic or dramatic comedy will form a species of humour, which, if it should force a smile, will draw forth a tear at the same time. An inquiry, therefore, into the distinguishing characters of wit and humour has no necessary connection with the present subject.

“Some authors have treated of ridicule, without marking the distinction between ridiculous and ludicrous ideas. But I presume the natural order of proceeding in this inquiry, is to begin with ascertaining the nature of what is purely ludicrous. Things ludicrous and things ridiculous have this in common, that both excite laughter; but the former excite pure laughter, the latter excite laughter mixed with disapprobation and contempt. My design is to analyze and explain that quality in things or ideas which makes them provoke pure laughter, and entitles them to the name of ludicrous or laughable. “When certain objects,. qualities, or ideas, occur to our senses, memory, or imagination, we smile or laugh at them, and expect that other men should do the same. To smile on certain occasions is not less natural than to weep at the sight of distress, or cry out when we feel pain.

“There are different kinds of laughter. As a boy, passing by night through a churchyard, sings or whistles in order to conceal his fear, even from himself; so there are men who, by forcing a smile, endeavour sometimes to hide from others, and from themselves too, perhaps, their malevolence or envy. Such laughter is unnatural. The sound of it offends the ear; the features distorted by it seem horrible to the eye. A mixture of hypocrisy, malice, and cruel joy, thus displayed on the countenance, is one of the most hateful sights in nature, and transforms the i human face divine’ into the visage of a fiend. Similar to this is the smile of a wicked person pleasing himself with the hope of accomplishing his evil purposes. Milton gives a striking picture of it in that well-known passage:

He ceas’d; for both seem’d highly pleas’d; and Death Grinn’d horrible a ghastly smile, to hear

His famine should be fill’d, and blest his maw Destin’d to that good hour.

But enough of this. Laughter that makes a man a fiend or a monster I have no inclination to analyze. My inquiries are confined to that species of laughter which is at once natural and innocent.

“Of this there are two sorts. The laughter occasioned by tickling or gladness is different from that which arises on reading the Tate of a Tub. The former may □e called animal laughter, the latter, if it were lawful to adopt a new word which has become very common, I should term sentimental. Smiles admit of similar divisions. Not to mention the scornful, the envious, the malevolent smile, I would only remark, that of the innocent and agreeable smile there are two sorts. The one proceeds from the risible emotion, and has a tendency to break out into laughter. The other is the effect of good humour, complacency, and tender affection. This last sort of smile renders a countenance amiable in the highest degree. Homer ascribes it to Venus in an epithet (fikομμM)ης) which Dryden and Pope, after Waller, improperly translate laughter-loving ; an idea that accords better with the character of a romp or hoyden than with the goddess of love and beauty.

“Animal laugnter admits of various degrees; from the gentle impulse excited in a child by moderate joy, to that terrifying and even mortal convulsion which has been known to accompany a change of fortune. This passion may, as well as joy and sorrow, be communicated by sympathy; and I know not whether the entertainment we receive from the playful tricks of kittens and other young animals, may not in part be resolved into something like a fellow-feeling of their vivacity. Animal and sentimental laughter are frequently blended; but it is easy to distinguish them. The former is often excessive; the latter never, unless heightened by the other. The latter is always pleasing, both in itself and in its cause; the former may be painful in both. But their principal difference is this: The one always proceeds from a sentiment or emotion exited in the mind, in consequence of certain ideas or objects being presented to it, of which emotion we may be conscious, even when we suppress laughter; the other arises not from any sentiment or perception of ludicrous ideas, but from some bodily feeling or sudden impulse on what is called the animal spirits, proceeding, or seeming to proceed, from the operation of causes purely material. The present inquiry regards that species that is here distinguished by the name of sentimental laughter.

“The pleasing emotion, arising from the view of ludicrous ideas, is known to every one by experience; but, being a simple feeling, admits not of definition. It is to be distinguished from the laughter that generally attends it, as sorrow is to be distinguished from tears; for it is often felt in a high degree by those who are remarkable for gravity of countenance. Swift seldom laughed, notwithstanding his uncommon talents in wit and humour, and the extraordinary delight he seems to have had in surveying the ridiculous side of things. Why this agreeable emotion should be accompanied with laughter as its outward sign, or sorrow express itself by tears, or fear by trembling or paleness, I cannot ultimately explain, otherwise than by saying, that such is the appointment of the Author of nature. All I mean by this inquiry is to determine, What is peculiar to those things which produce laughter, or, rather, which raise in the mind that pleasing sentiment or emotion whereof laughter is the external sign.

