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 aweuniv
 
 THE MODERN STUDENT'S LIBRARY 
 
 EDITED BY 
 
 WILL D. HOWE 
 
 FBOFESSOB OF ENGLISH AT INDIANA tJNIVEBSITT 
 
 AN ESSAY ON COMEDY
 
 The Modern Student's Library 
 
 Published by CHARLES SCRIBNER'S SONS 
 
 THE ORDEAL OF RICHARD FEVEREL 
 
 By George Meredith. 
 THE HISTORY OF PENDENNIS. 
 
 By William Makepeace Thackeray. 
 THE RETURN OF THE NATIVE. 
 
 By "Thomas Hardy. 
 BOSWELL'.S LIFE OF JOHNSON, 
 ADAM BEDE. 
 
 By George Eliot. 
 ENGLISH POETS OF THE EIGHTEENTH 
 
 CENTURY. 
 THE RING AND THE BOOK. 
 
 By Robert Browning. 
 PAST AND PRESENT. 
 
 By Thomas Carlyle. 
 PRIDE AND PREJUDICE. 
 
 By Jane Austen. 
 THE HEART OF MID-LOTHIAN. 
 
 By Sir Walter Scott. 
 THE SCARLET LETTER. 
 
 By Nathaniel Hawthorne. 
 EUNYAN'S PILGRIM'S PROGRESS. 
 THE ESSAYS OF ROBERT LOUIS STEVEN- 
 SON. 
 NINETEENTH CENTURY LETTERS. 
 THE ESSAYS OF ADDISON AND STEELE. 
 Each small 12mo. 75 cents net. 
 
 Other volumes in preparation.
 
 THE MODERN STUDENT'S LIBRARY 
 
 AN ESSAY ON COMEDY 
 
 AND THE USES OF THE COMIC SPIRIT 
 
 BY 
 
 GEORGE MEREDITH 
 
 EDITED, WITH AN INTRODUCTION AND NOTES 
 BT 
 
 LANE COOPER 
 
 PBOrESSOB OF THE ENGLISH LANGUAGE AND LITEBATUBB 
 AT CORNELL CNIVEBSITV 
 
 CHARLES SCRIBNER'S SONS 
 
 NEW YORK CHICAGO BOSTON
 
 COPTBIGHT 1897, 1918, BT 
 
 CHARLES SCRIBNERS SONS
 
 
 TO 
 
 JOSEPH QUINCY ADAMS 
 
 A LOYAL FRIEND AND FAITHFUL CRITIC
 
 PREFACE 
 
 Meredith's Essay on Comedy is not seldom 
 employed as a text-book, or for supplemen- 
 tary reading, in courses on the drama, on lit- 
 erary types, and on the theory of poetry in 
 general. Indeed, it has on occasion been 
 termed 'a classic' That it may properly be 
 so called, in every sense of the word classic, I 
 am not prepared to assert. But when Ameri- 
 can students are expected to read it in any 
 part of the curriculum, it seems to deserve and 
 require a measure of elucidation and comment. 
 For certain teachers its principal value may 
 lie in the stimulus it gives the student to read 
 the great authors with whose works Meredith 
 is patently familiar, while the student is not; 
 and the suggestion might be made that here 
 is a reason why the Essay should not be sys- 
 tematically annotated. Yet there seems to 
 be no real ground for the fear that the presence 
 of notes would diminish the stimulating eflfect 
 in question. On the contrary, my experience 
 points to the belief that, for want of fuller 
 
 vii
 
 viii PREFACE 
 
 indications respecting the masterpieces (and 
 their authors) to which Meredith refers, many 
 of the allusions in the Essay escape due atten- 
 tion from the reader. Consequently I have 
 done my best to satisfy the demand of my own 
 pupils that the Essay be rendered more intel- 
 ligible to them through the customary appa- 
 ratus of an introduction, notes, bibliography, 
 and index. If I have not solved every diflB- 
 culty of interpretation or reference, I have not 
 consciously neglected any; and where my ef- 
 forts have not been altogether successful, the 
 Notes in each case, as I hope, clearly indicate 
 the deficiency. 
 
 In reprinting the Essay, I have not regarded 
 minor oversights of its author as sacred. A 
 few misquotations from other authors have 
 been rectified in the text, and the changes re- 
 corded in the Notes. And in the matter of 
 punctuation and the employment of capital 
 letters I have normalized with a free hand so 
 long as I was sure of the intended meaning, in 
 an effort to conform to the best usage of the 
 present. There can be no adequate reason 
 for perpetuating chance infelicities that tend 
 only to obscure the sense of Meredith's words 
 or to disfigure the page; and there is the less 
 reason in view of his complaint (see p. 27) that
 
 PREFACE ix 
 
 he was not very successful in revising his own 
 proof-sheets. Meanwhile I have spared no 
 pains to reproduce his actual words with the 
 utmost fidelity. 
 
 Since the Essay may serve as an introduc- 
 tion to the study of comedy, I have included 
 what purports to be a select and relatively 
 brief Bibliography, consisting first, in the 
 main, of standard or particularly accessible 
 editions of the chief comic writers, and sec- 
 ondly of a few more scholarly or scientific, and 
 a few more popular, works on comedy, laugh- 
 ter, and the like. 
 
 Lane Cooper 
 
 Cornell Untversity
 
 CONTENTS 
 
 PAGE 
 
 INTRODUCTION 1 
 
 ANALYSIS OF THE £SSA V 43 
 
 ON THE IDEA OF COMEDY AND OF THE 
 
 USES OF THE COMIC SPIRIT . . 73 
 
 VARIANT READINGS 157 
 
 NOTES 169 
 
 BIBLIOGRAPHY 295 
 
 INDEX 309
 
 INTRODUCTION
 
 INTRODUCTION 
 
 I. SKETCH OF MEREDITH'S LIFE 
 
 George Meredith, born February 12, 1828, 
 at Portsmouth, England, was the only child 
 of Augustus Armstrong Meredith,^ a naval 
 outfitter, and his first wife, Jane Eliza Mac- 
 namara, the father being of Welsh, the mother 
 of Irish, extraction. After her death (when 
 the son was five years old), the father re- 
 married, and emigrated to Capetown, even- 
 tually returning to spend the last ten years 
 of his life at Southsea, where he died (1876) 
 at the age of seventy-five. Generally reti- 
 cent concerning his early life, Meredith 
 spoke seldom, and not without reluctance, 
 of his father; his paternal grandfather, 
 Melchizedek, and grandmother, Anne, ap- 
 pear as 'the Great Mel' and his wife at the 
 opening of Evan Harrington. According to 
 the novelist, his mother was said to have been 
 'handsome, refined, and witty'; and he adds: 
 *I think that there must have been some 
 
 ' The father was christened Gustave Urmston, and the name 
 was later changed to Augustus Armstrong. 
 
 3
 
 4 THE IDEA OF COMEDl 
 
 Saxon strain in the ancestry to account for a 
 virility of temperament which corrected the 
 Celtic in me, although the feminine rules in 
 so far as my portraiture of womanhood is 
 faitliful. ' 1 When his father left Ports- 
 mouth, the boy remained at school there, 
 learning nothing of consequence, as he after- 
 ward judged, except through the reading of 
 the Arabian Nights; these stimulated his 
 imagination, and he began to invent tales for 
 himself. At the age of fourteen he was sent 
 to the Moravian school at Neuwied, on the 
 Rhine, near Cologne; here he underwent a 
 religious experience, which was not, however, 
 lasting, and here he made acquaintance with 
 Continental literature. At sixteen he re- 
 turned to England, only to find that the 
 modest property he had inherited from his 
 mother had been reduced through misman- 
 agement until there was but money enough 
 to let him be articled to a London solicitor, 
 R. S. Charnock. But for law he had no 
 taste. Yet the connection was important. 
 
 ' See the article, George Meredith: Some Recotlections, by 
 Edward Clodd, in the Fortnightly Review 92. 19-31 (July, 
 1909); hereafter referred to as 'Clodd.' Lord Morley (Recol- 
 lections 1. 37) says that Meredith described himself as a per- 
 son 'of excellent temper, spotless principles, no sex.' Morley 's 
 Recollections are hereafter referred to as 'Morley.*
 
 INTRODUCTION 5 
 
 for Charnock was one of a coterie of writers 
 which included members of the family of the 
 novelist Thomas Love Peacock. Meredith 
 now read widely in the classics, and in Ger- 
 man literature; he wrote verse before he was 
 nineteen, and drifted into journalism. Strait- 
 ened in circumstances as he was, in 1849 he 
 married Mrs. Mary Ellen Nicolls, the wid- 
 owed daughter of Peacock, Meredith being 
 twenty-one years old, and she nine years his 
 senior. From Peacock, Lord Morley be- 
 lieves,^ the young man 'acquired marked 
 qualities of thought and style.' But the 
 union was unhappy, though Meredith does 
 not reveal enough concerning the facts to 
 warrant much discussion. 'No sun warmed 
 my roof-tree,' he says; 'the marriage was a 
 blunder.' ^ They separated, without legal 
 action; when she died in 1861, the care of 
 their only child, a son, devolved upon him. 
 This experience of wedded life is reflected in 
 the series of fifty sonnet-like (sixteen-line) 
 poems entitled Modern Love (1862). In 1860 
 Meredith began work as a critic of manu- 
 scripts for the house of Chapman and Hall, 
 who had previously published for him The 
 Shaving of Shagpat and The Ordeal of Richard 
 
 » Morley 1. 37. « Clodd. p. 21.
 
 6 THE IDEA OF COMEDY 
 
 Feverel; from then until 1895 they pubHshed 
 all his novels except Evan Harrington (1861), 
 Rhoda Fleming (18G5), The Adventures of 
 Harry Richmond (1871), and The Egoist 
 (1879); moreover, during the temporary ab- 
 sence of John Morley, he took charge of their 
 Fortnightly Revieio, and he also edited for 
 them a series of Military Biographies. His 
 official connection with the firm did not ter- 
 minate until 1894. As 'reader' for them he 
 passed judgment on some of the early work 
 of William Black, Edwin Arnold, Thomas 
 Hardy, Samuel Butler (Erewhon), Cotter 
 Morison, George Gissing, and Fitzmaurice 
 Kelly {Life of Cervantes). An arbitrary ele- 
 ment frequently appeared in his praise or 
 censure, yet, in spite of a costly mistake or 
 two, it must be said that he served the in- 
 terests of Chapman and Hall long and well, 
 his criticism being wholly without fear or 
 favor. When he rejected immature work 
 that showed promise, he warned the pub- 
 lishers to watch the author for future pro- 
 ductions, and often aided him with personal 
 advice.^ In 1864 he married IMiss Marie 
 
 ' See B. W. Matz, George Meredith as Publisher's Reader, in 
 the Fortnightly Review 92. 282-298 (July, 1909); hereafter 
 referred to as ' Matz.'
 
 IXTRODUCTIOX 7 
 
 Vulliamy, with whom twenty years of hap- 
 piness were in store for him; a son and a 
 daughter were born to them. In 18G6 he 
 was sent to Italy by the Morning Post as 
 special correspondent during the close of the 
 Austro-Italian war. Henceforward, though 
 anything like a general recognition of his 
 merits as a novelist came late, his circum- 
 stances, while never affluent, ceased to be 
 straitened; yet so late as 1874 he was moved 
 to increase his income by reading aloud to a 
 blind old lady in London. On the death of 
 John Forster in 1876, Meredith was regularly 
 installed as his successor with Chapman and 
 Hall, becoming their official critic at a fixed, 
 though not wholly adequate, salary. Subse- 
 quently he received two legacies from rela- 
 tives. On February 1, 1877, he delivered his 
 lecture at the London Institution (see p. 171)/ 
 on The Idea of Comedy and the Uses of the] 
 Comic Spirit. Here he developed a fa^ 
 conception which had been prefigured in ^ 
 earlier works such as Sandra Belloni (1864) 
 and Vittoria (1865), and to which he after- 
 ward returned in his obscure Ode to the Comic 
 Spirit, in The Two Masks, and in the Prelude 
 to The Egoist (see pp. 34-42). Beyond this 
 point it is unnecessary for our purposes to
 
 8 THE IDEA OF COMEDY 
 
 follow liis career; the details of his subse- 
 quent life, with ample references to his own 
 works, and to books and articles about him, 
 may be found in the excellent sketch by 
 Thomas Seccombe in the Dictionary of Na- 
 tional Biography, Second Supplement.^ But 
 we may note that his life was full of friend- 
 ships. Among his earlier and later friends 
 were Cotter Morison, author of the Life of 
 St. Bernard; John (latterly Viscount) Morley, 
 whose Recollections, just published, give a 
 vivid picture of Meredith; Admiral Maxse, 
 Swinburne, Moncure Conway, Robert Louis 
 Stevenson, Lowell, W. E. Henley, and Ed- 
 ward Clodd. One of his companions in 
 walking was Sir Frederick Pollock. Of great 
 physical activity throughout most of his life, 
 Meredith may have injured himself by ex- 
 cesses in exercise. In old age a spinal lesion 
 rendered him helpless, so that he was de- 
 prived of the stimulus and solace of walk- 
 ing; but his mind continued active. He 
 died on May 19, 1909. One of the staflf of 
 Chapman and Hall thus describes Meredith 
 in his maturity:^ 'His figure was familiar to 
 
 ' See also W. T. Young on Meredith in The Cambridge His- 
 tory of English Literature, vol. 13, chap. 14 (pp. 489-499), and 
 the appended Bibliography (pp. 622-624). 
 
 sMatz, p. 282.
 
 INTRODUCTION 9 
 
 all. The striking head, with clearly chiseled 
 features, the bright red tie contrasting 
 sharply with the iron-gray hair, and the 
 general appearance of alertness, had some- 
 thing of a galvanic effect upon those with 
 whom he came into contact; and his conver- 
 sation was no less electrifying.' To this pic- 
 ture we may add a few touches from Lord 
 Morley, depicting the novelist in his prime :^ 
 'He came to the morning meal after a long 
 hour's stride in the tonic air and fresh love- 
 liness of cool woods and green slopes, with 
 the brightness of sunrise upon his brow, 
 responsive penetration in his glance, the turn 
 of radiant irony in his lips and peaked beard, 
 his fine poetic head bright with crisp brown 
 hair, Phoebus Apollo descending upon us from 
 Olympus. His voice was strong, full, resonant, 
 harmonious, his laugh quick and loud. He 
 was born with much power both of muscle 
 and nerve, but he abused muscle and nerve 
 alike by violent gymnastic after hours of 
 intense concentration in constricted posture 
 over labors of brain and pen.' 
 
 J Morley 1. 37.
 
 10 THE IDEA OF COMEDY 
 
 n. MEREDITH'S BELIEFS AND 
 
 INTERESTS AS RELATED TO 
 
 THE ESSAY ON COMEDY 
 
 To his brief adherence to Christianity in 
 his youth Meredith in after-hfe referred with 
 no pleasure. He openly avowed his disbelief 
 in a personal God and a future existence of 
 the soul, and habitually alluded to the Chris- 
 tian faith as 'the Christian fable.' ^ His at- 
 titude to religion no doubt counted for some- 
 thing in his sympathy with Lord Morlej', York 
 Powell, John Stuart Mill, and Sainte-Beuve, 
 and with professed exponents of Positivism, A 
 or the philosophy of Auguste Comte, such as 
 Frederic Harrison. Thus it is hardly ac- 
 cidental when he quotes, in the Essay, from 
 the writings of the lexicographer Littre, the 
 recognized leader in France of the Positive 
 Philosophy after the death of Comte him- 
 self. One might therefore seek to establish a 
 relationship between Meredith and the Posi- 
 tivists in regard to religion and belief. And 
 in point of fact he has a substitute for 
 traditional Christianity resembling that of 
 Comte; for there is an affinity between the 
 cult of 'Earth' in the novelist and poet, and 
 
 1 Clodd, p. 26.
 
 mTRODUCTION 11 
 
 the ^ Grand Fetiche' (that is, the Earth) m 
 the French philosopher — something short of 
 the 'Grand Etre,' or universal object of wor- 
 ship (that is. Humanity). Furthermore, the\ 
 'Comic Spirit' of Meredith's Essay is an 
 efflux or emanation of human society, and is ^ 
 regarded as the presiding or tutelary genius I 
 of human civilization. But the spirit of i\m^ 
 Earth in Meredith is allied also to the Erd- 
 gcist which, with Goethe's own 'daemon,' fre- 
 quently occupies the attention of the Ger- 
 man writer — the writer whom our novelist 
 considers the greatest of men, and the most 
 potent and enduring influence he has met 
 with in life. Now the belief which Goethe 
 accepts in rejecting Christianity is an easily 
 identified, if not very exalted, form of Neo 
 platonism. Accordingly, in his belief, if we 
 are not to describe it negatively, Meredith 
 is Neoplatonic, and represents a trend of 
 thought characteristic of the nineteenth cen- 
 tury, midway between complete agnosticism 
 and orthodoxy, and possibly best defined by 
 the term Neopaganism — since Neoplatonism 
 was historically the last phase of paganism, 
 the phase in which primitive Christianity met 
 its most respectable and insidious foe, and the 
 phase which from time to time was to reap-
 
 12 THE IDEA OF COMEDY 
 
 pear in close touch with the later develop- 
 ment of Christianity, not seldom as an en- 
 emy within the walls. One may venture to 
 think, however, that Meredith did not pre- 
 cisely derive his behef from France or Ger- 
 many; rather it was this belief that rendered 
 him sympathetic with various French and 
 German writers of a like tendency. It would 
 seem more probable that liis notions of the 
 oneness of all Ufe and being, of 'the soul that 
 breathes through the universe' (to use his 
 own words ^), echo the thought of certain 
 English poets of the age preceding his; for 
 his expressions frequently remind us of 
 Wordsworth and the doctrine of the divine 
 immanence found in Wordsworth's earlier 
 poetry;- and his freely-devised mythology, 
 his invention of spirits (as 'the Comic Spirit') 
 and essences of one sort and another, and of 
 the imps in The Egoist,^ has a parallel in the 
 demon ology, clearly of Neoplatonic origin, 
 which Coleridge employs and half-believes, 
 and in the spirits, splendors, and other fic- 
 titious personages which Shelley produces, in 
 liis profuse, tenuous, and haphazard mytho- 
 logical machinery. 
 
 ' Clodd, p. 23. 
 
 » Compare Wordsworth, Tintem Abbey 93—102. 
 
 ' See below, pp. 40-42.
 
 INTRODUCTION 13 
 
 In the Essay on Comedy, however, we have 
 less to do with Meredith's cult of Earth and 
 worsliip of 'Nature,' than with the half-pagan 
 conception of the Comic Spirit ; now a wiser\ 
 alert, ironical demon of the upper air; again a / 
 more hazy 'emanation' of humanity; and yet V 
 again a mere verbal abstraction, not always 
 dignified with the capitals C and S; never- 
 theless on the whole an approach to a per- 
 sonality in whose existence the author would l 
 have us believe. In similar fashion he per- ! 
 sonifies Comedy itself, and Dulness, Moral-y 
 ity, Folly, Laughter, and Farce. 
 
 A writer who commonly employed an ex^ 
 pression like 'the Christian fable' must neces- 
 sarily be cut off from the full appreciation and 
 enjoyment of a large part of the world's best 
 literature. Meredith might be on friendly 
 terms with a writer on St. Bernard like 
 Cotter Morison, but could not very well 
 maintain a loving familiarity with the best 
 of Christian writers, or, in particular, with 
 Mediaeval literature as a whole. Accordingly, 
 when we refer, as we may, to the wide-rang- 
 ing interest shown by the author of the Essay 
 on Comedy in the literature of nearly every 
 age and nation, we must make an important 
 reservation in respect to what the Middle
 
 14 THE IDEA OF COMEDY 
 
 Ages offer in the way of comedy. True, he 
 has an eye for Boccaccio and Chaucer; but he 
 does not mention Dante, nor is there any 
 ^evidence that he is aware of the great body 
 [of Mediaeval comic poetry and prose. He 
 does not touch upon the comic element in the 
 Bible. We may take it for granted that his 
 interests lie in classical antiquity on the one 
 hand, and on the other, and more especially, 
 Un the literature of the Renaissance, down 
 bo his own time. He possessed a knowledge 
 of modern French and German writers not 
 easily matched m the circle of mid- Victorian 
 poets and novelists.^ But on the subject of 
 his own reading we may let Meredith speak 
 for himself. On April 5, 1906, he wrote to 
 Dr. H. R. D. Anders :2 
 
 'I remember reading in my youth Otto 
 Jahn's memoir of the great philologer Her- 
 mann and his indefatigable devotion to work, 
 with a sigh of regret that he, who had his 
 rivals at home, had so few, if any, among us. 
 As for me, you ask of my readings of the for- 
 mative kind. The}' were, first, the Arabian 
 
 ' Compare John Lees, George Meredith's Literary Relations 
 with Germany, in The Modern Language Review 12. 428-437 
 (October, 1917). 
 
 2 The Letters of George Meredith, edited by his son (W. M. 
 Meredith), two volumes. New York, 1912, 2. 578; this work 
 is hereafter cited as 'Letters.'
 
 INTRODUCTION 15 
 
 Nights; then Gibbon, Niebuhr, Walter Scott; 
 then Moliere; then the noble Goethe, the 
 most enduring. All the poets, English, Wei- 
 mar and Suabia and Austrian.' 
 
 Previously, in 1899, he had written to a 
 correspondent : ^ 
 
 'In reply to your request that I should 
 name the French writers now dead, who are, 
 in my opinion, most characteristic of the 
 genius of France, they are: For human phi- 
 losophy, Montaigne; for the comic apprecia- 
 tion of society, Moliere; for the observation 
 of life and condensed expression. La Bruyere; 
 for a most delicate irony scarcely distinguish- 
 able from tenderness, Renan; for liigh pitch 
 of impassioned sentiment, Racine. Add to 
 these your innumerable writers of Memoires 
 and Pensies, in which France has never had 
 a rival.' 
 
 These utterances evince mental breadth 
 and perspective; and breadth and perspec- 
 tive, in spite of limitations, are characteristic 
 of the Essaij on Comedy. In this, among the 
 ancient classical and modern Continental 
 writers of comedy, none of first importance 
 escapes attention. Plautus, indeed, receives 
 
 ^Letters 9. 501; the editor does not give the name of the 
 correspondent.
 
 16 THE IDEA OF COJVIEDY 
 
 scant justice; and Scandinavian comedy — for 
 example, that of Holberg— is not brought 
 under consideration; nor are Russian authors 
 considered. It may also be thought that, 
 notwithstanding the praise bestowed upon 
 them, Aristophanes and Shakespeare are un- 
 duly depressed m favor of Moliere, in that 
 Moliere becomes the central figure and point 
 of reference for the entire discussion. Even 
 so, the Essay on Comedy has the merit of a 
 fairly comprehensive survey of the comic 
 writers of all ages. From Greece are mar- 
 shaled Aristophanes and Menander; from 
 Rome, Plautus and Terence; from Italy, 
 Boccaccio, Machiavelli, and Goldoni; from 
 England, Chaucer, Shakespeare, Ben Jon- 
 son, AVycherley, Congreve, Sheridan, Gold- 
 smith, Fielding, Smollett, and Lamb; from 
 France, Rabelais, Moliere, and Augier — even 
 Erckmann-Chatrian; from Germany, Lessing, 
 Goethe, and Heine. There are glances at the 
 comedy of Spain and the Orient, quotations 
 from Swift and Voltaire, an appraisal of the 
 humor of BjTon and Carlyle. But we need 
 not exhaust the list provided by the Index. 
 Is there another equally inclusive (we must 
 not say exhaustive) treatment of the subject 
 in existence.^ Certainly there is no other
 
 INTRODUCTION 17 
 
 from the hand of an author who liimself suc- 
 ceeded as a creative artist. 
 
 It must be said that Meredith betrays no 
 distinct indebtedness to theoretical discus- 
 sions of comedy and laughter by scholars. 
 Perhaps son.e one will rejoin that this is just 
 as well — though we could wish him more 
 familiar, if he is familiar at all, with the 
 Symposium of Plato, and the commentators 
 thereon. On the other hand, he has read dis- 
 cussions by literary men, including Hazlitt 
 and Leigh Hunt, and Lamb, on the comedy of 
 the Restoration; and he owes a considerable 
 debt to modem French literary critics, for 
 instance, Sainte-Beuve, as a source of in- 
 formation on special topics. He has used 
 Littre on Aristophanes and Rabelais to ad- 
 vantage, and likewise Saint-Marc Girardin, 
 and current periodicals like the Journal des 
 Debats. But his Uterary judgments do not 
 depend upon the opinions of others; in the 
 mam they rest upon his own individual ex- 
 amination of masterpieces. If he has a bias 
 in favor of Moliere, one of the greatest of the 
 great, who can complain.' Such a bias is 
 preferable to colorless impartiality, which 
 never has been the quality of a first-rate 
 critic.
 
 18 THE IDEA OF COMEDY 
 
 But breadth of view and independence of 
 judgment are not the only merits of the Essay. 
 Possibly its chief value lies in the stimulus 
 arising from these and other qualities, such as 
 allusiveness and vivacity of style, drawing 
 and urging the student to fill up gaps in his 
 own reading. Again, by insisting upon the 
 need of ideal relations between men and 
 women if comedy is to prosper, and by in- 
 dicating the social conditions in which a 
 Moliere may flourish, the Essay itself induces 
 in us a mood and way of thinking that assist 
 the appreciation of comic writers when we 
 turn from it to them. Finally, it renders an 
 undoubted service in laying stress upon the 
 emotional or mental effect of a comedy as 
 the criterion by which the comedy is to be 
 judged. 
 
 This last point is one of the utmost im- 
 portance. For Meredith, comedy must 
 ; awaken 'thoughtful laughter'; its end is 'to 
 '\ touch and kindle the mind through laughter,' 
 / or 'to shake and elevate the feelings.' For 
 I him, then, the pleasure afforded by the comic 
 i writer is primarily intellectual, and only sec- 
 ^ ondarily emotional. Meredith may be wholly 
 right in this, or he may be right in a measure. 
 He has not gone far toward analyzing the
 
 INTRODUCTION 19 
 
 pleasure we obtain from Rabelais or Aris- 
 tophanes. But for the type of comedy that 
 interests him he goes straight to the point 
 where the investigation should begin, the 
 point where Aristotle begins in his discussion 
 of tragedy. That is, he asks: What is the 
 proper effect of a given literary type upon 
 the spectator or reader? Having answered 
 this question for 'literary comedy' in a way 
 that satisfies him, he proceeds to scrutinize 
 the means by which the desired effect has 
 been attained or missed in reputable com- 
 edies. To some, liis answer regarding the end 
 may seem final, and his examination of the 
 means too casual and saltatory, leaping back 
 and forth without much progress, or no prog- 
 ress save through variety of illustration. 
 But, with the instinct of genius, he does lay 
 stress upon ends, and not, like a formalist, 
 upon means; he reaches a point in his search 
 from which others may conceivably proceed 
 further; and he indicates the path of advance 
 for the study of this or any other literary type.
 
 20 THE IDEA OF COMEDY 
 
 III. STRUCTURE AND STYLE OF 
 THE ESSAY 
 
 * I never outline my novels before starting on 
 them,' said Meredith to Clodd.^ Would that 
 he had early formed the habit of constructing 
 a plan in advance for everything he wrote. 
 The Essay on Comedy does not clearly follow 
 a predetermined order, and therefore wants 
 the lucidity to be found, let us say, in an 
 essay by Matthew Arnold, where the march 
 of the whole is settled from the beginning, 
 together with the divisions and articulations 
 of the parts, down to the separate para- 
 graphs, and sometimes to individual sen- 
 tences. In this essay of Meredith the breadth 
 and comprehensiveness we have noted are 
 pervasive qualities due to instinct rather than 
 art, and there is some lack of precision in the 
 order and in matters of detail. A formal 
 scheme by parts and subdivisions may, in- 
 deed, be extracted from the Essay by force 
 j^ (see pp. 45-70). From this scheme we may 
 infer that certain main ideas, and a tone or 
 mood of mind, and some attention to chrono- 
 logical sequence, govern the whole, and that 
 the law of association, and chance suggestion, 
 
 ' Clodd, p. 24.
 
 INTRODUCTION 21 
 
 rule in the development of paragraphs and 
 sentences. 
 
 Conscious art is shown in smaller details. 
 Meredith consciously aims at apt illustrations 
 and striking figures, at compression, and at 
 novel and felicitous collocations in diction. 
 On occasion he amplifies profusely, still giv- 
 ing the impression of brevity by the use of 
 asyndeton. He also shows a tendency to ex- 
 press himself in general terms; not that he 
 avoids concreteness, but that he omits or 
 conceals the local and particular. Thus he 
 alters 'an eminent Frenchman, M. Littre,' 
 to 'an eminent Frenchman.' Or he speaks of 
 'the light of Athene over the head of Achilles' 
 without reminding us that the source of his 
 figure is the Hiad. Or again, he writes a page 
 and a half on two comedies of Augier with- 
 out naming either them or their author. His 
 style may therefore be described as general 
 and allusive. He had a long and powerful, 
 but not always exact, memory, which he 
 trusted, with the result that it sometimes 
 played him false. The ornaments of his 
 style, then, are in no small measure freely 
 drawn from liis wide and discursive reading — 
 from Shakespeare, Pascal, Goethe, Swift, and 
 the like. So far as I have observed, he owes
 
 «2 THE IDEA OF COMEDY 
 
 Kttle tx> the diction of the Bible; at least, in 
 comparison with Ruskin or Carlyle, his debt 
 is negligible. 
 
 In part he draws liis embellisliments from 
 external nature, and although this source is 
 less evident in the Essay on Comedy, I can not 
 forbear to illustrate the point by a quotation 
 from Lord Morley:* 
 
 'Nobody in prose, and I almost dare to 
 say nobody in verse, has surpassed Meredith 
 in precision of eye and color and force of 
 words for landscape, from great masterpieces 
 like the opening pages of Vittoria, or the night 
 on the Adriatic in Beauchamp, down to the 
 thousand vignettes, miniatures, touches, that 
 in all hLs work bring the air, clouds, winds, 
 trees, light, storm, with magic truth and fasci- 
 nation for background and illumination to his 
 stage. He lived at every hour of day and 
 night with all the sounds and shades of nature 
 open to his sensitive perception. These di- 
 vine and clianging effects were not only poetry 
 to him, nor scenery; what Wordsworth calls 
 the "business of the elements" was an es- 
 sence of his life. To love this deep compan- 
 ionship of the large refreshing natural world 
 brought unspeakable fulness of being to him, 
 
 • Morley 1. 38-39.
 
 INTRODUCTION 23 
 
 as it was one of his most priceless lessons to 
 men of disposition more prosaic than his 
 own.* 
 
 In the entire world of letters two men stand 
 out pre-eminently for Meredith: Goethe, the 
 sage, well-rounded man, and Moliere, the 
 comic poet. But in point of style he has fol- 
 lowed neither. The natural clarity, ease, and 
 emphasis of Goethe, who always writes pure 
 and clear German, and who, if he ever be- 
 comes diflBcult to understand, does so, not 
 because of obscurity in the medium he em- 
 ploys, but when his subject itself taxes our 
 powers of thought— these are not the prop- 
 erty of Meredith. Nor is the lucidity of 
 Moliere his, either — that lucidity, combined 
 with distinction, which is characteristic of 
 Menander, Terence, and their following, down 
 to Congreve and Sheridan and French com- 
 edy of the present day. Highly as he may 
 praise it, the manner is not in his possession. 
 If, as Lord Morley says, Meredith inherited 
 something in the way of thought and expres- 
 sion from Peacock, he is also a debtor to Jean 
 Paul, and therefore not without points of 
 similarity to Carlyle. In the end he carried 
 the use of compression, and of hints, oblique 
 indications, symbolical gesture, and indirec-
 
 24 THE IDEA OF COMEDY 
 
 tion, to an excess, desiring the reader to find 
 too much between the words and lines in 
 proportion to what the words and sentences 
 directly offer. Doubtless the truly pregnant 
 writer — for example, Pascal — gives with a few 
 phrases far more thought than at first sight 
 they seem to contain ; but even at first glance 
 the utterances of Pascal contain much. 
 Such is not always the case with Meredith. 
 On this head we can not do better than consult 
 Lord Morley, a lifelong friend of the novelist, 
 and a judge who will not be suspected of cold 
 impartiality or disdain:^ 
 
 *In spite of his protest and remonstrance, 
 I could not always deny that I found a page 
 or a chapter in a novel obscure and beyond 
 my understanding — some riddle of elabo- 
 rated motive, or coil of incident, or dazzling 
 tennis-play of dialogue. It is of no avail 
 for any writer to contend that he is not ob- 
 scure. If the world, with every reason for 
 the most benevolent will possible, and sin- 
 cerest effort, still find liim obscure, then for 
 his audience obscure he stands. If the charge 
 is largely made, is not the verdict already as 
 good as found? If the gathering in a great 
 hall make signs that they cannot hear me, 
 
 1 Morley 1. 40.
 
 INTRODUCTION 25 
 
 it is idle for me to persist that my voice is 
 perfectly audible. The truth is that Meredith 
 often missed ease. Yet ease in words and 
 artistic form has been a mark of more than 
 one of his contemporaries, who amid the 
 world's riddles saw deepest and felt warm- 
 est.' 
 
 These strictures, however, touch the Essay 
 on Comedy only in an incidental way when 
 Meredith's allusions are explained as I hope 
 I have explained them in the Notes. But 
 the Essay possibly marks the turning-point 
 from his earlier to his later style. The Ego- 
 ist, published two years later (1879), is in 
 some sense an outgrowth of the Essay, serv- y 
 ing to illustrate tlie theory of comedy he had 
 enounced; and The Egoist is open to the charge 
 of fastidiousness of diction, undue compres- 
 sion of language, and inattention to the prob- 
 able difficulties of the reader. After 1891 
 these qualities became accentuated in nearly 
 all that he wrote.
 
 26 THE IDEA OF COMEDY 
 
 IV. REFERENCES TO THE ESSAY 
 
 Mere<iith's lecture, as we have seen,^ wa* 
 delivered on February 1, 1877. Apparently 
 he had been at work on it as early as Novem- 
 l)er 3, 1876, for he writes on that day to Miss 
 Alice Brandreth : ^ 
 
 'And besides I am very busy, and shall get 
 no work done for next year if I cease to lash 
 myself; and I am disturbed about my lec- 
 ture, and doubt if it will please.' 
 
 According to M. Photiades, the attendance 
 at the lecture was good,^ for he mentions 
 'the company which assembled in large num- 
 bers at the London Institution on the first of 
 February, 1877.' 
 
 On a Saturday following (probably Febru- 
 ary 3) Meredith wrote to Morley : * 
 
 'One line. All went well. Morison in one 
 of his enthusiasms, which make one remem- 
 ber that one has word praise. Audience very 
 attentive and indulgent. Time 1 h. 25 m., 
 and no one left the hall, so that I may imag- 
 ine there was interest in the lecture. Pace 
 moderate; but Morison thinks I was in- 
 
 ' See p. 7, and compare pp. 171-174. ^ Lettert 1. 269. 
 
 'Photiades, George Meredith, 1913, p. 52. 
 *LeUer3 1. 270-971.
 
 INTRODUCTION 27 
 
 telligible chiefly by the distinctness of ar- 
 ticulation.' i 
 
 The lecture was then printed, 'with amend- 
 ments,' ^ in the New Qxiarterly Magazine for 
 April, 1877 (vol. 8, pp. 1-40). The April 
 number of this magazine appeared early, for 
 on March 31 Meredith wrote to Morley: * 
 
 'The article on Comedy is out — cursed 
 with misprints that make me dance gadfly- 
 bitten.' 
 
 On April 4 he wrote again to Morlej' to 
 the same effect: ' 
 
 'There are horrid errors in the printing of 
 the " Comic "^ — some, I am afraid, attributa- 
 ble to me. I am the worst of correctors of my 
 own writing.' ■* 
 
 That the lecture differed in certain respe<*ts 
 from the Essay as we have it in the Neio 
 Quarterly Magazine may be seen at a glance 
 in the following report of the lecture in the 
 London Times. 
 
 ' See the article on Meredith, bj- Thomas Seccombe, in the 
 Diet. Nat. Biog., Second Supplement. 
 
 ^Letters 1. 272. 
 
 'Letters 1. 874. 
 
 * A proof of the article for the New Quarterly Magazine, 'with 
 the author's corrections,' was subsequently presented by Mis* 
 J. L. Benecke to the British Museum, where it still remaius; 
 see The Works of George Meredith, vol. 36, p. 313 (Londoii, 1911).
 
 28 THE IDEA OF COMEDY 
 
 V. EXTRACT FROM THE TIMES 
 
 (London, February 5, 1877 ') 
 
 COMEDY 
 
 On Thursday afternoon an interesting lec- 
 ture was delivered at the London Institution 
 by Mr. George Meredith on The Idea of 
 Comedy. There was a numerous and appreci- 
 ative audience. What he offered, he said, 
 was meant as an introduction to the study of 
 comedy, dwelling especially on the uses of 
 the comic spirit, which he defined as the 
 genius of thoughtful laughter. Perhaps a 
 chapter on farces might be more entertaining, 
 but what he was to treat of was quite dis- 
 tinct from farce. There were men whom 
 Rabelais v/ould call 'agelasts,' or non- 
 laughers, whom we should, perhaps, style 
 Puritans, and at the other extreme were the 
 hypergelasts, or Bacchanalians — ever-laugh- 
 ing men. Neither of the two classes would 
 relish The Rape of the Lock or the Tartvffe. 
 The Bacchanalians can not understand our 
 speaking seriously of comedy, and the Puri- 
 tans deem it immoral to do so. Our Eng- 
 lish Comedy of Manners under the Merry 
 
 1 P. 4, col. 5.
 
 INTRODUCTION 29 
 
 IMonarch was Bacchanalian beyond the Aris- 
 tophanic example. In the middle path 
 only, between the Puritans and the mindless 
 roisterers, who would both smother a good 
 thing, should we walk safely. Our English 
 idea of a comedy of manners might be imaged 
 in a blowsy country Hoyden putting on 
 the city madam, with all her native rawness 
 peering through the French polish. If we 
 believe that idle, meaningless, unwise laugh- 
 ter is the best of recreations, significant com- 
 edy, which calls forth thoughtful laughter 
 and makes us better men and women, will 
 seem pale and shallow in comparison. In 
 that Caroline age female modesty was pro- 
 tected at the play by a fan. That fan was 
 the flag of the epoch which gave, in the so- 
 called Comedy of Manners, a comedy of 
 Samoeide manners under city veneer, and was 
 as empty of the comic idea as the mask with- 
 out the face behind it. It was not public 
 caprice, as Elia seems to have thought, but 
 a bettering state of things, when the fan with 
 the eyelet-hole was pitched away. That fan 
 brained the Wycherley school of comedy. A 
 like fate, though from the other side of the 
 house, befell the heavy and tearful drama 
 with the moral kicked to it, like a rod fright-
 
 30 THE IDEA OF COMEDY 
 
 fuller than that wielded in the puplit. Save 
 Congreve's Way of the World there was 
 neither portraiture nor much quotable fun, 
 neither salt nor soul, and it died. Mr. 
 Meredith next spoke of the French school of 
 stately comedy, to which, as Jolm Stuart 
 Mill said, that nation owes its better knowl- 
 edge of men and women. Moliere followed 
 Horace, and marked the manners of his age, 
 but without raw, realistic painting. He 
 etherealized his characters. Our English 
 school has not clearly imagined society. 
 True, we have good literary comedies, pleas- 
 ant to read, and now and then to see acted. 
 They were chiefly drawn from the Greek 
 Menander through the Roman Terence. 
 Shakesj^eare is a well-spring of characters 
 saturated with the comic spirit, with more 
 blood-life than was to be found anywhere else. 
 They are of this world, too, but of this world 
 enlarged to our embrace by great poetic 
 imagination. They are creatures of the 
 wootls and wilds, not grouped and toned to 
 pursue a comic exhibition of the narrower 
 world of society. Had he lived in a less 
 heroical and later period, he might have 
 turned to the painting of manners as well as 
 of man. The crowding of the French nobles
 
 INTRODUCTION 31 
 
 to the Court of Louis XIV was politically 
 a misfortune, but it was a boon to the 
 comic poet. It was then shown how Moliere 
 availed himself of the opportunity; and there 
 followed critical appreciation of his greatest 
 plays, especially the Tartuffe, Les Femmes 
 Savantes, and the Misanthrope. Moliere was 
 in modern times what Menander was to the 
 Greek and Roman world — ^the prince of comic 
 poets. M. Sainte-Beuve conjures up the 
 ghost of Menander, saying: 'For the love of 
 me love Terence.' Moliere, like Menander, 
 idealized upon life. The foundation of t heir 
 types is real and in the quick, but th ey 
 painted with a spiritual strength, which is 
 the soUd in art. This idealistic conception of 
 comedy giveTbreadth and opportunities of 
 daring to comic genius — an assertion of which 
 abundance of illustrations were given. Ital- 
 ian comedy gave many hints for a Tartuffe, 
 but they were already found in Boccaccio, as 
 well as in Machiavelli. Spanish comedy was 
 next glanced at; but further East there was a 
 total silence of the comic Muse, although the 
 Arabs were intensely susceptible to the comic, 
 witness the Arabian Nights. There had been 
 plenty of fun in Bagdad, but there would 
 never be civilization there until comedy was
 
 32 THE IDEA OF COMEDY 
 
 possible in that city, which the Oriental se- 
 clusion of females seemed to forbid any hope 
 of for a long time to come. Speaking gener- 
 ally, the English were most in sympathy with 
 the primitive Aristophanic comedy, in which 
 the comic is capped by the grotesque, irony 
 tips the wit, and satire is a naked sword. The 
 English excel in satire, and are racy humor- 
 ists; they like hard-hitting with a moral aim 
 behind it. But the Comic Spirit was differ- 
 ent from both humor and satire. Our capac- 
 ity fo r comic perception might be gauged by 
 our ability to detect the ridicule of those we 
 
 lov e without loving them less, and to wel- 
 come the hint. T he comic was the govern- 
 ing spirit which awakens and barbs with an 
 aim the powers of laughter, but it is not to be 
 confounded with them. Mr. Meredith illus- 
 trated the distinctness of comedy from satire 
 and humor by reference to Fielding's Jona- 
 than Wild, whose grumbling at the unfair- 
 ness of his conviction by twelve men of the 
 opposite party was neither humor nor satire, 
 but was intensely comic. Byron had great 
 powers of satire and humor, fused at times 
 to irony, but he took an anti-social position, 
 directly opposed to the comic. 'When he 
 begins to philosophize,' said Goethe of him,
 
 INTRODUCTION 33 
 
 *he is a child.' One excellent test, the lec- 
 turer said, of the civilization of a country 
 was the flourishing of comedy, and the test 
 of a true comedy is its calling up thoughtful 
 laughter. If we believed (as every sane man 
 must) our culture to be founded on common 
 sense, we could not help feeling sure that the 
 big round satyr's guffaw of olden times would 
 come again, but in the finely-tempered smile, 
 or silvery laughter, of the Comic Spirit. That 
 Spirit is not hostile to the poetic, witness 
 Chaucer, Shakespeare, and the Covins of 
 Milton. Sensitiveness to the laugh is a step 
 in civilization; so is shrinking from laughter. 
 Audience and poet became better through the 
 lessons of comedy. How much ability was 
 now drifting with the tides in novel-writ- 
 ing, pun-hatching, and journalism ! Names 
 would occur to them of those who had the 
 power to produce good work in comedy. 
 Honorable mention followed of the late Mr. 
 Robertson, Mr. Tom Taylor, Mr. Gilbert, 
 and Mr. Burnand. The blame for the low 
 state of comedy among us lay, not with au- 
 thors, but with the public.
 
 34 THE IDEA OF COMEDY 
 
 VI. MEREDITH'S PRELUDE » TO 
 THE EGOIST 
 
 Comedy is a game played to throw reflec- 
 tions upon social life, and it deals with human 
 nature in the drawing-room of civilized men 
 and women, where we have no dust of the 
 struggling outer world, no mire, no violent 
 crashes, to make the correctness of the rep- 
 resentation convincing. Credulity is not 
 wooed through the impressionable senses; nor 
 have we recourse to the small circular glow of 
 the watchmaker's eye to raise in bright re- 
 lief minutest grains of evidence for the rout- 
 ing of incredulity. The Comic Spirit con- 
 ceives a definite situation for a number of 
 characters, and rejects all accessories in the 
 exclusive pursuit of them and their speech. 
 For, being a spirit, he hunts the spirit in 
 men; vision and ardor constitute his merit: 
 he has not a thought of persuading you to 
 believe in him. Follow and you will see. 
 But there is a question of the value of a run 
 at his heels. 
 
 Now the world is possessed of a certain big 
 
 ' 'A Chapter of Which the Last Page Only is of Any Im- 
 portance' — Meredith'8 arguraent at the bead of the chapter. 
 The Egoint was published in 1879.
 
 INTRODUCTION 35 
 
 book, the biggest book on earth; that might 
 indeed be called the Book of Earth; whose 
 title is the Book of Egoism, and it is a book 
 full of the world's wisdom. So full of it, and 
 of such dimensions, is this book, in which the 
 generations have written ever since they took 
 to writing, that to be profitable to us the 
 Book needs a powerful compression. 
 
 Who, says the notable humorist, in allusion 
 to this Book — who can studiously ti-avel 
 through sheets of leaves now capable of a 
 stretch from the Lizard to the last few poor 
 pulmonary snips and shreds of leagues danc- 
 ing on their toes for cold, explorers tell us, 
 and catching breath by good luck, like dogs 
 at bones about a table, on the e<lge of the 
 Pole.'* Inordinate unvaried length, sheer 
 longinquity, staggers the heart, ages the very 
 heart of us at a view. And how if we manage 
 finally to print one of our pages on the crow- 
 scalp of that solitary majestic outsider ? We 
 may with effort get even him into the Book; 
 yet the knowledge we want will not be more 
 present with us than it was when the chap- 
 ters hung their end over the cliff you ken of 
 at Dover, where sits our great lord and master 
 contemplating the seas without upon the re- 
 flex of that within !
 
 36 THE IDEA OF COMEDY 
 
 In other words, as I venture to translate 
 him (humorists are difficult: it is a piece of 
 their humor to puzzle our wits), the inward 
 mirror, the embracing and condensing spirit, 
 is required to give us those interminable mile- 
 post piles of matter (extending well-nigh to 
 the very Pole) in essence, in chosen samples, 
 digestibly. I conceive him to indicate that 
 the realistic method of a conscientious tran- 
 scription of all the visible, and a repetition 
 of all the audible, is mainly accountable for 
 our present branfulness, and for that pro- 
 longation of the vasty and the noisy, out of 
 which, as from an undrained fen, steams the 
 malady of sameness, our modern malady. 
 We have the malady, whatever may be the 
 cure or the cause. We drove in a body to 
 Science the other day for an antidote; which 
 was as if tired pedestrians should mount the 
 engine-box of headlong trains; and Science 
 introduced us to our o'er-hoary ancestry — 
 them in the Oriental posture. Whereupon 
 we set up a primeval chattering to rival the 
 Amazon forest nigh nightfall, cured, we 
 fancied. And before daybreak our disease 
 was hanging on to us again, with the exten- 
 sion of a tail. We had it fore and aft. We 
 were the same, and animals into the bargain. 
 That is all we got from Science.
 
 INTRODUCTION 37 
 
 Art is the specific. We have Uttle to learn 
 of apes, and they may be left. The chief 
 consideration for us is, what particular prac- 
 tice of Art in letters is the best for the perusal 
 of the Book of our common wisdom; so that 
 with clearer minds and livelier manners we 
 may escape, as it were, into daylight and song 
 from a land of fog-horns. Shall we read it 
 by the watchmaker's eye in luminous rings 
 eruptive of the infinitesimal, or pointed with 
 examples and types under the broad Alpine 
 survey of the spirit born of our united social 
 intelligence, which is the Comic Spirit ? 
 Wise men say the latter. The}' tell us that 
 there is a constant tendency in the Look to 
 accumulate excess of substance, and such 
 repleteness, obscuring the glass it holds to 
 mankind, renders us inexact in the recog- 
 nition of our individual countenances — a 
 perilous thing for civilization. And these 
 wise men are strong in their opinion that we 
 should encourage the Comic Spirit, who is, 
 after all, our own offspring, to relieve the 
 Book. Comedy, they say, is the true diver- 
 sion, as it is likewise the key of the great Book, 
 the music of the Book. They tell us how it 
 condenses whole sections of the Book in a 
 sentence, volumes in a character; so that a 
 fair part of a book, outstripping thousands of
 
 38 THE IDEA OF COMEDY 
 
 leagues when unrolled, may be compassed in 
 one comic sitting. 
 
 For verily, say they, we must read what 
 we can of it — at least the page before us — if 
 we would be men. One, with an index on 
 the Book, cries out, in a style pardonable to 
 his fervency: The remedy of your frightful 
 affliction is here, tlu-ough the stillatory of 
 Comedy, and not in Science, nor yet in 
 Speed, whose name is but another for vorac- 
 ity. Why, to be alive, to be quick in the 
 soul, there should be diversity in the com- 
 panion-throbs of your pulses. Interrogate 
 them. They lump along like the old lob- 
 legs of Dobbin the horse; or do their business 
 like cudgels of carpet-thwackers expelling 
 dust, or the cottage-clock pendulum teaching 
 the infant hour over midnight simple arith- 
 metic. This, too, in spite of Bacchus. And 
 let them gallop; let them gallop with the God 
 bestriding them, gallop to Hymen, gallop to 
 Hades, tliey strike the same note. Mon- 
 strous monotonousness has enfolded us as 
 with the arms of Amphi trite ! We hear a 
 shout of war for a diversion. Comedy he 
 pronounces to be our means of reading swiftly 
 and comprehensively. She it is who proposes 
 the correcting of pretentiousness, of inflation.
 