‘(Philosophers have differed in their opinions concerning this matter. In Aristotle’s definition, quoted above, it is clear that he means to characterize, not laughable qualities in general (as some have thought), but the objects of comic ridicule only; and in this view the definition is just, however it may have been overlooked or despised by comic writers. Crimes and misfortunes are often in modern plays, and were sometimes in the ancient, held up as objects of public merriment; but if poets had that reverence for nature which they ought to have, they would not shock the common sense of mankind by so absurd a representation. The definition from Aristotle does [7:13:123]not, however, suit the general nature of ludicrous ideas; for it will appear by and by, that men laugh at that in which there is neither fault nor turpitude of any kind.

« The theory of Mr Hobbes would hardly have deserved notice, if Addison had not spoken of it with approbation in the 47th paper of the Spectator. He justly observes, after quoting the words of Mr Hobbes formerly mentioned, that, i according to this account, when we hear a man laugh excessively, instead of saying that he is very merry, we ought to tell him that he is very proud.’ It is strange that the elegant author should be aware of this consequence, and yet admit the theory; for so good a judge of human nature could not be ignorant, that laughter is not considered as a sign of pride; persons of singular gravity being often suspected of that vice, but great laughers seldom or never. When we see a man attentive to the innocent humours of a merry company, and yet maintain a fixed solemnity of countenance, is it natural for us to think that he is the humblest, and the only humble person in the circle?

“Another writer in the Spectator (No. 249), remarks, in confirmation of this theory, that the vainest part of mankind are most addicted to the passion of laughter. Now, how can this be, if the proudest part of mankind are also most addicted to it, unless we suppose vanity and pride to be the same thing? But they certainly are different passions. The proud man despises other men, and derives his chief pleasure from the contemplation of his own importance; the vain man stands in need of the applause of others, and cannot be happy without it. Pride is apt to be reserved and sullen; vanity is often affable, and officiously obliging. The proud man is so confident of his merit, and thinks it so obvious to all the world, that he will scarcely give himself the trouble to inform you of it; the vain man, to raise your admiration, scruples not to tell you, not only the whole truth, but even a great deal more. In the same person, these two passions may, no doubt, be united; but some men are too proud to be vain, and some vain men are too conscious of their own weakness to be proud. Be all this, however, as it will, we have not as yet made any discovery of the cause of laughter; in regard to which, I apprehend, that the vain are not more intemperate than other people; and I am sure that the proud are much less so.

Hutcheson’s account of the origin of laughter is equally unsatisfactory. Granting what he says to be true, I would observe, in the first place, what the ingenious author seems to have been aware of, that there maybe a mixture of meanness and dignity where there is nothing ludicrous. A city, considered as a collection of low and lofty houses, is no laughable object. Nor was that person either ludicrous or ridiculous, whom Pope so justly characterizes,

The greatest, wisest, meanest of mankind.

But, secondly, cases might be mentioned, of laughter arising from a group of ideas or objects, wherein there is no discernible opposition of meanness or dignity. We are told of the dagger of Hudibras, that

It could scrape trenchers, or chip bread, Toast cheese or bacon, though it were To bait a mouse trap, ’ twou ’ d not care; ’ Twou'd make clean shoes, or in the earth Set leeks and onions, and so forth.

The humour of the passage cannot arise from the meanness of these offices compared with the dignity of the dagger, nor from any opposition of meanness and dignity in the offices themselves, they being all equally mean; and must therefore be owing to some peculiarity in the description. We laugh when a droll mimics the solemnity of a grave person; here dignity and meanness are indeed united; but we laugh also (though not so heartily perhaps) when he mimics the peculiarities of a fellow as insignificant as himself, and displays no opposition of dignity and meanness. The levities of Sancho Pança, opposed to the solemnity of his master, and compared with his own schemes of preferment, form an entertaining contrast; but some of the vagaries of that renowned squire are truly laughable, even when his preferment and his master are out of the question. Men laugh at puns; the wisest and wittiest of our species have laughed at them; Queen Elizabeth, Cicero, and Shakspeare, laughed at them; clowns and children laugh at them; and most men, at one time or other, are inclined to do the same; but in this sort of low wit, is it an opposition of meanness and dignity that entertains us? Is it not rather a mixture of sameness and diversity; sameness in the sound, and diversity in the signification?