 INTRODUCTION 39 
 
 of dulness, and of the vestiges of rawness and 
 grossness to be found among us. She is the 
 ultimate civnlizer, the poHsher, a sweet cook. 
 If, he says, she watches over sentimcntaHsm 
 with a birch-rod, she is not opposed to ro- 
 mance. You may love, and warmly love, so 
 long as you are honest. Do not offend rea- 
 son. A lover pretending too much, by one 
 foot's length of pretence, will have that foot 
 caught in her trap. In comedy is the singular 
 scene of charity issuing of disdain under the 
 stroke of honorable laughter; an Ariel re- 
 leased by Prospero's wand from the fetters 
 of the damned witch Sycorax. And this 
 laughter of reason refreshed is floriferous, 
 like the magical great gale of the shifty 
 spring deciding for summer. You hear it 
 giving the delicate spirit his liberty. Listen, 
 for comparison, to an unleavened society: a 
 low as of the udderful cow past milking hour ! 
 O for a titled ecclesiastic to curse to excom- 
 munication that unholy thing! So far an 
 enthusiast perhaps; but he should have a 
 
 hearing. 
 
 Concerning pathos, no ship can now set 
 sail without pathos; and we are not totally 
 deficient of pathos; whch is, I do not accur- 
 ately know what, if not the ballast, reducible
 
 40 THE IDEA OF COMEDY 
 
 to moisture by patent process, on board our 
 modern vessel; for it can hardly be the cargo, 
 and the general water-supply has other uses; 
 and ships well charged with it seem to sail 
 the stiffest — there is a touch of pathos. The 
 Egoist surely inspires pity. He who would 
 desire to clothe himself at everybody's ex- 
 pense, and is of that desire condemned to 
 strip himself stark naked — he, if pathos ever 
 had a form, might be taken for the actual 
 person. Only, he is not allowed to rush at 
 you, roll you over, and squeeze your body for 
 the briny drops. There is the innovation. 
 
 You may as well know him, out of hand, as 
 a gentleman of our time and country, of 
 wealth and station; a not flexile figure, do 
 what we may with him; the humor of whom 
 scarcely dimples the surface, and is distin- 
 guishable but by very penetrative, very 
 wicked imps, whose fits of roaring below at 
 some generally imperceptible stroke of his 
 quality have first made the mild literary 
 angels aware of something comic in him, when 
 they were one and all about to describe the 
 gentleman on the heading of the records 
 baldly (where brevity is most complimentary) 
 as a gentleman of family and property, an 
 idol of a decorous island that admires the
 
 INTRODUCTION 41 
 
 concrete. Imps have their freakish wicked- 
 ness in them to kindle detective vision; ma- 
 Hgnly do they love to uncover ridiculousness 
 in imposing figures. Wherever they catch 
 sight of Egoism they pitch their camps, they 
 circle and squat, and forthwith they trim 
 their lanterns, confident of the ludicrous to 
 come; so confident, that their grip of an Eng- 
 lish gentleman, in whom they have spied 
 their game, never relaxes until he begins in- 
 sensibly to frolic and antic, unknown to him- 
 self, and comes out in the native steam wliich 
 is their scent of the chase. Instantly off they 
 scour, Egoist and imps. They will, it is 
 known of them, dog a great House for cen- 
 turies, and be at the birth of all the new heirs 
 in succession, diligently taking confirmatory 
 notes, to join hands and chime their chorus 
 in one of their merry rings round the totter- 
 ing pillar of the House, when his turn ar- 
 rives; as if they had (possibly they had) 
 smelt of old date a doomed colossus of Ego- 
 ism in that unborn, unconceived inheritor of 
 the stuff of the family. They dare net be 
 chuckling while Egoism is valiant, while 
 sober, while socially valuable, nationally 
 serviceable. They wait. 
 
 Aforetime a grand old Egoism built the
 
 42 THE IDEA OF COMEDY 
 
 House. It would appear that ever-finer es- 
 sences of it are demanded to sustain the 
 structure; but especially would it appear 
 that a reversion to the gross original, be- 
 neath a mask, and in a vein of fineness, is an 
 earthquake at the foundations of the House. 
 Better that it should not have consented to 
 motion, and have held stubbornly to all an- 
 cestral ways, than have bred that ana- 
 chronic spectre. The sight, however, is one 
 to make our squatting imps in circle grow 
 restless on their haunches, as they bend eyes 
 instantly, ears at full cock, for the commence- 
 ment of the comic drama of the suicide. If 
 this line of verse be not yet in our literature — 
 
 Through very love of self himself he slew — 
 let it be admitted for his epitaph.
 
 ANALYSIS OF THE ESSAY
 
 ANALYSIS OF THE ESSAY 
 
 PART I. THE IDEA OF COMEDY 
 
 I. Introduction. Good comedies rare in 
 
 English literature, though the comic 
 element abounds. 75 1-9. 
 
 II. The comic poet an infrequent apparition. 
 
 75 10-80 8. 
 
 A. He needs a cultivated society. 75 10- 
 
 76 2. 
 
 B. Both he and his audience must pos- 
 
 sess a subtle delicacy. 76 3-20. 
 
 C. He is beset with special foes. 76 21- 
 
 80 8. 
 
 1. 'Agelasts' — that is, non-laughers, 
 
 or Puritans. 76 24-77 8. 
 
 2. ' Hypergelasts ' — that is, excessive 
 
 laughers, or Bacchanalians. 77 
 9-19. 
 a. Contention between these two 
 parties. 77 20-79 28. 
 i. Bacchanalian origin of 
 Greek comedy. 78 8- 
 79 10.
 
 46 THE IDEA O^ COMEDY 
 
 a. Puritan objection to Res- 
 toration comedy. 79 10- 
 28. 
 b. The right position midway be- 
 tween the extremes. 80 1-8. 
 3. Sentimentalists. [See IV, B.] 
 III. English comedy in general — the Com- 
 edy of Manners. 80 9-88 19. 
 
 A. A tj-pical comedy. 80 9-82 16. 
 
 1. Sketch of the plot. 80 9-81 8. 
 
 2. The heroine's wit as indicating 
 
 popular taste. 81 9-82 16. 
 
 B. Pervading coarseness, and lack of 
 
 comic idea. 82 17-83 9. 
 
 C. Decline of the Comedy of Manners. 
 
 83 10-84 27. 
 
 1. Lamb laments its extinction. 
 
 83 10-17. 
 
 2. But the stock villains, dotards, 
 
 and flirts are best forgotten. 
 
 83 17-84 8. 
 
 3. Distaste for realism consequent 
 
 on a bettering state of society. 
 
 84 9-27. 
 
 D. English comedy contrasted with 
 
 French. 84 28-87 15. 
 1. Difference in aim — distinction be-
 
 ANALYSIS 47 
 
 tween ce qui remue and cc qui 
 ^rnevt. 84 28-85 10. 
 
 2. Difference in method — French 
 
 generalization as against Eng- 
 lish realism. 85 11-86 5. 
 
 a. Moliere follows Horatian prin- 
 
 ciples in drawing character. 
 
 85 17-20. 
 
 b. French perception of the gen- 
 
 eral, above the individual, 
 in human nature. 85 20- 
 
 86 5. -^ 
 
 3. The reason for these differences — \ 
 
 English lack of genuine comic 
 perception. 86 6-87 15. / 
 
 a. Not a lack of dramatic or 
 
 poetic talent. 86 14-26. 
 
 b. Jon son, Massinger, and Fletch- 
 
 er incomplete comic poets. 
 86 26-87 15. 
 E. Shakespeare the great exception. 
 87 16-88 19. 
 
 1. His characters saturates! with the^ 
 
 comic spirit; real, but ideal- 
 ized. 87 16-88 5. 
 
 2. His kinship with Menander. 88 / 
 
 6-19.
 
 48 THE IDEA OF COMEDY 
 
 IV. Relation of comedy to society. 88 20- 
 97 14. 
 
 A. Career of Moliere as an example. 
 
 88 20-91 2. 
 
 1. He was stimulated by the bril- 
 
 liant Court of Louis XIV. 88 
 20-89 8. 
 
 2. But his success was really due to 
 
 the quick-witted bourgeoisie of 
 Paris. 89 9-26. 
 
 3. In several plays he aims to cor- 
 
 rect the foibles of society. 89 
 27-90 20. 
 
 a. Les PrScienses Ridicules de- 
 
 rided the popular romantic 
 jargon. 90 1-4. 
 
 b. Les Femmes Savantes was di- 
 
 rected against purism in 
 language. 90 4-13. 
 
 c. Le Misanthrope displayed the 
 
 opposition of Alceste and 
 Celimene. 90 14-20. 
 
 4. Cultivated men and women of the 
 
 middle class the best critics. 
 Moliere is their poet. 90 20- 
 91 2. 
 
 B. Comedy and tlie sentimentalists
 
 ANALYSIS 49 
 
 [the third foe of the comic poet; 
 see II, C]. 91 3-92 4. 
 
 1. Sentimentalists in England large- 
 
 ly drawn from the cultivated 
 classes. 91 3-6. 
 
 2. Characteristics. 91 G-24. 
 
 a. Disdain of the actual world. 
 
 91 6-11. 
 
 b. Propensity to moralizing. 91 
 
 11-16. 
 
 c. Dread of the leveling effect of 
 
 comedy. 91 16-24. 
 
 3. Composition: chiefly women, dis- 
 
 tinguished by two exclama- 
 tions. 91 25-92 4. 
 C. Comedy and women. 92 5-94 8. 
 1. Comedy influential in placing 
 women on an equahty with 
 men. 92 5-94 2. 
 
 a. It shows women's wit on the 
 
 side of sound sense, e. g., 
 Dorine, Celimene, Milla- ' J 
 mant. 92 11-26. 
 
 b. The objection that comic hero- 
 
 ines are heartless comes of 
 a false education in taste. 
 
 92 27-93 13. l 
 
 c. The comic poet shows women 7 
 
 ).
 
 u: 
 
 50 THE IDEA OF COMEDY 
 
 ) growing liker to men tlirough 
 contact with them. 93 14- 
 »4 2. 
 2. Summary: loss of a large audi- 
 ence through the sentimental- 
 ism of women. 94 3-8. 
 D. The effect upon society of bad tra- 
 ditions in comedy. 94 &-96 5. 
 
 1. The Plain Dealer typical of Eng- 
 lish taste. 94 11-19. 
 
 2. Bad traditions a handicap to 
 writers; e. g.. Goldsmith and 
 Fielding. 94 19-27. 
 
 3. Bad traditions an evil in social 
 life. 94 28-95 2. 
 
 4. Bad traditions cause monotony in 
 literature. 95 3-96 5. 
 
 a. Use of stock images; e. g., 
 'Life as a comedy.' 95 3-18. 
 h. Recurrence of outworn situa- 
 tions. 95 18-96 5. 
 'Life as a comedy.' 96 5-97 14. 
 
 1. In view of English comedy, a 
 cynical phrase. 96 5-10. 
 
 2. Judged by Moliere's comedy, a, 
 just observation. 96 11-97 14. 
 
 a. His plays never vulgar, be- 
 
 c-
 
 ANALYSIS 51 
 
 cause deeply conceived. 96 
 14-19. 
 
 b. His characters designed to lash 
 
 themselves. 96 19-27. 
 
 c. His excellent technique height- 
 
 ens the effect of his teaching. 
 96 27-97 14. 
 i. Style pure and simple. 96 
 
 27-97 1. 
 a. \Vit sound and pervasive. 
 
 97 1-7. 
 in. His moral the total effect 
 of an organic structure. 
 97 7-14. 
 V. Congreve and Moliere. 97 15-106 15. 
 A. The Way of the World, Congreve's 
 masterpiece. 97 15-101 8. 
 
 1. An exception among English com- 
 
 edies for. 97 15-98 18 
 a. Brilliancy of the writing. 97 17. ^ 
 h. The figure of Millamant. 97 18. ' 
 
 2. Its wit contrasted with that of 
 
 Moliere. 98 18-99 5. 
 
 a. Congreve's wit a Toledo blade. 
 
 98 19-23. 
 
 b. Moliere's wit a running brook \ 
 
 of healing prop>erties. 98 23- 
 
 99 o.
 
 52 THE IDEA OF COMEDY 
 
 c. Congreve lacking in real capac- 
 ity. 99 6-100 11. 
 i. Quotation from Landor on 
 
 wit. 99 6-12. 
 a. The wit of Congreve at best 
 superficial; e. g., a passage 
 from Tlie Way of the 
 World. 99 12-100 11. 
 Congreve's literary excellence. 100 
 
 12-101 8. 
 a. Force, correctness, alertness, 
 
 fluency. 100 12-18. 
 6. Proper style in dialogue; e. g., 
 Lady Wishfort. 100 18-101 8. 
 B. Millamant. 101 9-102 26. 
 
 1. An admirable heroine, evincing the 
 skill of the writer. 101 9-102 8. 
 
 a. Her personality clearly defined. 
 101 10-24. 
 i. Portrayed in all her speeches. 
 
 101 10-21. 
 ii. Summarized in Mirabell's 
 
 description. 101 22-24. 
 Examples of vivacious dialogue. 
 101 26-102 8. 
 
 2. Comparison with CeUmene. 102 
 9-26.
 
 ANALYSIS 53 
 
 5 
 
 a. More vivid, more bewitching. 
 
 102 9-13. 
 h. Less witty, less permanently 
 significant. 102 13-26. 
 C. Celimene. 102 26-106 15. 
 
 1. A woman of the world; clear-eyed 
 
 and honest. 102 26-103 4. 
 
 2. Her relation to Alceste. 103 4- 
 
 105 10. 
 a. She the active spirit; he only 
 passively comic. 103 16-23. 
 h. Not blind to the folly of his ex- 
 tremes. 103 23-104 14. 
 c. Contrasted with him. 104 15- 
 105 10. 
 i. Worldliness against un- 
 
 worldlmess. 104 15-23. 
 ii. Flexibility against intoler- 
 ance. 104 23-105 4. 
 in. Alceste a Jean Jacques of 
 the Court. 105 5-10. 
 
 3. Her solution of the 'comic ques- 
 
 tion' of the play. 105 10-106 2. 
 
 4. A knowledge of human nature 
 
 necessary to the appreciation 
 of Celimene and Le Misan- 
 thrope. 106 3-15. 
 VI. Meiiaiider. 106 16-112 11.
 
 54 THE IDEA OF COMEDY 
 
 A. Did he elevate the prevailing con- 
 
 ception of women ? 106 16-107 19, 
 
 1. Sketch of the lost Misogynes. 
 
 106 16-107 1. 
 
 2. Thais and the Andrians. 10710-15. 
 
 3. The restrictions upon comic poets 
 
 m portraying honest women. 
 
 107 15-19. 
 
 B. Relation of Terence to Menander. 
 
 107 20-110 15. 
 
 1. The four Terentian comedies de- 
 
 rived from Menander as the 
 chief source of our knowledge of 
 the Greek poet. 107 20-108 14. 
 Quotations in other writers 
 inadequate. 108 15-22. ' 
 Plutarch's comparison of Me- 
 nander and Aristophanes 
 one-sided. 109 4-11. 
 
 2. The fidelity of the Latin adapta- 
 tions conjectural. 10911-11010. 
 
 C. The ill fate of his writings. 110 16- 
 111 11. 
 
 1. Only a fraction represented in 
 Terence. 110 17-111 11. 
 Va. Manuscripts sent from Greece 
 
 tto Rome lost by sliipwreck. 
 110 27-111 2.
 
 ANALYSIS 55 
 
 D. His kinship with Moliere. Ill 12- 
 112 11. 
 
 1. The quintessence of the comic in 
 
 their writings. Ill 12-19. 
 
 2. The principal comic tj-pes trace- 
 
 able to them. Ill 19-112 7. 
 
 3. Their power due to the idealized 
 
 treatment of life. 112 7-11. 
 Vn. The idealistic conception of comedy. 
 112 12-115 10. 
 
 A. Necessary to the success of the 
 
 comic poet. 112 12-18. 
 
 1. It enlarges the scope of comedy, 
 
 112 12-14. 
 
 2. It helps to solve the difficulties it 
 
 creates. 112 14-18. 
 
 B. MoUere's Tartiiffe as an illustration. 
 
 112 18-115 10. 
 
 1. Comic sympathy overcomes un- 
 
 realities in the plot. 112 18- 
 
 113 11. 
 
 2. Artistic treatment heightens all 
 
 comic effects. 113 12-24. 
 
 3. Superiority over other ' Tartuff es ' 
 
 in literature. 113 25-115 10. 
 a. Machiavelli's Frate Timoteo 
 only an oily friar. 113 25- 
 114 8.
 
 56 THE IDEA OF COMEDY 
 
 Spanish impostors palpably 
 untrue to life, because the 
 status of women in Spain 
 I makes genuine comedy im- 
 
 V. possible. 114 16-115 10. 
 
 VIII. Relation of comedy to the status of 
 women. 115 11-119 7. 
 A. Comedy in Germany. 115 11- 
 116 23. 
 1. The comic element in several 
 ,„writers. 115 11-23. 
 a. Heine's image of his country 
 in the dancing of Atta 
 Troll. 115 11-13. 
 Lessing's failure in comedy. 
 
 115 13-19. 
 Jean Paul Richter's Sie- 
 henkas 2ind Lenette. 115 
 19-21. 
 ji. Goethe not without comic 
 
 perception. 115 21-23. 
 The psychology of the German 
 laugh. 115 24-116 23. 
 
 a. Infrequent, tending to coarse- 
 ness. 115 24-27. 
 
 b. Never a laugh of men and 
 women in concert. 115 
 27-116 3.
 
 ANALYSIS 57 
 
 c. The national sentimentalism"^ 
 
 makes spiritual laughter / 
 impossible. 116 3-15. > 
 
 d. Lumbersome nature of the 
 
 German comic spirit. I 
 116 5-18. ^ 
 
 3. The absence of comic dialogue, 
 due to the poor voice allowed 
 to women in domestic life. 
 116 18-21. 
 
 B. Comedy in the East. 11624-11810. 
 
 1. Total silence of worthy comedy. 
 
 116 24-117 (). 
 
 a. Arabs intensely susceptible to 
 
 laughter. 116 24-26. 
 
 b. But the coarseness of the ^, 
 
 comic spirit varies as the 
 method of treating women. : 
 116 27-117 6. J 
 
 2. Anecdote to illustrate the At:ab's 
 
 attitude to women. 117 7- 
 118 2. 
 
 3. Lack of comedy evinces an in- 
 
 complete civilization. 118 
 3-5. 
 
 C. Comedy partly dependent u|x>n 
 
 social equality of tlie sexes. 
 118 5-119 7.
 
 58 THE IDEA OF COMEDY 
 
 ' , . . A •-■ ,. - s V .^ 
 
 1. Women blind to, swell the ranks 
 
 of the sentimentalists. 118 
 10-12. 
 [See IV, B and C] 
 
 2. The condition of comedy a 
 
 register of the status of 
 women. 118 12-119 7. 
 ( a. No social freedom: no com- 
 edy. 118 13-15. 
 b. Some independence without 
 cultivation: melodrama 
 and sentimentalism. 118 
 17-19. 
 Some measure of equality: 
 pure comedy in life, if not 
 yet on the stage. 118 26- 
 119 7. 
 
 PART II. THE USES OF THE 
 COMIC SPIRIT 
 I. The comic as an auxiUar against folly. 
 119 8-122 17. 
 A. The defects in our methods against 
 folly. 119 15-121 21. 
 
 1. Common sense too irritable. 119 
 
 22-120 6. 
 
 2. Contempt a foolish weapon. 120 
 
 7-16.
 
 \ 
 
 \hvi 
 
 \ {.' 
 
 ANALYSIS 59 
 
 3. Defensive tactics slow and inef- 
 fective. 120 23-121 21. 
 a. Folly's conquests are made while ) 
 her foes prepare. 120 23- 
 121 2. 
 h. If ultimately overtlu-own, she 
 can boast great mischief done. ^ 
 121 2-18. 
 B. These defects due to the neglect of the 
 comic idea. 121 22-122 17. 
 
 1. England's need of great comic 
 
 writers such as Aristophanes, 
 Rabelais, Voltaire, Cervantes, 
 Fielding, Moliere. 121 22-28. 
 
 2. The comic as opposed to mere jok- 
 
 ing. 122 1-17. .c, ^/i''"^^-^" 
 a. The comic more subtle, ad- 
 dressed to the wits. 122 5-10. 
 i. The comic sense blunted by 
 punning, etc. 122 10-17. 
 II. The comic as a corrective of dulness. 
 122 18-126 11. 
 A. Anecdote to illustrate this function. 
 122 18-125 5. 
 
 1. The death of Due Pasquier at an 
 
 advanced age. 122 18-21. 
 
 2. The propriety of longevity sol- 
 
 emnly disputed. 122 23-123 22.
 
 60 THE IDEA OF COMEDY 
 
 3. How Aristophanes would have 
 
 treated the theme. 123 23- 
 V 124 22. 
 
 4, This a question fit only for comic 
 
 interpretation. 124 13-15. 
 
 B. The comic draws laughter from dul- 
 I ness itself. 125 5-10. 
 
 C. The comic removes the causes of bore- 
 
 dom. 125 11-27. 
 
 1. It silences prosers. 125 14-17. 
 
 2. It blows away unreason and sen- 
 
 timentalism. 125 23-27. 
 
 D. But is the comic too much for us.^ 
 
 125 27-126 11. 
 in. The comic in public affairs. 126 12- 
 129 20. 
 
 A. England's need of the spirit of an 
 
 Aristophanes. 126 12-19. 
 
 B. Aristoplianes as a political force in 
 
 Athens. 126 20-129 17. 
 
 1. Ilis attacks on corruption. 126 
 
 20-24. 
 
 2. The checks on his power. 126 
 
 24-127 3. 
 
 3. His gift of common sense. 127 
 
 3-13. 
 
 4. His conservatism. 127 14-23.
 
 ANALYSIS 61 
 
 5. The idea of good citizenship ia 
 his comedies. 127 23-28. 
 
 C. Aristophanes an aggregate of 
 many great men. 128 14-22. 
 
 7. The magnitude of his conflict. 
 
 128 23-129 5. 
 
 8. His versatility. 129 o-17. 
 
 C. His method worth our study. 129 
 17-20. 
 IV. Estimate of the EngHsh comic sense. 
 129 21-133 8. 
 
 A. The EngUsh pubHc most in sym- 
 
 pathy with Aristophanic comedy. 
 129 21-28. 
 
 1. Taste for the grotesque, for irony, 
 
 and for satire. 129 23-25 
 
 2. Strong common sense the basis for 
 
 the comic. 129 25-28. 
 
 B. What ails the English .= 129 28- 
 
 132 17. 
 
 1. Too many punsters. 130 3-10. 
 
 2. Lack of the comic spirit. 130 10- 
 
 23. 
 
 a. Anecdote of tlie tyrannous 
 
 hostess. 130 15-23. 
 
 3. Undeveloped social sense. 130 
 
 24-132 17.
 
 62 THE IDEA OF COMEDY 
 
 a. Anecdote of the burial-com- 
 pany. 131 10-22. 
 ^b. Anecdote of the book on cab- 
 fares. 131 22-27. 
 c. Anecdote of the young horse- 
 man. 131 27-132 17. 
 C. What have they of the comic ? 132 
 18-133 8. 
 
 1. No lack of comic writers in prose, 
 
 as Fielding, Goldsmith, Miss 
 Austen, Gait. 132 19-24. 
 
 2. Excellence in satire and humor. 
 
 132 27-133 2. 
 
 3. Tendency to a sentimental geni- 
 
 ality. 133 3-8. 
 
 V. The comic in relation to kindred qual- 
 ities. 133 9-136 27. 
 - A. The test of comic percepticwi. 133 
 9-24. 
 
 1. Can you detect what is ridiculous 
 
 in your friends.'' 133 9-11. 
 
 2. Can you admit what is ridiculous 
 
 in yourself to your friends ? 133 
 12-14. 
 a. Illustration of the affectionate 
 
 couple in a quarrel. 133 16- 
 
 24.
 
 ANALYSIS 63 
 
 B. The comic distinguished from: 133 
 
 25-134 12. 
 
 1. Satire. 133 25-27. 
 
 2. Irony. 133 28-134 6. 
 
 3. Humor. 134 7-12. 
 
 C. Comic j>erception defined. 134 13- 
 
 21. 
 
 D. These distinctions illustrated. 134 
 
 22-136 10. 
 
 1. Anecdote from Jonatlmn Wild. 
 
 134 22-135 12. 
 
 2. Fielding's attitude to Richardson; 
 
 Parson Adams. 135 13-17. 
 
 3. Alceste, Tartuffe, Celimene, Phi- 
 
 laminte. 135 17-27. 
 
 4. Byron. 135 28-136 10. 
 
 E. Characterization of: 136 11-27. 
 
 1. The satirist. 136 11-12. 
 
 2. The ironist. 136 13-21. 
 
 3. The humorist. 136 22-27. 
 
 a. Of a mean order. 136 22-25. 
 fe. Of a high order. 136 25-27. 
 VI. The humorist and the comic poet. 136 
 28-141 2. 
 A. The humorist. 136 28-138 27. 
 
 1. Has greater scope than the comic 
 poet; e. g., Don Quixote. 136- 
 28-137 18.
 
 64 THE IDEA OF COMEDY 
 
 a. Comedy in the juxtaposition of 
 
 knight and squire. 137 1-4. 
 
 b. Humor in the opposition of 
 
 their natures. 137 4-16. 
 
 c. Tragic sentiment in the hero's 
 
 ideahsm. 137 16-18. 
 