“In the characters mentioned by Akenside, the author does not distinguish between what is laughable and what is contemptible; so that we have no reason to think that he meant to specify the qualities peculiar to those things which provoke pure laughter ; and whatever account we may make of his definition, which to those who acquiesce in the foregoing reasonings may appear not quite satisfactory, there is in the poem a passage that deserves particular notice, as it seems to contain a more exact account of the ludicrous quality than is to be found in any of the theories above mentioned. This passage we shall soon have occasion to quote.”

Dr Beattie then proceeds to give his own theory concerning the origin of laughter, which he supposes to arise from the view of things incongruous united in the same assemblage, “However imperfect,” says he, “the above-mentioned theories may appear, there is none of them destitute of merit; and indeed the most fanciful philosopher seldom frames a theory without consulting nature in some of her more obvious appearances. Laughter very frequently arises from the view of dignity and meanness united in the same object; sometimes, no doubt, from the appearance of assumed inferiority, as well as of small faults and unimportant turpitudes; and sometimes, perhaps, though rarely, from that sort of pride which is described in the passage already quoted from Hobbes.

“All these accounts agree in this, that the cause of laughter is something compounded; or something that disposes the mind to form a comparison, by passing from one object or idea to another. That this is in fact the case, cannot be proved a priori ; but this holds in all the examples hitherto given, and will be found to hold in all that are given hereafter. May it not then be laid down as a principle, that laughter arises from the view of two or more objects or ideas disposing the mind to form a comparison? According to the theory of Hobbes, this comparison would be between the ludicrous object and ourselves; according to those writers who misapply Aristotle’s definition, it would seem to be formed between the ludicrous object and things or persons in general; and if we incline to Hutcheson’s theory, which is the best of the three, we shall think that there is a comparison of the parts of the ludicrous object, first with one another, and secondly with ideas or things extraneous.

“Further, every appearance that is made up of parts, or that leads the mind of the beholder to form a comparison, is not ludicrous. The body of a man or woman, of a horse, a fish, or a bird, is not ludicrous, though it consists of many parts; and it may be compared to many other things without raising laughter; but the picture described in the beginning of the epistle to the Pisoes, with a man’s head, a horse’s neck, feathers of different birds, limbs of different beasts, and the tail of a fish, would have been thought ludicrous 1800 years ago, if we believe Horace, and in certain circumstances would no doubt be so at this day. It would seem, then, that i the parts [7:13:124] of a laughable assemblage must be in some degree unsuitable and heterogeneous.’

“Moreover, any one of the parts of the Horatian monster, a human head, a horse’s neck, the tail of a fish, or the plumage of a fowl, is not ludicrous in itself; nor would those several pieces be ludicrous if attended to in succession, without any view to their union. For, to see them disposed on the different shelves of a museum, or even on the same shelf, nobody would laugh, except, perhaps, the thought of uniting them were to occur to his fancy, or the passage of Horace to his memory. It seems to follow, that ‘ the incongruous parts of a laughable idea or object must either be combined so as to form an assemblage, or must be supposed to be so combined.’

“May we not then conclude, ‘ that laughter arises from the view of two or more inconsistent, unsuitable, or incongruous parts or circumstances, considered as unitedin one complex object or assemblage, or as acquiring a sort of mutual relation, from the peculiar manner in which the mind takes notice of them?’ The lines from Akenside formerly referred to, seem to point at the same doctrine:

Where’er the powr of ridicule displays Her quaint-ey’d visage, some incongruous form, Some stubborn dissonance of things combin'd, Strikes on the quick observer.

And to the same purpose, the learned and ingenious Dr Gerard, in his Essay on Taste : ‘ The sense of ridicule is gratified by an inconsistence and dissonance of circumstances in the same object, or in objects nearly related in the main; or by a similitude or a relation unexpected between things on the whole opposite and unlike.’

“And therefore, instead of saying with Hutcheson, that the cause or object of laughter is an ‘ opposition to dignity and meanness,’ I would say, in more general terms, that it is ‘ an opposition to suitableness or unsuitableness, or of relation and the want of relation, united, or supposed to be united, in the same assemblage.’ Thus the offices ascribed to the dagger of Hudibras seem quite heterogeneous; but we discover a bond of connection among them, when we are told that the same weapon could occasionally perform them all. Thus, even in that mimicry which displays no opposition of dignity and meanness, we perceive the actions of one man joined to the features and body of another; that is, a mixture of unsuitableness, or want of relation, arising from the difference of persons, with congruity and similitude, arising from the sameness of the actions. And here let it be observed in general, that the greater number of incongruities that are blended in the same assemblage, the more ludicrous it will probably be. If, as in Butler’s resemblance of the morning to a boiled lobster, there is a mixture of dignity and meanness, as well as of likeness and dissimilitude, the effect of the contrast will be more powerful than if only one of these oppositions had occurred in the ludicrous idea. The sublimity of Don Quixote’s mind, contrasted and connected with his miserable equipage, forms a very comical exhibition; but when all this is still further connected and contrasted with Sancho Pança, the ridicule is heightened exceedingly. Had the knight of the lions been better mounted and accoutred, he would not have made us smile so often; because, the hero’s mind and circumstances being more adequately matched, the whole group would have united fewer inconsistencies, and reconciled fewer incongruities. Butler has combined a still greater variety of uncouth and jarring circumstances in Ralpho and Hudibras; but the picture, though more elaborate, is less natural. Yet this argues no defect of judgment. His design was, to make his hero not only ludicrous, but contemptible; and therefore he jumbles together, in his ’equipage and person, a number of mean and disgusting qualities, pedantry, ignorance, nastiness, and extreme deformity. But the knight of La Mancha, though a ludicrous, was never intended for a contemptible personage. He often moves our pity, he never forfeits our esteem; and his adventures and sentiments are generally interesting; which could not have been the case if his story had not been natural, and himself been endowed with great as well as good qualities. To have given him such a shape, and such weapons, arguments, boots, and breeches, as Butler has bestowed on his champion, would have destroyed that solemnity which is so striking a feature in Don Quixote; and Hudibras, with the manners and person of the Spanish hero, would not have been that paltry figure which the English poet meant to hold up to the laughter and contempt of his countrymen. Sir Launcelot Greaves is of Don Quixote’s kindred, but a different character. Smollett’s design was not to expose him to ridicule, but rather to recommend him to our pity and admiration. He has therefore given him youth, strength, and beauty, as well as courage and dignity of mind; has mounted him on a generous steed, and arrayed him in an elegant suit of armour. Yet, that the history might have a comic air, he has been careful to contrast and connect Sir Launcelot with a squire and other associates of very dissimilar tempers and circumstances.

“What has been said of the cause of laughter does not amount to an exact description, far less to a logical definition; there being innumerable combinations of congruity and inconsistency, of relation and contrariety, of likeness and dissimilitude, which are not ludicrous at all. If we could ascertain the peculiarities of these, we should be able to characterize with more accuracy the general nature of ludicrous combination. But before we proceed to this, it would be proper to evince, that of the present theory thus much at least is true, that though every incongruous combination is not ludicrous, every ludicrous combination is incongruous.

“It is only by a detail of facts or examples that any theory of this sort can be either established or overthrown. By such a detail, the foregoing theories have been, or may be, shown to be ill founded, or not sufficiently comprehensive. A single instance of a laughable object, which neither unites, nor is supposed to unite, incongruous ideas, would likewise show the insufficiency of the present; nor will I undertake to prove (for indeed I cannot), that no such instance can be given. A complete enumeration of ludicrous objects it would be in vain to attempt; and therefore we can never hope to ascertain, beyond the possibility of doubt, that common quality which belongs to all ludicrous ideas that are, or have been, or may be, imagined. All that can be done in a case of this kind is to prove, by a variety of examples, that the theory now proposed is more comprehensive, and better founded, than any of the foregoing.” This our author afterwards shows at full length; but as the variety of examples adduced by him would take up too much room to be inserted here, and as every reader must be capable of adducing numberless instances of ludicrous cases to himself, we shall content ourselves with the above explanation of the different theories of laughter, referring those who desire further satisfaction to the treatise already quoted.