 2. Sometimes lacks perception. 137 
 
 19-138 19. 
 
 a. Is irritable, wilful, wanting dis- 
 
 cretion; e.g., 'a living . . . 
 humorist' [Carlyle]. 137 
 19-138 15. 
 
 b. Tends to caprice and senti- 
 
 mentality; e. g., Sterne. 138 
 15-19. 
 
 3. Needs the generalizing mfluence 
 
 of comedy. 138 20-27. 
 
 a. Proportion and taste de- 
 
 veloped by the comic spirit. 
 138 20-^2. 
 
 b. The French debt to Moliere. 
 
 138 22-27. 
 
 B. The comic poet. 138 28-141 2. 
 
 1. Has a narrow field and a re- 
 stricted audience. 138 28-139 
 10. 
 a. Addresses only the intellect. 
 
 139 2-5.
 
 ANALYSIS 65 
 
 b. Is concernecl chiefly with ex- 
 ternals. 139 5-7. 
 
 2. Is often misunderstood. 139 10- 
 
 18. 
 a. HLs fynction is not grasped by 
 the .sentimental. 139 10-13. 
 h. He is accused of cynicism. 
 139 13-18. 
 
 3. Is no mere mocker. 139 18- 
 
 140 23. 
 
 a. Never ridicules poverty, but 
 
 only pretension; e. g., Caleb 
 Balderstone, and 'poor rela- 
 tions.' 139 18-140 3. 
 
 b. Is more subtle than humorist, 
 
 satirist, or ironist. 140 4- 
 14. 
 i. Anecdote of Beau Brummell 
 and the Prince. 140 6-14. 
 
 c. Is averse to derision. 140 15- 
 
 23. 
 4. Laughs impersonally and thought- 
 fully. 140 24-141 2. 
 Vn. Recapitulation: 141 3-7. 
 
 A. The test of civilization: the flour- 
 
 ishing of comedy. 141 3-5. 
 
 B. The test of true comedy : thoughtful 
 
 laughter. 141 6-7.
 
 66 THE IDEA OF COMEDY 
 
 \TII. The comic spirit. 141 8-147 12. 
 
 A. Figurative conception. 141 8- 
 142 23. 
 
 1. Its origin in the common sense 
 
 of mankind. 141 8-17. 
 
 2. Its appearance. 141 18-142 3. 
 
 3. Its function. 142 4-19. 
 
 a. To correct disproportion. 
 
 142 4-13. 
 h. To develop the social sense. 
 
 142 13-19. 
 
 4. Its method. 142 19-23. 
 
 5. The perception of its presence a 
 
 test of intelligence. 142 24- 
 
 27. 
 
 B. Relation to the individual. 142 28- 
 144 21. 
 
 1. Common sense a prerequisite to 
 
 its benefits. 142 28-143 8. 
 
 2. What the comic spirit does for 
 
 one. 143 9-144 4. 
 
 a. Spares the pain of satirical 
 
 heat; e. g., Moliere's re- 
 venge on his critics. 143 
 12-21. 
 
 b. Gives fellowship with great 
 
 mmds. 143 21-144 1.
 
 ANALYSIS 67 
 
 c. Relieves depression, weari- 
 ness, vanity. 144 1-4. 
 3. What the comic spirit refrains 
 from. 144 4-21. 
 
 a. Does not exclude imagina- 
 tion or devotion or poet- 
 ry; e. g., Chaucer, Shake- 
 speare, Milton, Pope, Cow- 
 per. 144 4-13. 
 
 h. Is not hostile to the priestly 
 element except when cor- 
 rupt; the relation between 
 Bossuet and Moliere. 144 
 13-21. 
 C. The quality of its laughter. 144 
 
 22-147 12. 
 
 1. Laughter a thing open to per- 
 
 version. 144 22-145 2. 
 
 a. Tliat of comic pulpits ques- 
 tionable. 144 22-28. 
 
 h. The scornful and brutal sorts 
 not unknown. 144 28-145 
 2. 
 
 2. The laughter of the comic spirit 
 
 wholly beneficial. 145 2-26. 
 a. Like harmless wine, fresh 
 air, q sparkling well. 145 
 3-23.
 
 68 THE IDEA OF COMEDY 
 
 b. Aristophanes on the function 
 
 of the comic. 145 14-22. 
 
 c. The comic laugh a factor in 
 
 civilization. 145 23-26. 
 3. The breadth of the comic laugh. 
 145 26-147 12. 
 
 a. The laughter of stormy fun 
 
 (.\ristophanes) ; e. g., a 
 scene from the Frogs, 
 passages in Rabelais and 
 Don Quixote, and a chap- 
 ter in Peregrine Pickle. 
 146 9-25. 
 
 b. The laughter of the mind 
 
 (Moliere); e. g., Le Mir- 
 santhrope, Le Tartvfc. 146 
 25-147 8. 
 
 c. The intermediate laugh 
 
 (Shakespeare and Cer- 
 vantes).' 147 8-12. 
 IX. Results of the absence of the comic idea. 
 147 13-154 12. 
 A. Lack of perceptive delicacy. 147 
 13-149 14. 
 
 1. Not incompatible with powerful 
 
 mentality. 147 18-148 1. 
 
 2. Exclusive of good taste. 148 1-5. 
 
 3. The cause of arrogance. — Anec-
 
 xVNALYSIS dQ 
 
 dote of the English professor. 
 148 6-16. 
 4. A hindrance to the learned in 
 society. 148 17-149 14. 
 
 a. The danger of honization. 
 
 148 23-27. 
 
 b. The confusion of ideas in fash- 
 
 ionable circles. 148 27-149 
 14. 
 B. Germany as an example. 149 15- 
 152 27. 
 
 1. Curious barbarism among a cul- 
 
 tivated nation. — Anecdote of 
 the German professor. 149 15- 
 150 16. 
 
 2. No national training in the comic. 
 
 150 17-151 7. 
 
 a. Heine not enough. 150 26-27. 
 
 b. The national bias too strong in 
 
 controversy. 150 27-151 7. 
 
 3. Contrast with the French. 151 
 
 7-27. 
 
 a. The French schooled in La 
 
 Bruyere, La Fontaine, Mo- 
 liere. 151 7-15. 
 
 b. The German a Titan, the 
 
 Frenchman a god. 151 16- 
 27.
 
 70 THE IDEA OF COlViEDY 
 
 4. This the great defect among their 
 
 great talents. 151 28-152 10. 
 
 5. The nation not incapable of comic 
 
 development. 152 11-27. 
 
 a. Goethe their great exemplar. 
 
 152 16-18. 
 
 b. Social intercourse with women 
 
 necessary. 152 18-27. 
 C. Realism of modern French comedy 
 [as in Augier]. 152 28-154 12. 
 
 1. Its direct study of life commend- 
 
 able. 152 28-153 4. 
 
 2. General sameness in the several 
 
 writers. 153 4-7. 
 
 3. Sketch of two stock cliaracters. 
 
 153 8-154 4. 
 
 a. An Aventuriere m the decorous 
 
 world. 153 8-17. 
 
 b. A goodish young man to ob- 
 
 struct her path. 153 17- 
 154 4. 
 
 4. The total eflFect unsatisfying. 
 
 154 4-12. 
 
 X. Advantages of the writing of comedy. 
 154 13-155 17. 
 A. To the public. 154 13-19. 
 
 1 . The comic idea most perceptible in 
 a comedy. 154 13-17.
 
 ANALYSIS 71 
 
 2. Lessons taken in congregations the 
 most effective. 154 17-19. 
 
 B. To the writers. 154 19-28. 
 
 1. An incentive to close observation of 
 
 men. 154 19-24. 
 
 2. A corrective of style. 154 24- 
 
 28. 
 
 a. Of pedantry in the great. 154 
 
 24-26. 
 
 b. Of solecisms in the small. 154 
 
 26-28. 
 
 C. To the national taste in literature. 
 
 154 28-155 17. 
 
 1. An antidote to cheap writing. 
 
 154 28-155 6. 
 
 2. An education in just criticism. 
 
 155 7-17. 
 
 XL Conclusion. The state of criticism in 
 England. 155 17-25.
 
 ON THE IDEA OF COMEDY AND OF 
 THE USES OF THE COMIC SPIRIT
 
 ON THE IDEA OF COMEDY 
 
 AND OF THE USES OF 
 
 THE COMIC SPIRIT 
 
 Good comedies are such rare productions ^^ 
 that, notwithstanding the wealth of our 
 literature in the comic element, it would not 
 occupy us long to run over the English list. 
 If they are brought to the test I shall pro- 5 
 pose, very reputable comedies will be found 
 unworthy of their station, like the ladies of 
 Arthur's Court when they were reduced to 
 the ordeal of the mantle. 
 
 There are plain reasons why the comic 10 
 poet is not a frequent apparition, and why 
 the great comic poet remains without a 
 fellow. A society of cultivated men and 
 women is required, wherein ideas are current, 
 and the perceptions (juick, that he may be 15 
 supplied with matter and an audience. The 
 semi-barbarism of merely giddy communities, 
 and feverish emotional periods, repel him; 
 and also a state of marked social inequality 
 of the sexes; nor can he whose business is to 20 
 address the mind be understood where there 
 
 75
 
 76 THE IDEA OF COMEDY 
 
 is not a moderate degree of intellectual ac- 
 tivity. 
 
 Moreover, to touch and kindle the mind 
 through laughter demands, more than spright- 
 5 liness, a most subtle delicacy. That must be 
 a natal gift in the comic poet. The substance 
 he deals with will show him a startling exhi- 
 bition of the dyer's hand, if he is without it. 
 ; "I'eople are ready to surrender themselves to 
 i( witty thumps on the back, breast, and sides; 
 • all except the head — and it is there that he 
 I aims. He must be subtle to penetrate. A 
 corresponding acuteness must exist to wel- 
 come him. The necessitj' for the two con- 
 13 ditions will explain how it is that we count 
 him during centuries in the singular number. 
 'C^est nne et range entreprise que celle de 
 faire rire les honnetes gens,' Moliere says; and 
 the difficulty of the undertaking cannot be 
 20 overestimated. 
 
 Then again, he is beset with foes to right 
 and left, of a character unknown to the tragic 
 and the lyric poet, or even to philosophers. 
 We have in this world men whom Rabelais 
 25 would call 'agelasts'; that is to say, non- 
 Uiughers — men who are in that respect as 
 dead bodies, which, if you prick them, do not 
 bleed. The old gray boulder-stone, that has
 
 THE COMIC SPIRIT 77 
 
 finished its peregrination from the rock to 
 the valley, is as easily to be set rolling up 
 again as these men laughing. No collision 
 of circumstances in our mortal career strikes 
 a light for them. It is but one step from 5 
 being agelastic to misogelastic, and the 
 fjiia6ye\ws, the laughter-hating, soon learns to 
 dignify his dislike as an objection in morality. 
 We have another class of men who are 
 pleased to consider themselves antagonists of 10 
 the foregoing, and whom we may term ' hyper- 
 gelasts'; the excessive laughers, ever-laughing, 
 who are as clappers of a bell, that may be 
 rung by a breeze, a grimace; who are so 
 loosely put together that a wink will shake 15 
 them. 
 
 C'est n'estimer rien qu'estimer tout le monde; 
 
 and to laugh at everything is to have no ap- 
 preciation of the comic of comedy. 
 
 Neither of these distinct divisions of non- 20 
 laughers and over-laughers would be enter- 
 tained by reading The Rape of the Lock, or 
 seeing a performance of Le Tartu ffe. In re- 
 lation to the stage, they have taken in our 
 land the form and title of Puritan and Bac- 25 
 chanalian; for though the stage is no longer 
 a public ofiFender, and Shakespeare has been
 
 78 THE IDEA OF COMEDY 
 
 revived on it, to give it nobility, we have 
 not yet entirely raised it above the conten- 
 tion of these two parties. Our speaking on 
 the theme of comedy will appear almost a lib- 
 
 5 ertine proceeding to one, while the other will 
 think that the speaking of it seriously brings 
 us into violent contrast with the subject. 
 
 Comedy, we have to admit, was never one 
 of the most honored of the Muses. She was 
 
 IQ in her origin, short of slaughter, the loudest 
 expression of the little civilization of men. 
 The light of Athene over the head of Achilles 
 illuminates the birth of Greek tragedy. But 
 comedy rolled in shouting under the divine 
 
 15 protection of the Son of the Wine-jar, as 
 Dionysus is made to proclaim himself by 
 Aristophanes. Our second Charles was the 
 patron, of like benignity, of our Comedy of 
 Manners, which began similarly as a com- 
 
 20 bative performance, under a license to deride 
 and outrage the Puritan, and was here and 
 there Bacchanalian beyond the Aristophanic 
 example — worse, inasmuch as a cynical licen- 
 tiousness is more abominable than frank filth. 
 
 25 An eminent Frenchman judges, from the 
 quality of some of the stuff dredged up for 
 the laughter of men and women who sat 
 through an Athenian comic play, that they
 
 THE COMIC SPIRIT 79 
 
 could have had small delicacy in other af- 
 fairs, when they had so little in their choice of 
 entertainment. Perhaps he does not make 
 sufficient allowance for the regulated license 
 of plain-speaking proper to the festival of 5 
 the god, and claimed by the comic poet as 
 his inalienable right, or for the fact that it 
 was a festival in a season of license, in a city 
 accustomed to give ear to the boldest utter- 
 ance of both sides of a case. However that lO 
 may be, there can be no question that the 
 men and women who sat through the acting 
 of Wycherley's Country Wife were past 
 bluslung. Our tenacity of national impres- 
 sions has caused the word 'theatre' since then 15 
 to prod the Puritan nervous system like a 
 Satanic instrument; just as one has known 
 anti-papists for whom Smithfield was re- 
 dolent of a sinister smoke, as though they 
 had a later recollection of the place than the 20 
 lowing herds. Hereditary Puritanism regard- 
 ing the stage is met, to this day, in many 
 families quite undistinguished by arrogant 
 piety. It has subsided altogether as a power 
 in the profession of morality; but it is an 25 
 error to suppose it extinct, and unjust also to 
 forget that it had once good reason to hate, 
 shun, and rebuke our public shows.
 
 80 THE IDEA OF COMEDY 
 
 We shall find ourselves about where the 
 comic spirit would place us, if we stand at 
 middle distance between the inveterate op- 
 ponents and the drum-and-fife supporters of 
 
 5 comedy. '[C'elui qui s''arrete] fait rcinarquer 
 V evi'portcment des aiitres, comme un point fixe, ^ 
 as Pascal says. And were there more in this 
 position, comic genius would flourish. 
 
 Our English idea of a comedy of manners 
 
 10 might be imaged in the person of a blowsy 
 country girl — say Hoyden, the daughter of 
 Sir Tunbelly Clumsey, who, when at home, 
 never disobeyed her father except in the 
 'eating of green gooseberries' — transforming 
 
 15 to a varnished city madam, with a loud laugh 
 and a mincing step: the crazy ancestress 
 of an accountably fallen descendant. She 
 bustles prodigiously, and is punctually smart 
 in her speech, always in a fluster to escape 
 
 20 from Dulness, as they say the dogs on 
 the Nile-banks drink at the river running 
 to avoid the crocodile. If the monster catches 
 her, as at times he does, she whips him to a 
 froth, so that those who know Dulness only 
 
 25 as a thing of ponderousness shall fail to rec- 
 ognize him in that light and airy shape. 
 
 When she has frolicked through her five 
 acts, to surprise you with the information
 
 THE COMIC SPIRIT 81 
 
 that Mr. Aimwell is converted by a sudden 
 death in the world outside the scenes into 
 Lord Aimwell, and can marry the lady in 
 the light of day, it is to the credit of her 
 vivacious nature that she does not anticipate 5 
 your calling her Farce. Five is dignity with 
 a trailing robe; whereas one, two, or three 
 acts would be short skirts, and degrading. 
 Advice has been given to householders that 
 they should follow up the shot at a burglar lO 
 in the dark by hurling the pistol after it, so 
 that if the bullet misses, the weapon may 
 strike, and assure the rascal he has it. The 
 point of her wit is in this fashion supple- 
 mented by the rattle of her tongue, and ef- 15 
 fectively, Recording to the testimony of her 
 admirers. ' Her wit is at once, like steam in 
 an engine," the motive force and the warning 
 whistle of her headlong course; and it van- 
 ishes like the track of steam when she has 20 
 reached her terminus, never troubling the 
 brains afterward; a merit that it shares 
 with, .good wine, to the joy of the Bacchana- 
 lians. 
 
 As to this wit, it is warlike. In the neatest 25 
 hands it is like the sword of the cavaUer in 
 the Mall, quick to flash out upon slight prov- 
 ocation, and for a similar oflSce — to wound.
 
 82 THE IDEA OF COMEDY 
 
 Commonly its attitude is entirely pugilistic; 
 two blunt fists rallying and countering. When 
 harmless, as when the word 'fool' occurs, or 
 allusions to the state of husband, it has the 
 
 5 sound of the smack of harlequin's wand upon 
 clown, and is to the same extent exhilarating. 
 Believe that idle, empty laughter is the most 
 desirable of recreations, and significant com- 
 edy will seem pale and shallow in comparison. 
 
 10 Our popular idea would be hit by the sculp- 
 tured group of Laughter holding both his 
 sides, while Comedy pummels, by way of 
 tickling him. As to a meaning, she holds 
 that it does not conduce to making merry; 
 
 15 you might as well carry cannon on a racing- 
 yacht. Morahty is a duenna to be circum- 
 vented. This was the view of English com- 
 edy of a sagacious essayist, who said that the 
 end of a comedy would often be the com- 
 
 20 mencement of a tragedy, were the curtain to 
 rise again on the performers. In those old 
 days female modesty was protected by a fan, 
 behind which — and it was of a convenient 
 semicircular breadth — the ladies present in 
 
 25 the theatre retired at a signal of decorum, to 
 peep, covertly askant, or with the option of 
 so peeping, through a prettily-fringed eyelet- 
 hole in tlie eclipsing arch.
 
 THE COMIC SPIRIT 83 
 
 Ego limis specto 
 ^c per flabellum clanculum. 
 
 — Terence. 
 
 That fan is the flag and symbol of the society 
 giving us our so-called Comedy of Manners, 5 
 or comedy of the manners of South-Sea is- 
 landers under city veneer; and, as to comic 
 idea, vacuous as the mask without the face 
 behind it. 
 
 Elia, whose humor delighted in floating a 10 
 galleon paradox, and wafting it as far as it 
 would go, bewails the extinction of our arti- 
 ficial comedy, like a poet sighing over the 
 vanished splendor of Cleopatra's Nile-barge; 
 and the sedateness of his plea, for a cause 15 
 condemned even in his time to the peniten- 
 tiary, is a novel effect of the ludicrous. When 
 the realism of those 'fictitious, half-believed 
 personages,' as he calls them, had ceased to 
 strike, they were objectionable company, un- 20 
 caressable as puppets. Their artifices are 
 staringly naked, and have now the effect of 
 a painted face, viewed, after warm hours of 
 dancing, in the morning light. How could 
 the Lurewells and the Plyants ever have been 25 
 praised for ingenuity in wickedness? Critics 
 apparently sober, and of high reputation, 
 held up their shallow knaveries for the world
 
 &4 THE IDEA OF COMEDY 
 
 to admire. These Lurewells, Plyants, Pinch- 
 wifes, Fondlewifes, Miss Prue, Peggy, Hoy- 
 den, all of them save charming Millamant, 
 are dead as last year's clothes in a fashion- 
 
 5 able fine lady's wardrobe; and it must be an 
 exceptionably abandoned Abigail of our 
 period that would look on them with the wish 
 to appear in their likeness. Whether the 
 puppet-show of Punch and Judy inspires our 
 
 10 street-urchins to have instant recourse to 
 their fists in a dispute, after the fashion of 
 every one of the actors in that public enter- 
 tainment who gets possession of the cudgel, 
 is open to question; it has been hinted; and 
 
 15 angry moralists have traced the national taste 
 for tales of crime to the smell of blood in our 
 nursery-songs. It will at any rate hardly be 
 questioned that it is unwholesome for men 
 and women to see themselves as they are, if 
 
 20 they are no better than they should be; and 
 they will not, when they have improved in 
 manners, care much to see themselves as they 
 once were. That comes of reahsm in the 
 comic art; and it is not public caprice, but 
 
 25 the consequence of a bettering state. The 
 same of an immoral may be said [as] of real- 
 istic exhibitions of a vulgar society. 
 
 The French make a critical distinction in
 
 THE COMIC SPIRIT 85 
 
 ce qui remue from ce qui Smeut — that which 
 agitates from that which touches with emo- 
 tion. In the realistic comedy it is an inces- 
 sant remuage; no calm — merely bustling fig- 
 ures — and no thought. Excepting Congreve's 5 
 Way of the World, which failed on the stage, 
 there was nothing to keep our comedy alive 
 on its merits; neither, with all its realism, 
 true portraiture, nor much quotable fun, nor 
 idea; neither salt nor soul. » 
 
 The French have a school of stately com- 
 edy to which they can fly for renovation 
 whenever they have fallen away from it; and 
 their having such a school is mainly the rea- 
 son why, as John Stuart Mill pointed out, ?• 
 they know men and women more accurately 
 than we do. Moliere followed the Horatian 
 precept, to observe the manners of his age, 
 and give his characters the color befitting 
 them at the time. He did not paint in raw •4> 
 realism. He seized his characters firmly for 
 the central purpose of the play, stamped 
 them in the idea, and, by slightly raising and 
 softening the object of study (as in the case 
 of the ex-Huguenot, Due de Montausier, for 24 
 the study of the Misanthrope, and, accord- 
 ing to Saint-Simon, the Abb6 Roquette for 
 Tartuffe), generalized upon it so as to make
 
 86 THE IDEA OF COMEDY 
 
 it permanently human. Concede that it is 
 natural for human creatures to live in soci- 
 ety, and Alceste is an imperishable mark of 
 one, though he is drawn in light outline, 
 
 5 without any forcible human coloring. 
 
 Our English school has not clearly imagined 
 society; and of the mind hovering above con- 
 gregated men and women it has imagined 
 nothing. The critics who praise it for its 
 
 10 downrightness, and for bringing the situa- 
 tions home to us, as they admiringly say, 
 cannot but disapprove of Moliere's comedy, 
 which appeals to the individual mind to per- 
 ceive and participate in the social. We have 
 
 15 splendid tragedies, we have the most beauti- 
 ful of poetic plays, and we have literary 
 comedies passingly pleasant to read, and oc- 
 casionally to see acted. By literary com- 
 edies, I mean comedies of classic inspiration, 
 
 S« drawn chiefly from Menander and the Greek 
 New Comedy through Terence; or else com- 
 edies of the poet's personal conception, that 
 h&ve had no model in life, and are humorous 
 exaggerations, happy or otherwise. These 
 
 25 are the comedies of Ben Jonson, Massinger, 
 and Fletcher. Massinger 's Justice Greedy 
 we can all of us refer to a type, 'with good 
 capon lined,' that has been, and will be; and
 
 THE COIVnC SPIRIT 87 
 
 he would be comic, as Panurge is comic, but 
 only a Rabelais could set him moving with 
 real animation. Probably Justice Greedy 
 would be comic to the audience of a country 
 booth, and to some of our friends. If we 5 
 have lost our youthful relish for the presen- 
 tation of characters put together to fit a type, 
 we find it hard to put together the mechan- 
 ism of a civil smile at his enumeration of his 
 dishes. Something of the same is to be said lo 
 of Bobadill, swearing 'by the foot of Pharaoh'; 
 with a reservation, for he is made to move 
 faster, and to act. The comic of Jonson is a 
 scholar's excogitation of the comic; that of 
 Massinger a moralist's. 15 
 
 Shakespeare is a well-spring of characters 
 which are saturated with the comic spirit; 
 with more of what we will call blood-life 
 than is to be found anywhere out of Shake- 
 speare; and they are of this world, but they 29 
 are of the world enlarged to our embrace by 
 imagination, and by great poetic imagina- 
 tion. They are, as it were — I put it to suit 
 my present comparison — creatures of the 
 woods and wilds, not in walled towns, not 25 
 grouped and toned to pursue a comic ex- 
 hibition of the narrower world of society, 
 Juques, Falstaff and his regiment, the varied
 
 88 THE IDEA OF COMEDY 
 
 troop of clowns, Malvolio, Sir Hugh Evans 
 and Fluellen (marvelous Welshmen!) Bene- 
 dick and Beatrice, Dogberry, and the rest, 
 are subjects of a special study in the poeti- 
 
 5 cally comic. 
 
 His comedy of incredible imbroglio belongs 
 to the literary section. One may conceive 
 that there was a natural resemblance between 
 him and Menander, both in the scheme and 
 
 10 style of his lighter plays. Had Shakespeare 
 lived in a later and less emotional, less 
 heroical, period of our history, he might 
 have turned to the painting of manners 
 as well as humanity. Euripides would 
 
 15 probably, in the time of Menander, when 
 Athens was enslaved but prosperous, have 
 lent his hand to the composition of ro- 
 mantic comedy. He certainly inspired that 
 fine genius. 
 
 20 Politically, it is accounted a misfortune for 
 France that her nobles thronged to the Court 
 of Louis Quatorze. It was a boon to the 
 comic poet. He had that lively quicksilver 
 world of the animalcule passions, the huge 
 
 25 pretensions, the placid absurdities, under his 
 eyes in full activity; vociferous quacks and 
 snapping dupes, hypocrites, posturers, ex- 
 travagants, pedants, rose-pink ladies and mad
 
 THE COlVnC SPIRIT 89 
 
 grammarians, sonnetteering marquises, high- 
 flying mistresses, plain-minded maids, inter- 
 threading as in a loom, noisy as at a fair. 
 A simply bourgeois circle will not furnish it, 
 for the middle class must have the brilliant, 5 
 flippant, independent upper for a spur and 
 a pattern; otherwise it is likely to be in- 
 wardly dull, as well as outwardly correct. 
 Yet, though the King was benevolent toward 
 Moliere, it is not to the French Court that lO 
 we are indebted for his unrivaled studies of 
 mankind in society. For the amusement of 
 the Court the ballets and farces were written, 
 which are dearer to the rabble upper, as to 
 the rabble lower, class than intellectual com- 15 
 edy. The French bourgeoisie of Paris were 
 sufficiently quick-witted and enlightened by 
 education to welcome great works like Le 
 Tartnjfe, Les Femmes Savantes, and ie Mi- 
 santhrope, works that were perilous ventures 20 
 on the popular intelligence, big vessels to 
 launch on streams running to shallows. The 
 Tartuffe hove into view as an enemy's ves- 
 .sel; it offended, not 'Dicu, mais . . . les di- 
 vots,' as the Prince de Conde explained the 25 
 cabal raised against it to the King. 
 
 The Femmes Savmites is a capital instance 
 of the uses of comedy in teaching the world
 
 90 THE IDEA OF COIVIEDY 
 
 to understand what ails it. The farce of the 
 Pricietises ridiculed, and put a stop to, the 
 monstrous romantic jargon made popular by 
 certain famous novels. The comedy of the 
 
 5 Femmes Savantes exposed the later and less 
 apparent, but more finely comic, absurdity 
 of an excessive purism in grammar and dic- 
 tion, and the tendency to be idiotic in pre- 
 cision. The French had felt the burden of 
 
 10 this new nonsense; but they had to see the 
 comedy several times before they were con- 
 soled in their suffering by seeing the cause 
 of it exposed. i 
 
 The Misanthrope was yet more frigidly 
 
 15 received. Moliere thought it dead. *I can 
 not improve on it, and assuredly never shall,' 
 he said. It is one of the French titles to 
 honor that this quintessential comedy of 
 the opposition of Alceste and Celimene was 
 
 20 ultimately understood and applauded. In 
 all countries the middle class presents the 
 public which, fighting the world, and with 
 a good footing in the fight, knows the world 
 best. It may be the most selfish, but that 
 
 25 is a question leading us into sophistries. 
 Cultivated men and women who do not 
 skim the cream of life, and are attached to 
 the duties, yet escape the harsher blows.
 
 THE COMIC SPIRIT 91 
 
 make acute and balanced observers. Moliere 
 is their poet. 
 
 Of this class in England, a large body, 
 neither Puritan nor Bacchanalian, have a 
 sentimental objection to face the study of 5 
 the actual world. They take up disdain of 
 it, when its truths appear humiliating; when 
 the facts are not immediately forced on 
 them, they take up the pride of incredulity. 
 They live in a hazy atmosphere that they w 
 suppose an ideal one. Humorous writing 
 they will endure, perhaps approve, if it 
 mingles with pathos to shake and elevate 
 the feelings. They approve of satire, be- 
 cause, like the beak of the vulture, it smells i5 
 of carrion, which they are not. But of com- 
 edy they have a shivering dread, for comedy 
 enfolds them with the wretched host of the 
 world, huddles them with us all in an ig- 
 noble assimilation, and cannot be used by 20 
 any exalted variety as a scourge and a broom. 
 Nay, to be an exalted variety is to come 
 under the calm, curious eye of the Comic 
 Spirit, and be probed for what you are. 
 Men are seen among them, and very many 2Q 
 cultivated women. You may distinguish 
 them by a favorite phrase: 'Surely we are 
 not so bad!' and the remark: 'If that i3
 
 92 THE IDEA OF COMEDY 
 
 human nature, save us from it!' — as if it 
 could be done; but in the peculiar paradise 
 of the wilful people who will not see, the ex- 
 clamation assumes the saving grace. 
 s Yet, should you ask them whether they 
 dislike sound sense, they vow they do not. 
 And question cultivated women whether it 
 pleases them to be shown moving on an in- 
 tellectual level with men, they will answer 
 
 19 that it does; numbers of them claim the 
 situation. Now comedy is the fountain of 
 sound sense; not the less perfectly sound 
 on account of the sparkle; and comedy lifts 
 women to a station offering them free play 
 
 IS for their wit, as they usually show it, when 
 they have it, on the side of sound sense. 
 The higher the comedy, the more prominent 
 tlie part they enjoy in it. Dorine in the 
 Tartuffe is common sense incarnate, though 
 
 20 palpably a waiting-maid. Celimene is un- 
 disputed mistress of the same attribute in 
 the Misanthrope; wiser as a woman than 
 Alceste as man. In Congreve's TVay of 
 Ihe World, Millamant overshadows Mira- 
 
 25 bell, the sprightliest male figure of English 
 comedy. 
 
 IJut those two ravishing women, so copious 
 and so choice of speech, who fence with men
 
 THE COMIC SPIRIT 93 
 
 and pass their guard, are heartless! Is it 
 not preferable to be the pretty idiot, the 
 passive beauty, the adorable bundle of ca- 
 prices, very feminine, very sympathetic, of 
 romantic and sentimental fiction? Our 5 
 women are taught to think so. The Agnes 
 of the Ecole des Feinmes should be a lesson 
 for men. The heroines of comedy are like 
 women of the world, not necessarily hcartles^» 
 from being clear-sighted; they seem so to i>^ 
 the sentimentally reared, only for the reason 
 that they use their wits, and are not wan- 
 dering vessels crying for a captain or a pilot . 
 Comedy is an exhibition of their battle with 
 men, and that of men with them; and as i& 
 the two, however divergent, both look on 
 one object, namely, life, the gradual similar- 
 ity of their impressions must bring them to 
 some resemblance. The comic poet darrs 
 to show us men and women coming to this 2v> 
 mutual likeness; he is for saying that when 
 they draw together in social life their minds 
 grow liker; just as the philosopher discerns 
 the similarity of boy and girl, until the girl 
 is marched away to the nursery. Philosopher 25 
 and comic poet are of a cousinship in the 
 eye they cast on life; and they are equally 
 unpopular with our wilful English of the
 
 94 THE IDEA OF COMEDY 
 
 hazy region and the ideal that is not to be 
 disturbed. 
 
 Thus, for want of instruction in the comic 
 idea, we lose a large audience among our cul- 
 
 5 tivated middle class that we should expect 
 to support comedy. The sentimentalist as 
 as averse as the Puritan and as the Bac- 
 chanalian. 
 
 Our traditions are unfortunate. The pub- 
 
 10 lie taste is with the idle laughers, and still in- 
 clines to follow them. It may be shown by 
 an analysis of Wycherley's Plain Dealer, a 
 coarse prose adaption of the Misanthrope, 
 stuffed with lumps of realism in a vulgarized 
 
 15 theme to hit the mark of English appetite, 
 that we have in it the key-note of the com- 
 edy of our stage. It is Moliere travestied, 
 with the hoof to his foot, and hair on the 
 pointed tip of his ear. And how difficult it 
 
 20 is for writers to disentangle themselves from 
 bad traditions is noticeable when we find 
 Goldsmith, who had grave command of the 
 comic in narrative, producing an elegant 
 farce for a comedy; and Fielding, who was a 
 
 25 master of the comic both in narrative and in 
 dialogue, not even approaching to the pre- 
 sentable in farce. 
 
 These bad traditions of comedy aflFect us.
 
 THE COMIC SPIRIT 95 
 
 not only on the stage, but in our literature, 
 and may be tracked into our social life. 
 They are the ground of the heavy moralizings 
 by which we are outwearied, about life as a 
 comedy, and comedy as a jade, when pop- 5 
 ular writers, conscious of fatigue in creative- 
 ness, desire to be cogent in a modish cyni- 
 cism; perversions of the idea of life, and of 
 the proper esteem for the society we have 
 wrested from brutishness, and would carry lo 
 higher. Stock images of this description are 
 accepted by the timid and the sensitive, as 
 well as by the saturnine, quite seriously; for 
 not many look abroad with their own eyes 
 — fewer still have the habit of thinking for 15 
 themselves. Life, we know too well, is not a 
 comedy, but something strangely mixed; 
 nor is comedy a vile mask. The corrupted 
 importation from France was noxious, a noble 
 entertainment spoilt to suit the wretched 20 
 taste of a villainous age; and the later imita- 
 tions of it, partly drained of its poison and 
 made decorous, became tiresome, notwith- 
 standing their fun, in the perpetual recurring 
 of the same situations, owing to the absence 23 
 of original study and vigor of conception. 
 Scene 5, Act 2, of the Misanthrope, owing, no 
 doubt, to the fact of our not producing matter
 
 96 THE IDEA OF COMEDY 
 
 for original study, is repeated in succession 
 by Wycherley, Congreve, and Sheridan, and, 
 as it is at second hand, we have it done cyni- 
 cally — or such is the tone — in the manner of 
 
 5 'below stairs.' Comedy thus treated may be 
 accepted as a version of the ordinary worldly 
 understanding of our social life; at least, in 
 accord with the current dicta concerning it. 
 The epigrams can be made; but it is unin- 
 
 10 structive, rather tending to do disservice. 
 Comedy justly treated, as you find it in 
 Moliere, whom we so clownishly mishandled 
 — the comedy of Moliere throws no infamous 
 reflection upon life. It is deeply conceived, 
 
 15 in the first place, and therefore it cannot be 
 impure. Meditate on that statement. Never 
 did man wield so shrieking a scourge upon 
 vice; but his consummate self-mastery is not 
 shaken while administering it. Tartuffe and 
 
 20 Harpagon, in fact, are made each to whip 
 himself and his class — the false pietists, and 
 the insanely covetous. Moliere has only set 
 them in motion. He strips Folly to the skin, 
 displays the imposture of the creature, and is 
 
 25 content to offer her better clothing, with the 
 lesson Chrysale reads to Philaminte and 
 Belise. He conceives purely, and he writes 
 purely, in the simplest language, the sim-
 
 THE COMIC SPIRIT 97 
 
 plest of French verse. The source of his 
 wit is clear reason; it is a fountain of that 
 soil, and it springs to vindicate reason, com- 
 mon sense, rightness, and justice — for no vain 
 purpose ever. The wit is of such pervading 5 
 spirit that it inspires a pun with meaning and 
 interest. His moral does not hang like a tail, 
 or preach from one character incessantly 
 cocking an eye at the audience, as in recent 
 realistic French plays, but is in the heart of lo 
 his work, throbbing with every pulsation of 
 an organic structure. If life is likened to the 
 comedy of Aloliere, there is no scandal in the 
 comparison. 
 
 Congreve's Way of the World is an excep- 15 
 tion to our other comedies, liis own among 
 them, by \'irtue of the remarkable brilliancy 
 of the writing, and the figure of Millamant. 
 The comedy has no idea in it, beyond the 
 stale one that so the world goes; and it con- 20 
 eludes with the jaded discovery of a docu- 
 ment at a convenient season for the descent 
 i)f the curtain. A plot was an afterthought 
 with Congreve. By the help of a wooden 
 villain (Maskwell), marked gallows to the 25 
 flattest eye, he gets a sort of plot in The 
 Douhle-Dealer. His Way of the World might 
 be called 'The Conquest of a Town Coquette';
 
 98 THE IDEA OF COMEDY 
 
 and Millamant is a perfect portrait of a 
 coquette, both in her resistance to Mira- 
 bell and the manner of her surrender, and 
 also in her tongue. The wit here is not so 
 5 salient as in certani passages of Love for Love, 
 where Valentine feigns madness, or retorts on 
 his father, or Mrs. Frail rejoices in the harm- 
 lessness of wounds to a woman's virtue, if 
 she keeps them 'from air.' In The Way of 
 
 10 the World, it appears less prepared in the 
 smartness, and is more diffused in the more 
 characteristic style of the speakers. Here, 
 however, as elsewhere, his famous wit is like 
 a bully-fencer, not ashamed to lay traps for 
 
 ij its exhibition, transparently petulant for the 
 train between certain ordinary words and 
 the pK)wder-magazine of the improprieties to 
 be fired. Contrast the wit of Congreve Tivith 
 Moliere's. That of the first is a Toledo blade, 
 
 20 sharp, and wonderfully supple for steel; cast 
 for dueling, restless in the scabbard, being so 
 pretty when out of it. To shine, it must 
 have an adversary. Moliere's wit is like a 
 running brook, with innumerable fresh lights 
 
 25 on it at every turn of the wood through which 
 its business is to find a way. It does not run 
 in search of obstructions, to be noisy over 
 them; but when dead leaves and viler
 
 THE COMIC SPIRIT 99 
 
 substances are heaped along the course, its 
 natural song is heightened. Without effort, 
 and with no dazzling flashes of achievement, 
 it is full of healing, the wit of good breeding, 
 the wit of wisdom. 5 
 
 'Genuine humor and true wit,' says Lan- 
 dor, 'require a sound and capacious mind, 
 which is always a grave one. . . . Rabelais 
 and La Fontaine are recorded by their coun- 
 trymen to have been reveurs. Few men havt^ lO 
 been graver than Pascal; few have been wit- 
 tier.' To apply the citation of so great a brain 
 as Pascal's to our countryman would be un- 
 fair. Congreve had a certain soundness of 
 mind; of capacity, in the sense intended by 15 
 Landor, he had little. Judging him by his 
 wit, he performed some happy thrusts; and, 
 taking it for genuine, it is a surface wit, 
 neither rising from a depth nor flowing from 
 a spring: 20 
 
 On voit qu'il se travaille a dire de bons moLs. 
 
 He drives the poor hack- word, 'fool,' as 
 cruelly to the market for wit as any of his 
 competitors. Here is an example, that has 
 been held up for eulogy: 25 
 
 wiTWotiD. He has brought me a letter from the 
 
 fool my brother. . . . 
 iuuABELL. A fool, and your brother, Witwoud !
 
 100 THE IDEA OF COMEDY 
 
 WTTWOUD. Ay, ay, my half-brother. My half- 
 brother he is; no nearer, upon honor. 
 
 MiRABKLL. Then 'tis possible he may be but half 
 a fool. 
 
 6 — By evident preparation. This is a sort of 
 
 wit one remembers to have heard at school, 
 
 of a brilliant outsider; perhaps to have been 
 
 guilty of oneself a trifle later. It was, no 
 
 doubt, a blaze of intellectual fireworks to the y 
 
 10 bumpkin squire who came to London to go 
 to the theatre and learn manners. 
 
 Where Congreve excels all his English 
 rivals is in his literary force, and a succinct- 
 ne.ss of style peculiar to liim. He had correct 
 
 45 judgment, a correct ear, readiness of illustra- 
 tion within a narrow range — in snap-shots of 
 the obvious at the obvious — and copious 
 language. He hits the mean of a fine style 
 and a natural in dialogue. He is at once 
 
 20 precise and voluble. If you have ever thought 
 upon style, you will acknowledge it to be a 
 signal accomplishment. In this he is a classic, 
 and is worthy of tread mg a measure with 
 Molierc. Tlie Way of the World may be read 
 
 as out currently at a first glance, so sure are the 
 accents of the emphatic meaning to strike 
 the eye, perforce of the crispness and cunning 
 polish of the sentences. You have not to 
 look over them before you confide yourself
 
 THE COMIC SPIRIT 101 
 
 to him; he will carry you safe. Sheridan 
 imitated, but was far from surpassing, him. 
 The flow of boudoir billingsgate in Lady Wish- 
 fort is unmatched for the vigor and pointed- 
 ness of the tongue. It spins along with a 5 
 final ring, like the voice of Nature in a fury, 
 and is, indeed, racy eloquence of the elevated 
 fishwife. 
 
 Millamant is an admirable, almost a lov- 
 able, heroine. It is a piece of genius in a lo 
 writer to make a woman's manner of speech 
 portray her. You feel sensible of her pres- 
 ence in every line of her speaking. The 
 stipulations with her lover in view of mar- 
 riage, her fine lady's delicacy, and fine lady's 15 
 easy evasions of indelicacy, coquettish airs, 
 and playing with irresolution, which in a 
 common maid would be bashfulness, until she 
 submits to 'dwindle into a wife,' as she says, 
 form a picture that lives in the frame, and is 20 
 in harmony with Mirabcll's description of her: 
 
 Here she comes, i' faith, full sail, with her fan 
 spread and her streamers out, and a shoal of fool.s 
 for tenders. 
 
 And, after an interview : 25 
 
 Think of you? To think of a whirlwind, though 
 'twere in a whirlwind, were a case of more steady 
 contemplation; a very tranquillity of mind and 
 mansion.
 
 102 THE IDEA OF COMEDY 
 
 There is a picturesqueness, as of Millamant 
 and no other, in her voice, when she is en- 
 couraged to take Mirabell by Mrs. Fainall, 
 who is 'sure' she has 'a mind to him': 
 
 5 MILLAMANT. Are you ? I think I have — and the 
 horrid man looks as if he thought so too. — 
 
 One hears the tones, and sees the sketch and 
 color of the whole scene, in reading it. 
 
 Celimene is behind Millamant in vividness. 
 
 10 An air of bewitching whimsicality hovers 
 over the graces of this comic heroine, like 
 the lively conversational play of a beautiful 
 mouth. But in wit she is no rival of Celimene. 
 Wliat she utters adds to her personal witchery, 
 
 15 and is not further memorable. She is a flash- 
 ing portrait, and a type of the superior ladies 
 who do not think, not of those who do. In 
 representing a class, therefore, it is a lower 
 class, in the proportion that one of Gatns- 
 
 20 borough's full-length aristocratic women is 
 below the permanent impressiveness of a fair 
 Venetian head. 
 
 Millamant, side by side with Celimene, is 
 an example of how far the realistic painting 
 
 25 of a character can be carried to win our favor, 
 and of where it falls short. Celimene is a 
 woman's mind in movement, armed with an
 
 THE COMIC SPIRIT 103 
 
 ungovernable vAt; with perspicacious, clear 
 eyes for the world, and a very distinct knowl- 
 edge that she belongs to the world, and is 
 most at home in it. She is attracted to 
 Alceste by her esteem for his honesty; she 5 
 cannot avoid seeing where the good sense of 
 the man is diseased. 
 
 Rousseau, in his letter to D'Alembert on 
 the subject of the Misanthrope, discusses 
 the character of Alceste as though Moliere lo 
 had put him forth for an absolute example 
 of misanthropy; whereas Alceste is only a 
 misanthrope of the circle he finds himself 
 placed in — he has a touching faith in tlie 
 virtue residing in the country, and a critical 15 
 love of sweet simpleness. Nor is he the 
 principal person of the comedy to which 
 he gives a name. He is only passively comic. 
 Celimene is the active spirit. While he is 
 denouncing and railing, the trial is imposed 20 
 upon her to make the best of him, and con- 
 trol herself, as much as a witty woman, ea- 
 gerly courted, can do. By appreciating him 
 she practically confesses her faultmess, and 
 she is better disposed to meet him half-way 25 
 than he is to bend an inch; only she is 'u7ic 
 dme de vingt ans,' the world is pleasant, and, 
 if the gilded flies of the Court are silly, un-
 
 104 THE IDEA OF COMEDY 
 
 compromising fanatics have their ridiculous 
 features as well. Can she abandon the life 
 they make agreeable to her, for a man who will 
 not be guided by the common sense of his 
 5 class, and who insists on plunging into one 
 extreme — equal to suicide in her eyes — to 
 avoid another? That is the comic question 
 of the Misanthrope. Why will he not con- 
 tinue to mix with the world smoothly, ap- 
 
 10 peased by the flattery of her secret and really 
 sincere preference of him, and taking his 
 revenge in satire of it, as she does from her 
 own not very lofty standard, and will by and 
 by do from his more exalted one? 
 
 15 Celimene is worldliness; Alceste is un- 
 worldliness. It does not quite imply un- 
 selfishness; and that is perceived by her 
 shrewd head. Still, he is a very uncommon 
 figure in her circle, and she esteems him, 
 
 20 H'homme aux ruhans verts,' who 'sometimes 
 diverts,* but more often horribly vexes her — 
 as she can say of him when her satirical tongue 
 is on the run. Unhappily the soul of truth 
 in him, which wins her esteem, refuses to be 
 
 25 tamed, or silent, or unsuspicious, and is the 
 perpetual obstacle to their good accord. He 
 is that melancholy person, the critic of every- 
 body save liimself; intensely sensitive to the
 
 THE COlSnC SPIRIT 105 
 
 faults of others, wounded by them; in love 
 wdth his own Indubitable honesty, and with 
 his ideal of the simpler form of life befitting 
 it — qualities which constitute the satirist. 
 He is a Jean Jacques of the Court, His pro- 5 
 posal to Celimene, when he pardons her. 
 that she should follow him in flying human- 
 kind, and his frenzy of detestation of her at 
 her refusal, are thoroughly in the mood of 
 Jean Jacques. He is an impracticable crea- lo 
 ture of a priceless virtue; but Celimene may 
 feel that to fly with him to the desert (that 
 is, from the Court to tlie country), 
 
 Ou d'etre homme d'honneiir on ait la liberie, 
 
 she is likely to find herself the companion of a 15 
 starving satirist, like that poor princess who 
 ran away with the waiting-man, and, when 
 both were hungry in the forest, was ordered to 
 give him flesh. She is a fieffec coquette, re- 
 joicing in her wit and her attractions, and 20 
 distinguished by her inclination for Alceste 
 in the midst of her many other lovers; only 
 she finds it hard to cut them off — what woman 
 with a train does not.' — and when the ex- 
 posure of her naughty wit has laid her under 25 
 their rebuke, she will do the utmost she can: 
 she will give her hand to honesty, but she
 
 106 THE IDEA OF COMEDY 
 
 cannot quite abandon worldliness. She would 
 be unwise if she did. 
 
 The fable is thin. Our pungent contrivers 
 of plots would see no indication of life in the 
 
 5 outlines. The life of the comedy is in the 
 idea. As with the singing of the skylark out 
 of sight, you must love the bird to be atten- 
 tive to the song, so in this highest flight of 
 the comic Muse, you must love pure comedy 
 
 10 warmly to understand the Misanthrope ; you 
 must be receptive of the idea of comedj'. 
 And to love comedy you must know the real 
 world, and know men and women well enough 
 not to expect too much of them, though you 
 
 15 may still hope for good. 
 
 Menander wrote a comedy called Miso- 
 gynes, said to have been the most celebrated 
 of his works. This misogynist is a married 
 man, according to the fragment surviving, 
 
 20 and is a hater of women through hatred of 
 his wife. He generalizes upon them from 
 the example of this lamentable adjunct of 
 his fortunes, and seems to have got the worst 
 of it in the contest with her, which is like 
 
 25 the issue in reality in the polite world. He 
 seems also to have deserved it, which may 
 be as true to the copy. But we are unable 
 to say whether the wife was a good voice of
 
 THE COMIC SPIRIT 107 
 
 her sex; or how far Menander in this in- 
 stance raised the idea of woman from the 
 mire it was plunged into by the comic poets, 
 or rather satiric dramatists, of the middle 
 period of Greek comedy preceding him and 5 
 the New Comedy, who devoted their wit 
 chiefly to the abuse, and, for a diversity, to 
 the eulogy of extra-mural ladies of conspicuous 
 fame. Menander idealized them, without 
 purposely elevating. He satirized a certain lO 
 Thais, and his Thais of the Eunuchus of Ter- 
 ence is neither professionally attractive nor 
 repulsive; his picture of the two Andrians, 
 Chrysis and her sister, is nowhere to be 
 matched for tenderness. But the condition 15 
 of honest women in his day did not permit 
 of the freedom of action and fencing dialectic 
 of a Celimene, and consequently it is below 
 our mark of pure comedy. 
 
 Sainte-Beuve conjures up the ghost of 20 
 Menander saying: 'For the love of me love 
 Terence.' It is through love of Terence that 
 moderns are able to love Menander; and 
 what is preserved of Terence has not, ap- 
 parently, given us the best of the friend of 25 
 Epicurus, iiiffovixepo^, the lover taken in 
 horror, and UtpiKeipo/xivTi, the damsel shorn 
 of her locks, have a promising sound for
 
 108 THE IDEA OF COMEDY 
 
 scenes of jealousy and a too masterful dis- 
 play of lordly authority, leading to regrets 
 of the kind known to intemperate men who 
 imagined they were fighting with the weaker, 
 
 5 as the fragments indicate. 
 
 Of the six comedies of Terence, four are 
 derived from Menander; two, the Hecyra 
 and the Phormio, from Apollodorus. Tliese 
 two are inferior, in comic action and the 
 
 10 peculiar sweetness of Menander, to the An- 
 dria, the Adelphi, the Heauton Timoruvienos, 
 and the Eunuchus; but Phormio is a more 
 dashing and amusing convivial parasite than 
 the Gnatho of the last-named cometly. 
 
 15 There were numerous rivals of whom we know 
 next to nothing (except by the quotations of 
 Athenaeus and Plutarch, and the Greek 
 grammarians who cited them to support a 
 dictum) in this, as in the preceding periods 
 
 20 of comedy in Athens; for Menander's plays 
 are counted by many scores, and they were 
 crowned by the prize only eight times. The 
 favorite poet with critics, in Greece as in 
 Rome, was Menander; and if some of his 
 
 25 rivals here and there surpassed him in comic 
 force, and outstripped him in competition 
 by an appositeness to the occasion that had 
 previously in the same way deprived the
 
 THE COMIC SPIRIT 109 
 
 genius of Aristophanes of its due reward in 
 Clouds and Birds, his position as chief of the 
 comic poets of his age was unchallenged. 
 Plutarch very unnecessarily drags Aris- 
 tophanes into a comparison with him, to 5 
 the confusion of the older poet. Their aims, 
 the matter they dealt in, and the times, were 
 quite dissimilar. But it is no wonder that 
 Plutarch, writing when Athenian beauty of 
 .style was the delight of his patrons, should lo 
 rank Menander at the highest. In what 
 degree of faithfulness Terence copied Me- 
 nander — whether, as he states of the passage 
 in the Adelphi taken from Diphilus, 'verbum 
 de verbo' in the lovelier scenes (the description 15 
 of the last words of the dying Andrian, and 
 of her funeral, for instance) — remains con- 
 jectural. For us, Terence shares with his 
 master the praise of an amenity that is like 
 Elysian speech, equable and ever gracious; 20 
 like the face of the Andrian's young sister: 
 
 Adeo modesto, adeo venusto, ut nil supra. 
 
 The celebrated 'flcns quam familiariier,' of 
 which the closest rendering grounds hope- 
 lessly on harsh prose, to express the sorrow- 25 
 ful confidingness of a young girl who has 
 lost her sister and dearest friend, and has
 
 110 THE IDEA OF COMEDY 
 
 but her lover left to her — 'she turned and 
 flung herself on his bosom, weeping as though 
 at home there' — this our instinct tells us 
 must be Greek, though hardly finer in Greek. 
 5 Certain lines of Terence, compared with the 
 original fragments, show that he embellished 
 them; but his taste was too exquisite for 
 him to do other than devote his genius to 
 the honest translation of such pieces as the 
 
 10 above. Menander, then; with him, through 
 the aflBnity of sympathy, Terence; and 
 Shakespeare and Moliere, have this beautiful 
 translucency of language. And the study 
 of the comic poets might be recommended 
 
 15 if for that only. 
 
 A singular ill fate befell the writings of 
 Menander. What we have of him in Terence 
 was chosen probably to please the cultivated 
 Romans, and is a romantic play with a comic 
 
 20 intrigue, obtained in two instances, the An- 
 dria and the Eunuchus, by rolling a couple 
 of his originals into one. The titles of certain 
 of the lost plays indicate the comic illumining 
 character; a Self-Pitier, a Self-Chastiser, an 
 
 25 Ill-tempered Man, a Superstitiozis, an Incredu- 
 lous, etc., point to suggestive domestic themes. 
 Terence forwarded manuscript translations 
 from Greece that suffered shipwreck; he, who
 
 THE COMIC SPIRIT 111 
 
 could have restored the treasure, died on the 
 way home. The zealots of Byzantium com- 
 pleted the work of destruction. So we have 
 the four comedies of Terence, numbering six 
 of Menander, with a few sketches of plots 5 
 (one of them, the Thesaurus, introduces a 
 miser, whom we should have liked to con- 
 trast with Harpagon), and a multitude of 
 small fragments of a sententious cast, fitted 
 for quotation. Enough remains to make his lo 
 greatness felt. 
 
 Without undervaluing other writers of 
 comedy, I think it may be said that Menander 
 and Moliere stand alone specially as comic 
 poets of the feelings and the idea. In each i5 
 of them there is a conception of the comic 
 that refines even to pain, as in the Menedemus 
 of the Ileauion Timorumenos, and in the Mis- 
 anthrope. Menander and Moliere have 
 given the principal types to comedy hitherto. 20 
 The Micio and Demea of the Adelphi, with 
 their opposing views of the proper manage- 
 ment of youth, are still alive; the Sganarelles 
 and Arnolphes of the Ecole des Maris and the 
 Ecolc des Fertimes are not all buried. Tartufi'e 25 
 is the father of the hypocrites; Orgon of the 
 dupes; Thraso of the braggadocios; Alceste 
 of the 'Manlys'; Davus and Syrus of the
 
 112 THE IDEA OF COMEDY 
 
 intriguing valets, the Scapins and Figaros. 
 Ladies that soar in the realms of rose-pink, 
 whose language wears the nodding plumes of 
 intellectual conceit, are traceable to Phila- 
 5 minte and Belise of the Femmes Savantes; 
 and the mordant, witty women have the 
 tongue of Celimene. The reason is that 
 these two poets idealized upon life; the foun- 
 dation of their types is real and in the quick, 
 
 10 but they painted with spiritual strength, 
 which is the solid in art. 
 
 The idealistic conception of comedy gives 
 breadth and opportunities of daring to comic 
 genius, and helps to solve the diflSculties it 
 
 15 creates. How, for example, shall an audience 
 be assured that an evident and monstrous 
 dupe is actually deceived without being an 
 absolute fool ? In Le Tartiiffe the note of 
 high comedy strikes when Orgon on his re- 
 
 20 turn home hears of his idol's excellent appetite. 
 'Le pauvre homme /' he exclaims. He is told 
 that the wife of his bosom has been unwell. 
 ' Et Tartuffc ? ' he asks, impatient to hear 
 him spoken of, his mind suffused with the 
 
 25 thought of Tartuffe, crazy with tenderness; 
 and again he croons: 'Le pauvre homme T 
 It is the mother's cry of pitying delight at 
 a nurse's recital of the feats in young animal
 
 THE COMIC SPIRIT 113 
 
 gluttony of her cherished infant. After this 
 master-stroke of the comic, you not only put 
 faith in Orgon's roseate prepossession, you 
 share it with him by comic sympathy, and 
 can listen with no more than a tremble of 
 the laughing-muscles to the instance he gives 
 of the sublime humanity of Tartuffe: 
 
 Un rien presque suflBt pour le scandaliser, 
 Jusque-la qu'il se vint, I'autre jour, accuser 
 D 'avoir pris une puce en faisant sa pri^re, 
 Et de ravoir tuee avec trop de colore. 
 
 10 
 
 'And to have killed it too wrathfully ' ! Trans- 
 lating Moliere is like humming an air one 
 has heard performed by an accomplished 
 violinist of the pure tones without flourish. 15 
 
 Orgon awakening to find another dupe in 
 Madame Pernelle, incredulous of the revela- 
 tions which have at last opened his own be- 
 sotted eyes, is a scene of the double comic, 
 vivified by the spell previously cast on the 20 
 mind. There we feel the power of the poet's 
 creation; and, in the sharp light of that 
 sudden turn, the humanity is livelier than 
 any realistic work can make it. 
 
 Italian comedy gives many hints for a 25 
 Tartuffe; but they may be found in Boc- 
 caccio, as well as in Machiavelli's Mandragnla. ^
 
 114 THE IDEA OF COMEDY 
 
 The Frate Timoteo of this piece is only a 
 very oily friar, compliantly assisting an in- 
 trigue with ecclesiastical sophisms (to use 
 the mildest word) for payment. Frate Ti- 
 5 moteo has a fine Italian priestly pose: 
 
 DONNA. Credete voi, che '1 Turco passi questo 
 
 anno in Italia.'' 
 Fn.VTE TiMOTEO. Se vol non fate orazione, si. 
 
 Priestly arrogance and unctuousness, and 
 
 10 trickeries and casuistries, cannot be painted 
 without our discovering a likeness in the 
 long Italian gallery. Goldoni sketched the 
 Venetian manners of the decadence of the 
 Republic with a French pencil, and was an 
 
 15 Italian scribe in style. 
 
 The Spanish stage is richer in such com- 
 edies as that which furnished the idea of the 
 Mcnteur to Corneille. But you must force 
 3'ourself to believe that this liar is not forcing 
 
 20 liis vein when he piles lie upon lie. There is 
 no preceding touch to win the mind to credu- 
 lity. Spanish comedy is generally in sharp 
 outline, as of skeletons; in quick movement, 
 as of marionettes. The comedy might be 
 
 25 performed by a troop of the corps de ballet; 
 and in the recollection of the reading it re- 
 solves to an animated shuflBe of feet. It is.
 
 THE CO^nC SPIRIT 115 
 
 in fact, something other than the true idea 
 of comedy. Where the sexes are separated, 
 men and women grow, as the Portuguese 
 call it, afaimados of one another, famine- 
 stricken; and all the tragic elements are on 5 
 the stage. Don Juan is a comic character 
 that sends souls flying; nor does the humor 
 of the breaking of a dozen women's hearts 
 conciliate the comic Muse with the drawing 
 of blood. 10 
 
 German attempts at comedj' remind one 
 vividly of Heine's image of his country in 
 the dancing of Atta Troll. Lessing tried his 
 hand at it, with a sobering effect upon readers. 
 The intention to produce the reverse effect ift 
 is just visible, and therein, like the portly 
 graces of the poor old Pyrenean bear poising 
 and twirling on his right hind-leg and his left, 
 consists the fun. Jean Paul Richter gives the 
 best edition of the German comic in the con- 20 
 trast of Siebenkas with his Lenette. A light of 
 the comic is in Goethe — enough to complete 
 the splendid figure of the man, but no more. 
 
 The German literary laugh, like the timed 
 awakenings of their Barbarossa in the hoi- 25 
 lows of the Untersberg, is infrequent, and 
 rather monstrous — never a laugh of men and 
 women in concert. It comes of unrefined.
 
 IIG THE IDEA OF COMEDY 
 
 abstract fancy, grotesque or grim, or gross, 
 like the peculiar humors of their little earth- 
 men. Spiritual laughter they have not yet 
 attained to; sentimentalism waylays them 
 5 in the flight. Here and there a volkslied or 
 rndrchen shows a national aptitude for stout 
 animal laughter, and we see that the literature 
 is built on it, which is hopeful so far; but to 
 enjoy it, to enter into the philosophy of the 
 
 10 broad grin that seems to hesitate between 
 the skull and the embryo, and reaches its 
 perfection in breadth from the pulling of 
 two square fingers at the corners of the mouth, 
 one must have aid of 'the good Rhine wine,' 
 
 15 and be of German blood unmixed besides. 
 This treble-Dutch lumbersomeness of the 
 Comic Spirit is of itself exclusive of the idea 
 of comedy, and the poor voice allowed to 
 women in German domestic life will ac- 
 
 20 count for the absence of comic dialogues 
 reflecting upon life in that land. I shall 
 speak of it again in the second section of 
 this lecture. 
 
 Eastward you have total silence of comedy 
 
 25 among a people intensely susceptible to 
 laughter, as the Arabian Nights will testify. 
 Where the veil is over women's faces, you 
 cannot have society, without which tlie senses
 
 118 THE IDEA OF COMEDY 
 
 prudery of the veil as the civiHzing medium 
 of his race. 
 
 There has been fun in Bagdad. But there 
 never will be civilization where comedy is 
 5 not possible; and that comes of some degree 
 of social equality of the sexes. I am not 
 quoting the Arab to exhort and disturb the 
 somnolent East; rather for cultivated women 
 to recognize that the comic Muse is one of 
 
 10 their best friends. They are blind to their 
 interests in swelling the ranks of the senti- 
 mentalists. Let them look with their clearest 
 vision abroad and at home. They will see 
 that, where they have no social freedom, 
 
 15 comedy is absent; where they are household 
 drudges, the form of comedy is primitive; 
 where they are tolerably independent, but 
 uncultivated, exciting melodrama takes its 
 place, and a sentimental version of them. 
 
 20 Yet the comic will out, as they would know 
 if they listened to some of the private con- 
 versations of men whose minds are undirected 
 by the comic Muse; as the sentimental man, 
 to his astonishment, would know likewise, 
 
 2\ if he in similar /ashion could receive a lesson. 
 
 But where women are on the road to an equal 
 
 footing with men, in attainments and in lib- 
 
 • erty— in what they have won for them-
 
 THE COMIC SPIRIT 117 
 
 are barbarous and the Comic Spirit is driven 
 to the gutters of grossness to slake its tliirst. 
 Arabs in this respect are worse than ItaHans 
 — much worse than Germans, — just in the 
 degree that their system of treating women 5 
 is worse. 
 
 M. Saint-Marc Girardin, the excellent 
 French essayist and master of critical style, 
 tells of a conversation he had once with an 
 Arab gentleman on the topic of the different 10 
 management of these difficult creatures in 
 Orient and in Occident; and the Arab spoke 
 in praise of many good results of the greater 
 freedom enjoyed by Western ladies, and the 
 charm of conversing with them. He was 15 
 questioned why his countrymen took no 
 measures to grant them something of that 
 kind of liberty. He jumped out of his in- 
 dividuality in a twinkling, and entered into 
 the sentiments of his race, replying, from 20 
 the pinnacle of a splendid conceit, with af- 
 fected humility of manner: 'You can look 
 on them without perturbation — but we! . . .' 
 And, after this profoundly comic interjection, 
 he added, in deep tones: 'The very face of a 25 
 woman ! ' Our representative of temperate 
 notions demurely consented that the Arab's 
 pride of inflammability should insist on the ,
 
 THE COMIC SPIRIT 119 
 
 selves, and what has been granted them by ' 
 a fair civilization — there, and only waiting 
 to be transplanted from life to the stage, 
 or the novel, or the poem, pure comedy 
 flourishes, and is, as it would help them to 5 
 be, the sweetest of diversions, the wisest of 
 delightful companions. ' 
 
 Now, to look about us in the present time, 
 I think it will be acknowledged that, in neg- 
 lecting the cultivation of the comic idea, we lo 
 are losing the aid of a powerful auxiliar. You 
 see Folly perpetually sliding into new shapes 
 in a society possessed of wealth and leisure, 
 with many whims, many strange ailments 
 and strange doctors. Plenty of common 15 
 sense is in the world to thrust her back when 
 she pretends to empire. But the first-born 
 of common sense, the vigilant Comic, which 
 is the genius of thoughtful laughter, which 
 would readily extinguish her at the outset, 20 
 is not serving as a public advocate. 
 
 You will have noticed the disposition of 
 common sense, under pressure of some per- 
 tinacious piece of light-headedness, to grow 
 impatient and angry. That is a sign of the 25 
 absence, or at least of the dormancy, of the 
 comic idea. For Folly is the natural prey
 
 120 THE IDEA OF COMEDY 
 
 ^ of the Comic, known to it in all her trans- 
 formations, in every disguise; and it is with 
 the springing delight of hawk over heron, 
 hound after fox, that it gives her chase, never 
 5 fretting, never tiring, sure of having her, al- 
 lowing her no rest. 
 
 Contempt is a sentiment that cannot be 
 
 ■^ entertained by comic intelligence. What is 
 
 it but an excuse to be idly-minded, or per- 
 
 10 sonally lofty, or comfortably narrow, not 
 perfectly humane? If we do not feign when 
 we say that we despise Folly, we shut the 
 brain. There is a disdainful attitude in the 
 presence of Folly, partaking of the foolishness 
 
 15 to comic perception; and anger is not much 
 less foolish than disdain. The struggle we 
 have to conduct is essence against essence. 
 Let no one doubt of the sequel when this 
 emanation of what is firmest in us is launched 
 
 20 to strike down the daughter of Unreason and 
 Sentimentalism — such being Folly's parent- 
 age, when it is respectable. 
 
 Our modern system of combating her is 
 too long defensive, and carried on too plod- 
 
 25 dingly with concrete engines of war in the 
 attack. She has time to get behind entrench- 
 ments. She is ready to stand a siege, before 
 the heavily-armed man of science and the
 
 THE COMIC SPIRIT 121 
 
 writer of the leading article or elaborate essay 
 have primed their big guns. It should be 
 remembered that she has charms for the 
 multitude; and an English multitude, seeing 
 her make a gallant fight of it, will be half in 5 
 love with her, certainly willing to lend her 
 a cheer. Benevolent subscriptions assist her 
 to hire her own man of science, her own organ 
 in the press. If ultimately she is cast out 
 and overthrown, she can stretch a finger at lo 
 gaps in our ranks. She can say that she com- 
 manded an army, and seduced men, whom 
 we thought sober men and safe, to act as 
 her lieutenants. We learn rather gloomily, 
 after she has flashed her lantern, that we 15 
 have in our midst able men, and men with 
 minds, for whom there is no pole-star in in- 
 tellectual navigation. Comedy, or the comic 
 element, is the specific for the poison of de- 
 lusion while Folly is passing from the state 20 
 of vapor to substantial form. 
 
 O for a breath of Aristophanes, Rabelais, 
 Voltaire, Cervantes, Fielding, Moliere ! These 
 are spirits that, if you know them well, will 
 come when you do call. You will find the 25 
 very invocation of them act on you like a 
 renovating air — the south-west coming off 
 the sea, or a cry in the Alps.
 
 122 THE IDEA OF COMEDY 
 
 No one would presume to say that we are 
 deficient in jokers. They abound, and the 
 organization directing their machinery to 
 shoot them in the wake of the leading article 
 5 and the popular sentiment is good. But the 
 comic differs from them in addressing the 
 wits for laughter; and the sluggish wits want 
 some training to respond to it, whether in 
 public life or private, and particularly when 
 
 10 the feelings are excited. The sense of the 
 comic is much blunted by habits of punning 
 and of using humoristic phrase, the trick 
 of employing Jolmsonian polysyllables to 
 treat of the infinitely little. And it really 
 
 15 may be humorous, of a kind; yet it will miss 
 the point by going too much round about 
 it. 
 
 A certain French Due Pasquier died, some 
 years back, at a A'ery advanced age. He had 
 
 20 been the venerable Due Pasquier, in his later 
 years, up to the period of his death. There 
 was a report of Due Pasquier that he was a 
 man of profound egoism. Hence an argu- 
 ment arose, and was warmly sustained, upon 
 
 23 the excessive selfishness of those who, in a 
 world of troubles, and calls to action, and 
 innumerable duties, husband their strength 
 for the sake of living on. Can it be possible.
 
 THE COMIC SPIRIT 123 
 
 the argument ran, for a truly generous heart 
 to continue beating up to the age of a hun- 
 dred? Due Pasquier was not without his 
 defenders, who likened him to the oak of 
 the forest — a venerable comparison. 5 
 
 The argument w^as conducted on both sides 
 with spirit and earnestness, lightened here 
 and there by frisky touches of the polysyllabic 
 playful, reminding one of the serious pursuit 
 of their fun by truant boys that are assured lo 
 they are out of the eye of their master, and 
 now and then indulge in an imitation of him. 
 And well might it be supposed that the comic 
 idea was asleep, not overlooking them ! It 
 resolved at last to this, that either Due Pas- 15 
 quier was a scandal on our humanity in cling- 
 ing to life so long, or that he honored it by 
 so sturdy a resistance to the enemy. As one 
 who has entangled himself in a labyrinth is 
 glad to get out again at the entrance, the 20 
 argument ran about, to conclude with its 
 commencement. 
 
 Now, imagine a master of the comic treat- 
 ing this theme, and particularly the argument 
 on it. Imagine an Aristophanic comedy of 25 
 the Centenarian, with choric praises of hero- 
 ical early death, and the same of a stubborn 
 vitality, and the poet laughing at the Chorus;
 
 124 THE IDEA OF COMEDY 
 
 and the grand question for contention in 
 dialogue, as to the exact age when a man 
 should die, to the identical minute, that he 
 may preserve the respect of his fellows, fol- 
 
 5 lowed by a systematic attempt to make an 
 accurate measurement in parallel lines, with 
 a tough rope-yarn by one party, and a string 
 of yawns by the other, of the veteran's power 
 of enduring life, and our capacity for endur- 
 
 10 ing him, with tremendous pulling on both 
 sides. Would not the comic view of the dis- 
 cussion illumine it and the disputants like 
 very lightning ? There are questions, as well 
 as persons, that only the comic can fitly 
 
 15 touch. 
 
 Aristophanes would probably have crowned 
 the ancient tree with the consolatory ob- 
 servation to the haggard line of long-expec- 
 tant heirs of the Centenarian, that they live 
 
 20 to see the blessedness of coming of a strong 
 stock. The shafts of his ridicule would mainly 
 have been aimed at the disputants; for the 
 sole ground of the argument was the old 
 man's character, and sophists are not needed 
 
 25 to demonstrate that we can very soon have 
 too much of a bad thing. A centenarian 
 does not necessarily provoke the comic idea, 
 nor does the corpse of a duke. It is not pro-
 
 THE COMIC SPIRIT 125 
 
 voked in the order of nature, until we draw 
 its penetrating attentiveness to some cir- 
 cumstance with which we have been mixing 
 our private interests, or our speculative ob- 
 fuscation. Dulness, insensible to the comic, 5 
 has the privilege of arousing it; and the lay- 
 ing of a dull finger on matters of human life 
 is the surest method of establishing electrical 
 communications with a battery of laughter — 
 where the comic idea is prevalent. 10 
 
 But if the comic idea prevailed with us, 
 and we had an Aristophanes to barb and 
 wing it, we should be breathing air of Athens. 
 Prosers now pouring forth on us like public 
 fountains would be cut short in the street 15 
 and left blinking, dumb as pillar-posts with 
 letters thrust into their mouths. We should 
 throw off incubus, our dreadful familiar — by 
 some called boredom — whom it is our pres- 
 ent humiliation to be just alive enough to 20 
 loathe, never quick enough to foil. There 
 would be a bright and positive, clear Hellenic 
 perception of facts. 'J'he vapors of unreason 
 and sentimentalism would be blown away 
 before they were productive. Where would 25 
 pessimist and optimist be? They would in 
 any case have a diminished audience. Yet 
 possibly the change of despots, from good-
 
 126 THE IDEA OF COMEDY 
 
 natured old obtuseness to keen-edged intel- 
 ligence, which is by nature merciless, would 
 be more than we could bear. The rupture 
 of the link between dull people, consisting 
 
 5 in the fraternal agreement that something is 
 too clever for them, and a shot beyond them, 
 is not to be thought of lightly; for, slender 
 though the link may seem, it is equivalent 
 to a cement forming a concrete of dense co- 
 
 10 hesion, very desirable in the estimation of 
 the statesman. 
 
 A political Aristophanes, taking advantage 
 of his lyrical Bacchic license, was found too 
 much for political Athens. I would not ask 
 
 15 to have him revived, but that the sharp light 
 of such a spirit as his might be with us to 
 strike now and then on public affairs, public 
 themes, to make them spin along more 
 briskly. 
 
 20 He hated with the politician's fervor the 
 Sophist who corrupted simplicity of thought, 
 the poet who destroyed purity of style, the 
 demagogue, 'the saw- toothed monster,' who, 
 as he conceived, chicaned the mob; and he 
 
 25 held his own against them by strength of 
 laughter, until fines, the curtailing of his 
 comic license in the chorus, and ultimately 
 the ruin of Athens, which could no longer
 
 4 
 
 THE COMIC SPIRIT 127 
 
 support the expense of the chorus, threw him 
 altogether on dialogue, and brought him 
 under the law. After the catastrophe, the 
 poet, who had ever been gazing back at the 
 men of Marathon and Salamis, must have 5 
 felt that he had foreseen it; and that he was 
 wise when he pleaded for peace, and derided 
 military coxcombry and the captious old 
 creature Demus, we can admit. He had the 
 comic poet's gift of common sense — whicli lO 
 does not always include political intelligence; 
 yet his political tendency raised him above 
 the Old-Comedy turn for uproarious farce. 
 He abused Socrates; but Xenophon, the dis- 
 ciple of Socrates, by his trained rhetoric saved 15 
 the Ten Thousand. Aristophanes might say 
 that, if his warnings had been followed, there 
 would have been no such thing as a mercenary 
 Greek expedition under Cyrus. Athens, how- 
 ever, was on a landslip, falling; none could 20 
 arrest it. To gaze back, to uphold the old 
 times, was a most natural conservatism, and 
 fruitless. The aloe had bloomed. Whether 
 right or wrong in his politics and his criticisms, 
 and bearing in mind the instruments he played 25 
 on and the audience he had to win, there is 
 an idea in his comedies; it is the idea of good 
 citizenship.
 
 128 THE IDEA OF COMEDY 
 
 He is not likely to be revived. He stands, 
 like Shakespeare, an unapproachable. Swift 
 says of him, with a loving chuckle: 
 
 But as to comic Aristophanes, 
 5 The rogue too vicious and too profane is. 
 
 Aristophanes was 'profane,' under satiric 
 direction; unlike his rivals Cratinus, Phryni- 
 chus, Ameipsias, Eupolis, and others, if we 
 are to believe him, who, in their extraordinary 
 
 10 Donnybrook Fair of the day of comedy, 
 thumped one another and everybody else 
 with absolute heartiness, as he did, but aimed 
 at small game, and dragged forth particular 
 women, which he did not. He is an aggregate 
 
 15 of many men, all of a certain greatness. We 
 may build up a conception of his powers if 
 we mount Rabelais upon Iludibras, lift him 
 with the songfulness of Shelley, give him a 
 vein of Heinrich Heine, and cover him with 
 
 20 the mantle of the Anti- Jacobin, adding (that 
 there may be some Irish in him) a dash of 
 Grattan, before he is in motion. 
 
 But such efforts at conceiving one great 
 one by incorporation of minors are vain, and 
 
 25 cry for excuse. Supposing Wilkes for leading 
 man in a country constantly plunging into 
 war under some plumed Lamachus, with
 
 THE COMIC SPIRIT 129 
 
 enemies periodically firing the land up to the 
 gates of London, and a Samuel Foote, of 
 prodigious genius, attacking him with ridicule: 
 I think it gives a notion of the conflict en- 
 gaged in by Aristophanes. This laughing 5 
 bald-pate, as he calls himself, was a Titanic 
 pamphleteer, using laughter for his political 
 weapon; a laughter without scruple, the 
 laughter of Hercules. He was primed with 
 wit, as with the garlic he speaks of giving to lo 
 the game-cocks to make them fight the better. 
 And he was a lyric poet of aerial delicacy, 
 with the homely song of a jolly national poet, 
 and a poet of such feeling that the comic 
 mask is at times no broader than a cloth on 15 
 a face to show the serious features of our 
 common likeness. He is not to be revived; 
 but, if his method were studied, some of the 
 fire in him would come to us, and we might 
 be revived. 20 
 
 Taking them generally, the English public 
 are most in sympathy with this primitive 
 Aristophanic comedy, wherein the comic is 
 capped by the grotesque, irony tips the wit. 
 and satire is a naked sword. They have tht 25 
 basis of the comic in them — an esteem for 
 common sense. They cordially dislike the 
 reverse of it. They have a rich laugh, though
 
 10 
 
 130 THE IDEA OF COMEDY 
 
 it is not the gros rire of the Gaul tossing gros 
 sel, nor the poHshed Frenchman's mentally 
 digestive laugh. And if they have now, like 
 a monarch with a troop of dwarfs, too many 
 jesters kicking the dictionary about, to let 
 them reflect that they are dull, occasionally 
 (like the pensive monarch surprising himself 
 with an idea of an idea of his own), they look 
 so. And they are given to looking in the 
 glass. They must see that something ails 
 them. How much even the better order of 
 them will endure, without a thought of the 
 defensive, when the person afflicting them is 
 protected from satire, we read in memoirs of 
 
 15 a preceding age, where the vulgarly tyran- 
 nous hostess of a great house of reception 
 shuffled the guests and played them like a 
 pack of cards, with her exact estimate of the 
 strength of each one printed on them; and 
 still this house continued to be the most pop- 
 ular in England, nor did the lady ever appear 
 in print or on the boards as the comic type 
 that she was. 
 
 It has been suggested that they have not 
 
 25 yet spiritually comprehended the signification 
 of living in society; for who are cheerfuUer, 
 brisker of wit, in the fields, and as explorers, 
 colonizers, backwoodsmen? They are happy 
 
 20
 
 THE COMIC SPIRIT 131 
 
 in rough exercise, and also in complete repose. 
 The intermediate condition, when thej' are 
 called upon to talk to one another, upon other 
 than affairs of business or their hobbies, re- 
 veals them wearing a curious look of vacancy, 5 
 as it were the socket of an eye wanting. The 
 comic is perpetually springing up in social 
 life, and it oppresses them from not being 
 perceived. 
 
 Thus, at a dinner-party, one of the guests, lo 
 who happens to have enrolled himself in a 
 burial-company, politely entreats the others 
 to inscribe their names as shareholders, ex- 
 patiating on the advantages accruing to them 
 in the event of their very possible speedy 15 
 death, the salubrity of the site, the aptitude 
 of the soil for a quick consumption of their 
 remains, etc.; and they drink sadness from 
 the incongruous man, and conceive indiges- 
 tion not seeing him in a sharply-defined 20 
 light that would bid them taste the comic 
 of him. Or it is mentioned that a newly- 
 elected member of our Parliament celebrates 
 his arrival at eminence by the publication of 
 a book on cab-fares, dedicated to a beloved 25 
 female relative deceased, and the comment 
 on it is the word 'Indeed.' But, merely for 
 a contrast, turn to a not uncommon scene
 
 132 THE IDEA OF COMEDY 
 
 of yesterday in the hunting-field, where a 
 brilHant young rider, having broken his col- 
 lar-bone, trots away very soon after, against 
 medical interdict, half put together in splin- 
 
 5 ters, to the most distant meet of his neigh- 
 borhood, sure of escaping his doctor, who 
 is the first person he encounters. 'I came 
 here purposely to avoid you,' says the pa- 
 tient. *I came here purposely to take care 
 
 10 of you,' says the doctor. Off they go, and 
 come to a swollen brook. The patient clears 
 it handsomely; the doctor tumbles in. All 
 the field are alive with the heartiest relish 
 of every incident and every cross-light on 
 
 15 it, and dull would the man have been thought 
 who had not his word to say about it when 
 riding home. 
 
 In our prose literature we have had de- 
 lightful comic writers. Besides Fielding and 
 
 20 Goldsmith, there is Miss Austen, whose 
 Emma and Mr. Elton might walk straight 
 into a comedy, were the plot arranged for 
 them. Gait's neglected novels have some 
 characters and strokes of shrewd comedy. 
 
 25 In our poetic literature the comic is delicate 
 and graceful above the touch of Italian and 
 French. Generally, however, the English 
 elect excel in satire, and they are noble hu-
 
 THE COMIC SPIRIT 133 
 
 morists. The national disposition is for hard- 
 hitting, with a moral purpose to sanction it; 
 or for a rosy, sometimes a larmoyant, ge- 
 niality, not unmanly in its verging upon ten- 
 derness, and with a singular attraction for 5 
 thickheadedness, to decorate it with asses' 
 ears and the most beautiful sylvan haloes. 
 But the comic is a diflferent spirit. 
 
 You may estimate your capacity for comic 
 perception by being able to detect the ridicule lO 
 of them you love without loving them less; 
 and more by being able to see yourself some- 
 what ridiculous in dear eyes, and accepting 
 the correction their image of you proposes. 
 
 Each one of an affectionate couple may be 15 
 willing, as we say, to die for the other, yet 
 unwilling to utter the agreeable word at the 
 right moment; but if the wits were sufficiently 
 quick for them to perceive that they are in a 
 comic situation, as affectionate couples must 20 
 be when they quarrel, they would not wait 
 for the moon or the almanac, or a Dorine, to 
 bring back the flood-tide of tender feelings, 
 that they should join hands and lips. 
 
 If you detect the ridicule, and your kindli- 25 
 ness is chilled by it, you are slipping into the 
 grasp of Satire. 
 
 If, instead of falling foul of the ridiculous
 
 134 THE IDEA OF COMEDY 
 
 person with a satiric rod, to make him writhe 
 and shriek aloud, you prefer to sting him 
 under a semi-caress, by which he shall in his 
 anguish be rendered dubious whether indeed 
 
 5 anything has hurt him, you are an engine of 
 Irony. 
 
 If you laugh all round him, tumble him, 
 roll him about, deal him a smack, and drop 
 a tear on him, own his likeness to you, and 
 
 10 yours to your neighbor, spare him as little 
 as you shun, pity him as much as you expose, 
 it is a spirit of Humor that is moving you. 
 
 The comic, which is the perceptive, is the 
 governing spirit, awakening and giving aim 
 
 15 to these powers of laughter, but it is not to 
 be confounded with them; it enfolds a thinner 
 form of them, diflFering from satire in not 
 sharply driving into the quivering sensibili- 
 ties, and from humor in not comforting them 
 
 20 and tucking them up, or indicating a broader 
 
 than the range of this bustling world to them. 
 
 Fielding's Jonathan Wild presents a case 
 
 of this peculiar distinction, when that man 
 
 of eminent greatness remarks upon the un- 
 
 25 fairness of a trial in which the condemnation 
 has been brought about by twelve men of 
 the opposite party; for it is not satiric, it is 
 not humorous; yet it is immensely comic
 
 THE COMIC SPIRIT 135 
 
 to hear a guilty villain protesting that his 
 own 'party' should have a voice in the law. 
 It opens an avenue into villains' ratiocination. 
 And the comic is not canceled though we 
 should suppose Jonathan to be giving play 5 
 to his humor. (I may have dreamed this, 
 or had it suggested to me, for, on referring 
 to Jonathan Wild, I do not find it.) Apply 
 the case to the man of deep wit, who is ever 
 certain of his condemnation by the opposite lo 
 party, and then it ceases to be comic, and 
 will be satiric. 
 
 The look of Fielding upon Richardson is 
 essentially comic. His method of correcting 
 the sentimental writer is a mixture of the 15 
 comic and the humorous. Parson Adams is 
 a creation of humor. But both the concep- 
 tion and the presentation of Alceste and of 
 Tartuffe, of Celimene and Philaminte, are 
 purely comic, addressed to the intellect; there 20 
 is no humor in them, and they refresh the 
 intellect they quicken to detect their comedy, 
 by force of the contrast they offer between 
 themselves and the wiser world about them — 
 that is to say, society, or that assemblage 25 
 of minds whereof the comic spirit has its 
 origin. 
 
 Byron had splendid powers of humor, and
 
 136 THE IDEA OF COMEDY 
 
 the most poetic satire that we have example 
 
 of, fusing at times to hard irony. He had 
 
 no strong comic sense, or he would not have 
 
 taken an anti-social position, which is di- 
 
 5 rectly opposed to the comic; and in his 
 
 philosophy, judged by philosophers, he is a 
 
 comic figure by reason of this deficiency. 
 
 'Sobald er reflect irt ist er ein Kind,' Goethe 
 
 says of lum. Carlyle sees him in this comic 
 
 10 light, treats him in the humorous manner. 
 
 The satirist is a moral agent, often a social 
 
 scavenger, working on a storage of bile. 
 
 The ironist is one thing or another, ac- 
 cording to his caprice. Irony is the humor 
 15 of satire; it may be savage, as in Swift, with 
 a moral object, or sedate, as in Gibbon, with 
 a malicious. The foppish irony fretting to 
 be seen, and the irony which leers, that you 
 shall not mistake its intention, are failures 
 20 in satiric effort pretending to the treasures 
 of ambiguity. 
 
 The humorist of mean order is a refreshing 
 laugher, giving tone to the feelings, and some- 
 times allowing the feelings to be too much 
 25 for him; but the humorist of high has an 
 embrace of contrasts beyond the scope of 
 the comic poet. 
 
 Heart and mind laugh out at Don Quixote,
 
 THE COMIC SPIRIT 137 
 
 and still you brood on him. The juxtaposi- 
 tion of the knight and squire is a comic coa- 
 ce[)tion, the opposition of their natures most 
 humorous. Tliey are as different as the two 
 hemispheres in the time of Columbus, yet 5 
 they touch, and are bound in one, by laughter. 
 The knight's great aims and constant mis- 
 haps, liis chivalrous valiancy exercised on 
 absurd objects, his gmxi sense along the high 
 road of the craziest of expeditions, the com- lo 
 passion he plucks out of derison, and the 
 admirable figure he preserves while stalking 
 through the frantically grotesqiie and bur- 
 lesque assailing him, are in the loftiest moods 
 of humor, fusing the tragic sentiment with 15 
 the comic narrative. The stroke of the great 
 humorist is world-wide, with lights of tragedy 
 in his laughter. 
 
 Taking a living great, though not creative, 
 humorist to guide our description: the skull 20 
 of Yorick is in his hands in our seasons of 
 festival; he sees visions of primitive man 
 capering preposterously under the gorgeous 
 robes of ceremonial. Our souls must be on 
 fire when we wear solemnity, if we would not 25 
 press upon his shrewdest nerve. P'inite and 
 infinite flash from one to the other with him, 
 lending him a two-edged thought that peeps
 
 138 THE IDEA OF COMEDY 
 
 out of his peacefullest lines by fits, like the 
 lantern of the fire-watcher at windows, going 
 the rounds at night. The comportnaent and 
 performances of men in society are to him, by 
 5 the vivid comparison with their mortality, 
 more grotesque than respectable. But ask 
 yourself: 'Is he always to be relied on for 
 justness ? ' He will fly straight as the emis- 
 sary eagle back to Jove at the true Hero. 
 
 10 He will also make as determined a swift de- 
 scent upon the man of his wilful choice, whom 
 we cannot distinguish as a true one. This 
 vast power of his, built up of the feelings and 
 the intellect in union, is often wanting in 
 
 15 proportion and in discretion. Humorists 
 touching upon history or society are given 
 to be capricious. They are, as in the case 
 of Sterne, given to be sentimental; for with 
 them the feelings are primary, as with singers. 
 
 t Comedy, on the other hand, is an interpre- 
 tation of the general mind, and is for that 
 reason of necessity kept in restraint. The 
 French lay marked stress on viesure et gout, 
 and they own how much they owe to Moliere 
 
 25 for leading them in simple justness and taste. 
 We can teach them many things; they can 
 teach us in this. 
 
 The comic poet is in the narrow field, or
 
 THE COMIC SPIRIT 139 
 
 enclosed square, of the society he depicts; 
 and he addresses the still narrower enclosure 
 of men's intellects, with reference to the 
 operation of the social world upon their char- 
 acters. He is not concerned with beginnings 5 
 or endings or surroundings, but with what 
 you are now wea\'ing. To understand his 
 work and value it, you must have a sober 
 liking of your kind, and a sober estimate of 
 our civilized qualities. The aim and business lo 
 of the comic poet are misunderstood, his 
 meaning is not seized nor his point of view 
 taken, when he is accused of dishonoring 
 our nature and being hostile to sentiment, 
 tending to spitefulness and making an un- 15 
 fair use of laughter. Those who detect irony 
 in comedy do so because they choose to see 
 it in life. Poverty, says the satirist, 'has 
 nothing harder in itself than that it makes 
 men ridiculous.' But poverty is never ridic- 20 
 ulcus to comic perception until it attempts 
 to make its rags conceal its bareness in a for- 
 lorn attempt at decency, or foolishly to rival 
 ostentation. Caleb Balderstone, in his en- 
 deavor to keep up the honor of a noble house- 25 
 hold in a state of beggary, is an exquisitely 
 comic character. In the case of 'poor rela- 
 tives,' on the other hand, it is the rich, whom
 
 140 THE IDEA OF COMEDY 
 
 they perplex, that are really comic; and to 
 laugh at the former, not seeing the comedy 
 of the latter, is to betray dulness of vision. 
 
 ,» Humorist and satirist frequently hunt to- 
 5 gether as ironists in pursuit of the grotesque, 
 to the exclusion of the comic. That was an 
 affecting moment in the history of the Prince 
 Regent, when the First Gentleman of Europe 
 burst into tears at a sarcastic remark of Beau 
 
 10 Brummell's on the cut of his coat. Humor, 
 satire, irony, pounce on it altogether as their 
 common prey. The Comic Spirit eyes, but 
 does not touch, it. Put into action, it would 
 be farcical. It is too gross for comedy. 
 
 15 Incidents of a kind casting ridicule on our 
 unfortunate nature, instead of our conven- 
 tional life, provoke derisive laughter, which 
 thwarts the comic idea. But derision is foiled 
 by the play of the intellect. Most of doubtful 
 
 20 causes in contest are open to comic inter- 
 pretation, and any intellectual pleading of 
 a doubtful cause contains germs of an idea 
 of comedy. 
 
 The laughter of satire is a blow in the back 
 
 25 or the face. The laughter of comedy is im- 
 personal and of unrivaled politeness, nearer 
 a smile — often no more than a smile. It 
 laughs through the mind, for the mind di-
 
 THE COlVnC SPIRIT 141 
 
 rects it; and it might be called the humor 
 of the mind. 
 
 One excellent test of th<> civilization of a 
 country, as I have said, I take to be the 
 flourishing of the comic idea and cooiedy; 5 
 and the test of true comedy is that it shall 
 awaken thoughtful laughter. 
 
 If you believe that our civilization is 
 founded in common sense (and it is the first 
 condition of sanity to believe it), you will, lO 
 when contemplating men, discern a Spirit 
 overhead; not more heavenly than the light 
 flashed upward from glassy surfaces, but 
 luminous and watchful; never shooting be- 
 yond them, nor lagging in the rear; so closely 15 
 attached to them that it may be taken for a 
 slavish reflex, luitil its features are studied. 
 It has the sage's brows, and the sunny malice 
 of a faun lurks at the corners of the half- 
 closed lips drawn in an idle wariness of half- 20 
 tension. That slim feasting smile, shaped 
 like the long-bow, was once a big round satyr's 
 laugh, that flung up the brows like a fortress 
 lifted by gunpowder. The laugh will come 
 again, but it will be of the order of the smile, 25 
 finely-tempered, showing sunlight of the .. 
 mind, mental richness rather than noisv ' - 
 enormity. Its common aspect is one of un-
 
 142 THE IDEA OF COMEDY 
 
 solicitous observation, as if surveying a full 
 field and having leisure to dart on its chosen 
 niorsels, without any "fluttering eagerness. 
 Men's future upon earth does not attract 
 5 it; their honesty and shapeliness in the pres- 
 ent does; and whenever they wax out of 
 proportion, overblown, affected, pretentious, 
 bombastical, hypocritical, pedantic, fantas- 
 tically delicate; whenever it sees them self- 
 
 10 deceived or hoodwinked, given to run riot 
 in idolatries, drifting into vanities, congregat- 
 ing in absurdities, planning short-sightedly, 
 plotting dementedly; whenever they are at 
 variance with their professions, and violate 
 
 15 the unwritten but perceptible laws binding 
 them in consideration one to another; when- 
 ever they offend sound reason, fair justice; 
 are false in humility or mined with conceit, 
 • individually, or in the bulk; the Spirit over- 
 
 2u head will look humanely malign, and cast an 
 oblique light on them, followed by volleys 
 of silvery laughter. That is the Comic 
 Spirit. 
 
 Not to distinguish it is to be bull-blind to 
 
 2j the spiritual, and to deny the existence of a 
 mind of man where minds of men are in work- 
 ing conjunction. 
 
 You must, as I have said, believe that our
 
 THE COMIC SPIRIT 143 
 
 state of society is founded in common sense, 
 otherwise you will not be struck by the con- 
 trasts the Comic Spirit perceives, or have it 
 to look to for your consolation. You will, 
 iu fact, be standing in that peculiar oblique 5 
 beam of light, yourself illuminated to the 
 general eye as the very object of chase and 
 doomed quarry of the thing obscure to you. 
 But to feel its presence, and to see it, is your 
 assurance that many sane and solid minds lo 
 are with you in what you are experiencing; 
 and this of itself spares you the pain of satir- 
 ical heat, and the bitter craving to strike 
 heavy blows. You share the sublime of 
 wrath, that would not have hurt the foolish, 13 
 but merely demonstrate their foolishness. 
 Moliere was contented to revenge himself 
 on the critics of the Ecole' des Femines by 
 writing the Critique de VEcole des Femmes, 
 one of the wisest as well as the pla^-fullest 20 
 of studies in criticism. A perception of the 
 Comic Spirit gives high fellowship. You 
 become a citizen of the selecter world, the 
 highest we know of in connection with our 
 old world, which is not supermundane. Look 25 
 there for your unchallengeable upper class! 
 You fiH^l that you are one of this our civilized 
 comnuniity, that you cannot escape from it.
 
 144 THE IDEA OF COMEDY 
 
 and would not if you could. Good hope sus- 
 tains you; weariness does not overwhelm 
 you; in isolation you see no charms for vanity; 
 personal pride is greatly moderated. Nor 
 
 5 shall your title of citizenship exclude you 
 from worlds of imagination or of devotion. 
 The Comic Spirit is not hostile to the sweetest 
 songfuUy poetic. Chaucer bubbles with it; 
 Shakespeare overflows; there is a mild moon's 
 
 10 ray of it (pale with super-refinement through 
 distance from our flesh and blood planet) in 
 Comus. Pope has it, and it is the daylight 
 side of the night half-obscuring Cowper. It 
 is only hostile to the priestly element when 
 
 15 that, by baleful swelling, transcends and over- 
 laps the bounds of its office; and then, in 
 extreme cases, it is too true to itself to speak, 
 and veils the lamp — as, for example, the spec- 
 tacle of Bossuet over the dead body of Moliere, 
 
 20 at which the dark angels may, but men do not, 
 laugh. 
 
 We have had comic pulpits, for a sign that 
 the laughter-moving and the worshipful may 
 be in alliance; I know not how far comic, or 
 
 25 how much assisted in seeming so by the un- 
 expectedness and the relief of its appearance; 
 at least they are popular — they are said to 
 win the ear. Laughter is open to perversion.
 
 THE COIVUC SPIRIT 145 
 
 like other good things; the scornful and the 
 brutal sorts are not unknown to us; but the 
 laughter directed by the Comic Spirit is a 
 harmless wine, conducing to sobriety in the 
 degree that it enlivens. It enters you hke 5 
 fresh air into a study, as when one of the 
 sudden contrasts of the comic idea floods the 
 brain like reassuring daylight. You are cog- 
 nizant of the true kind by feeling that you 
 take it in, savor it, and have what flowers lo 
 live on, natural air for food. That which 
 you give out — the joyful roar — is not the 
 better part; let that go to good-fellowship 
 and the benefit of the lungs. Aristophanes f 
 promises his auditors that, if they will retail .. 15 
 the ideas of the comic poet carefully, as thej | 
 keep dried fruits in boxes, their garments 
 shall smell odoriferous of wisdom throughout* 
 the year. The boast will not be thought an 
 empty one by those who have choice friends 20 
 that have stocked themselves according to 
 his directions. Such treasuries of sparkling 
 laughter are wells in our desert. Sensitive-' 
 ness to the^coraic lauglLis_a step in civiliza- 
 tion. To shrink from being an object of it 25 
 is a step in cultivation. We know the degree 
 of refinement in men by the matter they will 
 laugh at, and the ring of the laugh; but we
 
 146 THE IDEA OF COMEDY 
 
 know likewise that the larger natures are dis- 
 tinguished by the great breadth of their power 
 of laughter, and no one really loving Moliere 
 is refined by that love to despise or be dense 
 
 5 to Aristophanes, though it maj'^ be that the 
 lover of Aristophanes will not have risen to 
 the height of Moliere. Embrace them both, 
 and you have the whole scale of laughter in 
 your breast. Nothing in the world surpasses 
 
 10 in stormy fun the scene in the Frogs, when 
 Bacchus and Xanthias receive their thrash- 
 ings from the hands of business-like Acacus, 
 to discover which is the divinity of the two 
 by his imperviousness to the mortal condition 
 
 15 of pain, and each, under the obligation of not 
 crying out, makes believe that his horrible bel- 
 low — the god's 'ioul iouT being the lustier — 
 means only the stopping of a sneeze, or horse- 
 men sighted, or the prelude to an invocation 
 
 20 to some deity, and the slave contrives that 
 the god shall get the bigger lot of blows. Pas- 
 sages of Rabelais, one or two in Don Quixote, 
 and the supper * in the manner of the ancients ' 
 in Peregrine Pickle, are of a similar cataract 
 
 2,) of laughter. But it is not illuminating; it is 
 not the laughter of the mind. Moliere's 
 laughter, in his purest comedies, is ethereal — 
 as light to our nature, as color to our thoughts.
 
 THE COJVnC SPIRIT 147 
 
 The Misanthrope and the Tartufe have no 
 audible laughter, but the characters are 
 steeped in the comic spirit. The>;; quicken 
 the mind through laughter, from coming 
 outoif the mind~"a nd"tlie" mind accepts them •> 
 because they are clear interpretations of 
 certa in^cT iaptersof "tTTe Boole lymg open bc- 
 fore us all. Between these two stand ShaSe^ 
 speare and Cervantes, with the richer laugh 
 of heart and mind in one; with much of the lo 
 Aristophanic robustness, something of Mo- 
 liere's delicacy. 
 
 The laughter heard in circles not pervaded 
 by the comic idea will sound harsh and soul- 
 less, like versified prose, if you step into them 13 
 with a sense of the distinction. You will 
 fancy you have changed your habitation to 
 a planet remoter from the sun. You may 
 be among powerful brains, too. You will 
 not find poets — or but a stray one, over- 20 
 worsliiped. You will find learned men un- 
 doubtedly, professors, reputed philosophers, 
 and illustrious dilettanti. They have in 
 them, perhaps, every element composing 
 light, except the comic. They read verse, 25 
 they discourse of art; but their eminent facul- 
 ties are not under that vigilant sense of a 
 collective supervision, spiritual and present.
 
 148 THE IDEA OF COMEDY 
 
 which we have taken note of. They build 
 a temple of arrogance; they speak much in 
 the voice of oracles; their hilarity, if it does 
 not dip in grossness, is usually a form of pug- 
 5 nacity. 
 
 Insufficiency of sight in the eye looking 
 outward has deprived them of the eye that 
 should look inward. They have never 
 weighed themselves in the delicate balance 
 
 10 of the comic idea, so as to obtain a suspicion 
 of the rights and dues of the world; and they 
 have, in consequence, an irritable personality. 
 A very learned English professor crushed an 
 argument in a political discussion by asking 
 
 15 his adversary angrily: *Are you aware. Sir, 
 that I am a philologer ? ' 
 
 The practice of polite society w ill help in 
 training them^ and the profe ssor on a sofa, 
 with beautiful ladies on each side of him, 
 
 20 may become their pupil and a scholar in 
 manners without knowing it; he is at least 
 a fair and pleasing spectacle to the comic 
 Muse, But the society named polite is volatile 
 in its adorations, and to-morrow will be pet- 
 
 25 ting a bronzed soldier, or a black African, or 
 a prince, or a spiritualist; ideas cannot take 
 root in its ever-shifting soil. It is besides 
 addicted in self-defence to gabble exclusively
 
 THE COMIC SPIRIT 14Sf 
 
 of the affairs of its rapidly revolving wtffld, 
 as children on a whirli-go-round bestow their 
 attention on the wooden horse or cradle ahead 
 of them, to escape from giddiness and pre- 
 serve a notion of identity. The professor is 5 
 better out of a circle that often confoimds 
 by lionizing, sometimes annoys by abandon- 
 ing, and always confuses. The school that f 
 teaches gently what peril there is lest a culti- 
 vated head should still be coxcomb's, and lO 
 the collisions which may befall high-soaring 
 minds, empty or full, is more to be recom- 
 mended than the sphere of incessant motion ; 
 supplying it with material. 
 
 Lands where the Comic Spirit is obscure 15 
 overhead are rank with raw crops of matter. 
 The traveler accustomed to smooth high- 
 ways and people not covered with burrs and - 
 prickles is amazed, amid so much that is 
 fair and cherishable, to come upon such cu- m 
 rious barbarism. An Englishman paid a 
 visit of admiration to a professor in the land 
 of culture, and was introduced by him to 
 another distinguished professor, to whom he 
 took so cordially as to walk out with him 25 
 alone one afternoon. The first professor, an 
 erudite entirely worthy of the sentiment of 
 scholarly esteem prompting the visit, be-
 
 ISO THE IDEA OF COMEDY 
 
 haved (if we exclude the dagger) with the 
 vindictive jealousy of an injured Spanish 
 beauty. After a short prelude of gloom and 
 obscure explosions, he discharged upon his 
 
 5 faithless admirer the bolts of passionate logic 
 familiar to the ears of flighty caballeros: 
 'Either I am a fit object of your admiration, 
 or I am not. Of these things, one: either you 
 are competent to judge, in which case I stand 
 
 10 condemned by you; or you are incompetent, 
 and therefore impertinent, and you may be- 
 take yourself to your country again, hypo- 
 crite ! ' The admirer was for persuading the 
 wounded scholar that it is given to us to be 
 
 15 able to admire two professors at a time. He 
 was driven forth. 
 
 Perhaps this might have occurred in any 
 country, and a comedy of The Pedant, dis- 
 covering the greedy humanity within the 
 
 2» dusty scholar, would not bring it home to 
 one in particular. I am mindful that it was 
 in Germany, when I observe that the Ger- 
 mans have gone through no comic training 
 to warn them of the sly, wise emanation eye- 
 
 2S ing them from aloft, nor much of satirical. 
 Heinrich Heine has not been enough to cause 
 them to smart and meditate. Nationally, 
 as well as individually, when they are ex-
 
 THE COMIC SPIRIT 151 
 
 cited they are in danger of the grotesque; 
 as when, for instance, they decline to listen 
 to evidence, and raise a national outcry be- 
 cause one of German blood has been con- 
 victed of crime in a foreign country. They 5 
 are acute critics, yet they still wield clubs in 
 controversy. Compare them in this respect 
 with the people schooled in La Bruyere, La 
 Fontaine, Moliere; with the people who have 
 the figures of a Trissotin and a Vadius before lo 
 them for a comic warning of the personal 
 vanities of the caressed professor. It is more 
 than difiference of race. It is the difference 
 of traditions, temper, and style, which comes 
 of schooling. 15 
 
 The French controversialist is a polished 
 swordsman, to be dreaded in his graces and 
 courtesies. The German is Orson, or the 
 mob, or a marching army, in defence of a 
 good case or a bad — a big or a little. His 20 
 irony is a missile of terrific tonnage; sarcasm 
 he emits like a blast from a dragon's mouth. 
 He must and will be Titan. He stamps his 
 foe underfoot, and is astonished that the 
 creature is not dead, .but stinging; for, in 25 
 truth, the Titan is contending, by compari- 
 son, with a god. 
 
 When the Germans lie on their arms, look-
 
 152 THE IDEA OF COMEDY 
 
 ing across the Alsatian frontier at the crowds 
 of Frenchmen rushing to applaud L'Ami 
 Fritz at the Theatre Frangais, looking and 
 considering the meaning of that applause, 
 5 which is grimly comic in its political response 
 to the domestic moral of the play — when the 
 Germans watch and are silent, their force of 
 character tells. They are kings in music, we 
 may say princes in poetry, good speculators 
 
 JO in philosophy, and our leaders in scholarship. 
 That so gifted a race, possessed, moreover, 
 of the stern good sense which collects the 
 waters of laughter to make the wells, should 
 show at a disadvantage, I hold for a proof, 
 
 15 instructive to us, that the discipline of the 
 Comic Spirit is needful to their growth. We 
 see what they can reach to in that great figure 
 of modern manhood, Goethe. They are a 
 growing people; they are conversable as well; 
 
 20 and when their men, as in France, and at 
 intervals at Berlin tea-tables, consent to talk 
 on equal terms with their women, and to listen 
 to them, their growth will be accelerated and be 
 shapelier. Comedy, or, in any form, the Comic 
 
 25 Spirit, will then come to them to cut some 
 figures out of the block, show them the mirror, 
 enliven and irradiate the social intelligence. 
 Modern French comedy is commendable
 
 THE COMIC SPIRIT 153 
 
 for the directness of the study of actual hfe, 
 as far as that (which is but the early step in 
 such a scholarship) can be of service in com- 
 posing and coloring the picture. A conse- 
 quence of this crude, though well-meant, 5 
 realism is the collision of the writers in their 
 scenes and incidents, and in their characters. 
 The Muse of most of them is an Aventuriere. 
 She is clever, and a certain diversion exists 
 in the united scheme for confounding her. 10 
 The object of this person is to reinstate her- 
 self in the decorous world; and either, having 
 accomplished this purpose tlu-ough deceit, she 
 has a nostalgic de la boue that eventually 
 casts her back into it, or she is exposed in is 
 her course of deception when she is about to 
 gain her end. A very good, innocent young 
 man is her victim, or a very astute, goodish 
 young man obstructs her path. This latter 
 is enabled to be the champion of the decorous 20 
 world by knowing the indecorous well. He 
 has assisted in the progress of aventurieres 
 downward; he will not help them to ascend. 
 The world is with him; and certainly it is 
 not much of an ascension they aspire to; 25 
 but what sort of a figure is he .'* The triumph 
 of a candid realism is to show him no hero. 
 You are to admire him (for it must be sup-
 
 154 THE roEA OF COMEDY 
 
 posed that realism pretends to waken some 
 admiration) as a credibly living young man; 
 no better, only a little firmer and shrewder, 
 than the rest. If, however, you think at all, 
 
 5 after the curtain has fallen, you are likely to 
 think that the aventurieres have a case to plead 
 against him. True, and the author has not 
 said anything to the contrary; he has but 
 painted from the life; he leaves his audience to 
 
 10 the reflections of unphilosophic minds upon 
 life, from the specimen he has presented in 
 the bright and narrow circle of a spy-glass. 
 
 I do not know that the fly in amber is of 
 any particular use, but the comic idea en- 
 
 15 closed in a comedy makes it more generally 
 perceptible and portable, and that is an ad- 
 vantage. I'here is a benefit to men in taking 
 the lessons of comedy in congregations, for 
 it enlivens the wits; and to writers it is bene- 
 
 20 ficial, for they must have a clear scheme, and 
 even if they have no idea to present, thej^ 
 must prove that they have made the public 
 sit to them before the sitting, to see the pic- 
 ture. And writing for the stage would be 
 
 25 a corrective of a too-incrusted scholarly style, 
 into which some great ones fall at times. It 
 keeps minor writers to a definite plan, and 
 to English. Many of them now swelling a
 
 THE COMIC SPIRIT 155 
 
 pleihoric market in the composition of novels, 
 in pun-manufactories, and in journalism — 
 attached to the machinery forcing perishable 
 matter on a public that swallows voraciously 
 and groans — might, with encouragement, be 5 
 attending to the study of art in literature. 
 Our critics appear to be fascinated by the 
 quaintness of our public, as the world is when 
 our beast-garden has a new importation of 
 magnitude, and the creature's appetite Is lo 
 reverently consulted. They stipulate for a 
 writer's popularity before they will do much 
 more than take the position of umpires to 
 record his failure or success. Now the pig 
 supplies the most popular of dishes, but it is 15 
 not accounted the most honored of animals, 
 unless it be by the cottager. Our public 
 might surely be led to try other, perhaps 
 finer, meat. It has good taste in song. It 
 might be taught as justly, on the whole (and 20 
 the sooner when the cottager's view of the 
 feast shall cease to be the humble one of our 
 literary critics), to extend this capacity for 
 delicate choosing in the direction of the matter 
 arousing laughter. 23
 
 VARIANT READINGS
 
 VARIANT READINGS 
 
 The present text follows that of the edition 
 of An Essay on Comedy and the Uses of the 
 Comic Spirit published by Charles Scribner's 
 Sons, New York, 1905, save in the matter 
 of punctuation and capital letters, in various 
 points of typKjgraphy, and in pagination; 
 and the edition of New York, 1905, follows 
 that of Archibald Constable and Company, 
 AVestminster, 1897, except in pagination. 
 Wien there is a difference in the wording 
 between the present text and the Essay as 
 it originally appeared, in the New Quarterly 
 Magazine, April, 1877, I give, in the follow- 
 ing list, first the present reading, and then 
 the reading of 1877 in quotation-marks. Dif- 
 ferences in the wording of the Edition de 
 Luxe of 1898 are also recorded. Attention 
 is called in the Notes to cases in which I 
 have rectified Meredith's quotations from 
 other authors. 
 
 78 25. An eminent Frenchman judges, 
 1877: 'An eminent Frenchman, M. Littre, 
 judges/ 
 
 1j9
 
 160. THE IDEA OF COMEDY 
 
 81 23-24. to the joy of the Bacchanalians. 
 1877: 'much to the joy of the Bacchana- 
 lians.' 
 
 83 1-3. Ego limis specto sic per flabellum 
 clanculu m . — Terence. 
 
 In 1877 this was a footnote. 
 
 85 8. neither, with all its realism, 
 1877: 'neither, with all the realism,' 
 
 85 20-21. He did not paint in raw realism. 
 1877: 'But he did not paint in raw real- 
 ism.* 
 
 86 16-17. literary comedies passingly 
 pleasant to read, 
 
 1877: 'literary comedies pleasant to read,' 
 
 87 1-3. he would be comic, as Panurge 
 is comic, but only a Rabelais could set him 
 moving with real animation. 
 
 1877: 'it should be comic, as Panurge is 
 comic' 
 
 87 5-6. If we have lost our youthful relish 
 1877: 'but if we have lost our youthful 
 
 relish ' 
 
 88 4-5. subjects of a special study in the 
 poetically comic. 
 
 1877: 'subjects of a special study in the 
 comic'
 
 VARIANT READINGS 161 
 
 88 10-11. Had Shakespeare lived 
 1877: 'Had he lived' 
 
 88 17-19. to the composition of romantic 
 comedy. He certainly inspired that fine 
 genius. 
 
 1877: 'to the composition of romantic 
 comedy. ' 
 
 93 8. The heroines of comedy are like 
 1877: *No, the heroines of comedy are, 
 like' 
 
 93 17-18. the gradual similarity of their 
 impressions 
 
 1877: 'the similarity of their impressions' 
 
 95 2. and may be tracked into 
 1877: 'and may be traced into' 
 
 95 26-96 10-11. vigor of conception. Scene 
 5, Act 2, of the Misanthrope, [etc.] . . . tend- 
 ing to do disservice. Comedy justly treated, 
 
 1877: 'vigor of conception. But comedy 
 justly treated, ' 
 
 97 7 (see note, p. 211) Veux-tu toute ta 
 vie 
 
 1877: 'Veux-tu toute la vie' 
 
 1897: 'Veux-tu toute la vie' 
 
 1898 (Edition de Luxe): 'Veux-tu toute ta 
 vie*
 
 162 THE IDEA OF COIVIEDY 
 
 100 5. — By evident preparation. 
 1877: 'Palpably, and by evident prepara- 
 tion.' 
 
 100 14-16. correct judgment, a correct ear, 
 readiness of illustration 
 
 1877: 'correct judgment, a correct ear, and 
 readiness of illustration' 
 
 102 16-17. and a type of the superior 
 ladies who do not think, 
 
 1877: 'and a type of the ladies who do not 
 think,' 
 
 102 18-19. it is a lower class, in the pro- 
 portion 
 
 1877: 'it is an inferior class, in the propor- 
 tion' 
 
 107 10-14. He satirized a certain Thais, 
 and his Thais of the Eunuchus of Terence is 
 neither professionally attractive nor repul- 
 sive; his picture of the two Andrians, Chrysis 
 and her sister, 
 
 1877: 'he satirized a certain Thais, but his 
 Thais of the Eunuchus of Terence is neither 
 professionally attractive nor repulsive, and 
 his picture of the two Andrians, Chrysidis and 
 her sister,'
 
 VARIANT READINGS 163 
 
 107 15-17. But the condition of honest 
 women in his day did not permit of the free- 
 dom 
 
 1877: 'But the condition of honest women 
 in his day did not conceive of the freedom ' 
 
 107 24-108 5. has not, apparently, given us 
 the best of the friend of Epicurus. 'Miaoifxevoi, 
 the lover taken in horror, [etc.] . . . frag- 
 ments indicate. 
 
 Of the six comedies 
 
 1877: 'has not apparently given us the 
 best of the friend of Epicurus. 
 'Of the six comedies' 
 
 108 20-21. for Menander's plays are 
 counted by many scores, 
 
 1877: 'for Menander's plays are coimted 
 by hundreds,' 
 
 113 11-15. colere. 
 
 'And to have killed it too wrathfully'! 
 Translating Moliere is like humming an air 
 one has heard performed by an accomplished 
 violinist of the pure tones without flourivsh. 
 
 Orgon awakening 
 
 Tfie Works of George Meredith (Edition de 
 Luxe), Volume 32, Westminster, 1898, p. 4J: 
 
 'colere. 
 'Orgon awakening'
 
 164 THE IDEA OF COMEDY 
 
 114 4-8. Frate Timoteo has a fine Italian 
 priestiy pose: 
 
 DONNA. Credete vol, che 1 Turco passi 
 questo anno in Italia? 
 
 FRATE TIMOTEO. Se voi non fate orazione, 
 si. 
 
 In 1877 this passage constituted a footnote, 
 its place in the text being taken by the sen- 
 teoce: 'Native Italian comedy did not ad- 
 vance beyond the state of satire, and the 
 priests were the principal objects of it.' 
 
 117 21-22. with affected humility of 
 1877: 'with deep humility of 
 
 119 17-18. But the first-bom of common 
 sense, 
 
 1877: *But that first-born of common 
 soose,' 
 
 122 14-16. And it really may be humor- 
 ous, of a kind ; yet it will miss the point 
 
 1877: 'And it really may be humorous, yet 
 it will miss the point' 
 
 122 19-21. He had been the venerable 
 Due Pasquier, in his later years, up to the 
 period of his death. 
 
 1877: * He had been the venerable Duke 
 Pasquier up to the period of his death.'
 
 VARIANT READINGS 165 
 
 122 22-23. a man of profound egoism. 
 1877: 'a man of profound egotism.' 
 
 122 27-28. husband their strength for the 
 sake of livang on. 
 
 1877: 'husband their strength for the mere 
 sake of living on.' 
 
 125 24-28. blowTi away before they were 
 productive. Where would pessimist and 
 optimist be ? They would in any case have a 
 diminished audience. Yet possibly the change 
 of despots, 
 
 1877: 'blown away before they were pro- 
 ductive. Yet possibly the change of despots,' 
 
 128 13-14. and dragged forth particular 
 women, which he did not. 
 
 1877: 'and dragged forth women, which he 
 did not.' 
 
 133 6-7. with asses' ears and the most 
 beautiful sj'lvan haloes. 
 
 1877: 'with asses' ears and the most beauti- 
 ful of sylvan haloes.' 
 
 134 10-11. spare him as little as you shun, 
 1877: 'spare him as little as you shun him,' 
 
 135 6-9. his humor. (I may have 
 dreamed this, or had it suggested to me, for.
 
 166 THE IDEA OF COMEDY 
 
 on referring to Jonathan Wild, I do not find 
 
 it.) Apply the case 
 
 1877: 'his humor. Apply the case' 
 1898: 'his humor. Apply the case' 
 
 136 G-7. judged by philosophers, he is a 
 comic figure by reason of this deficiency. 
 
 1877: 'judged by philosophers, apart from 
 his grandeur as a poet, he is a comic figure, by 
 reason of this ^.ttribute.' 
 
 137 23-24. under the gorgeous robes of 
 ceremonial. 
 
 1877: 'under the gorgeous robes of cere- 
 monials.' 
 
 141 20-21. drawn in an idle wariness of 
 half-tension. 
 
 1877: 'drawn in a sort of idle wariness of 
 half tension.' 
 
 147 1-2. The Misanthrope and the Tar- 
 tuffe have no audible laughter, 
 
 1877: 'The MisaiUhropc and the Tartu ffe 
 have no audible laugh,' 
 
 153 8-10. The Muse of most of them is 
 an Aventuriere. She is clever, and a certain 
 diversion exists in the united scheme for con- 
 founding her. 
 
 1877: 'The Muse of all of them is an Aven- 
 turiere. She is clever, and a certain diversity
 
 VARIANT READINGS 167 
 
 exists in the united scheme for confounding 
 her.' 
 
 154 12-13. circle of a spy-glass. 
 
 I do not know that the fly in amber 
 
 1877: 'circle of a spy-glass. 
 
 'This is the comedy we are now importing. 
 French farces are very funny and altogether 
 preferable. The names of English writers for 
 the stage who have ability to produce good 
 original work will occur to you. In a review 
 of our modern comedies, those of the late Mr. 
 Robertson would deserve honorable mention. 
 Mr. Tom Taylor can write excellent dialogue. 
 Mr. Gilbert, if he could look with less con- 
 tempt at the present condition of the public 
 taste, would write well-considered comic plays 
 of his own. Mr. Burnand has hints of comedy 
 in his most extravagant pieces. I do not 
 know that the fly in amber' 
 
 155 21-22. when the cottager's view of 
 the feast shall cease to be 
 
 1877: 'when the cottager's view of a feast 
 shall cease to be' 
 
 155 23-25. extend tliis capacity for deli- 
 cate choosing in the direction of the matter 
 arousing laughter. 
 
 1877: 'extend this capacity for delicate 
 choosing to the matter arousing laughter.'
 
 NOTES
 
 NOTES 
 
 75 (title). In the edition of 1897 there is 
 a reference from the title to Meredith's 
 footnote: *A lecture delivered at the Lon- 
 don Institution, February 1st, 1877, and 
 afterward published in The Neio Quarterly 
 Magazine for April, 1877/ The London 
 Institution for the Advancement of Litera- 
 ture and the Diffusion of Useful Knowledge, 
 now at Finsbury Circus, London, began its 
 activities in the year 180G, the founders having 
 met on May 23, 1805, with the object of pro- 
 moting, through ample subscriptions, the 
 study of British history, literature, and biog- 
 raphy, and, secondarily, of the natural and 
 mathematical sciences. A useful library had 
 been formed several years before lectures 
 were inaugurated in 1819. Among the early 
 lecturers were: Spurzheim, on Phrenology, 
 182G; Faraday, 1827; Samuel Wesley, Vocal 
 Music, 1828; James Montgomery, A Retro- 
 spect of the History of Literature, 1831; 
 James Sheridan Knowles, Dramatic Poetry, 
 
 171
 
 172 THE IDEA OF COMEDY 
 
 1832; Basil Montagu, The PhOosophy of 
 Laughter, 1832, 1833; Charles Cowden 
 Clarke, The Poetry of the Prose Writers of 
 England, and The Ancient Ballads of Eng- 
 land, 1835. See A Catalogue of the Library 
 of the London Institution . . . preceded by 
 an Historical and Bibliographical Account 
 of tfie Establishment. London, 1835. In 
 1911 the Library contained 100,000 volumes. 
 75 9. the ordeal of the mantle. See the 
 ballad of The Boy and the Mantle in Percy's 
 Reliques of Ancient English Poetry (ed. Wlieat- 
 ley, 1910, 3.3-12). This is No. 29 in Child, 
 The English and Scottish Ballads (1.271 ff.). 
 A boy visits the Court of King Arthur, bring- 
 ing a mantle which will exactly fit a wife 
 who has been faithful, and will betray one 
 who has been unfaithful. 
 
 Stanzas 9-11 (Child): 
 
 Forth came dame Gueneuer, 
 
 to the mantle shee her bed; 
 The ladye shee was new-fangle, 
 
 but yett shee was affrayd. 
 
 When shee had taken the mantle, 
 shee stoode as she had beene madd ; 
 
 It was from the top to the toe 
 as sheeres had itt shread.
 
 NOTES 173 
 
 One while was itt gaule, 
 
 another while was itt greene; 
 
 Another while was itt wadded; 
 ill itt did her beseeme. 
 
 Stanza 13: 
 
 Shee threw downe the mantle, 
 
 that bright was of blee. 
 Fast with a rudd redd 
 
 to her chamber can shee flee. 
 
 Sir Kay's lady is equally or more unfor- 
 tunate. 
 
 Stanza 19: 
 
 Then euery knight 
 
 that was in the kings court 
 Talked, laughed, and showted, 
 
 full oft att that sport. 
 
 Cradock's lady is more successful: the gar- 
 ment merely wrinkles and draws up at her 
 great toe. Whereupon she confesses that she 
 had kissed Cradock before she married him, 
 and then 
 
 The mantle stoode about her 
 right as shee wold. 
 
 75 13-14. A society of cultivated men 
 and women. In Meredith's opinion the 
 conditions have been met at the Court of
 
 174 THE IDEA OF COMEDY 
 
 Louis XIV of France, and, less fully, in 
 Elizabethan England and in the age of Aris- 
 tophanes. But his beUef that Athenian 
 women were present in the theatre when tlie 
 comedies of Aristophanes were presented is 
 open to question. See note on 78 27-28. 
 
 76 7-8. a startling exhibition of the 
 dyer's hand. Compare Shakespeare, Son- 
 net lll.G-7: 
 
 And almost thence my nature is subdued 
 To what it works in, like the dyer's hand. 
 
 76 17-18. C'est une Strange entreprise 
 que celle de faire rire les honnetes gens. 
 
 *It is a strange undertaking, that, of making 
 good people laugh.' — From the speech of Do- 
 rante in Scene 7 of Moliere's one-act play. 
 La Critique de VEcole des Femmes. 
 
 76 24-25. men whom Rabelais would 
 call 'agelasts.* Doubtless Meredith uses 
 this word from Rabelais (c 1490-1553) be- 
 cause he has recently seen it in an article to 
 which he shortly alludes (78 25), Aristophane 
 et Rabelais, by the French lexicographer 
 Littre. Compare the following passage 
 (E. Littre, Litterature et Ilistoire, second 
 edition, 1877, p. 173): 'Et, si Von est Rabelais, 
 on s'enveloppera des conceptions les pltis fan-
 
 NOTES 175 
 
 tasques, des railleries les plus fines, et des gaidoi- 
 series les -plus grossieres; car, s'il en veut aux 
 patepelus et aux porteurs de rogatons, il en veut 
 au^si aux agelastes, c'eM-d-dire a ceux qui ne 
 rient pas.' ('And, if you are Rabelais, you will 
 disguise yourself with the most fantastic con- 
 ceptions, the most delicate raillery, the most 
 vulgar of vernacular phrases; for, if he had an 
 animus agamst the sycophants and news- 
 mongers, he hkewise had one against the 
 agclasts — that is, against those who do not 
 laugh.') 
 
 In the article cited, Littre quotes the 
 first of the two passages in Pantagruel where 
 the word occurs (Rabelais, Oeuvres, ed. Jannet, 
 1873, 4.10, 5.102). The first is (Pantagruel, 
 Book 4, Dedicatory Epistle to Odet, Cardinal 
 de Chastillon): 'Mais la calomnie de certains 
 canihales, viisaiithropes, agelastes, avoit taut 
 contre moy esti atroce et desraisonnh, quelle 
 avoit vaincu ma patience.' ('But the calumny 
 of certain cannibals, misanthropes, non-laugh- 
 ers, had been so fierce and insensate against 
 me that it had conquered my patience.') 
 
 The second is (Book 5, chapter 25) : 'II nefut 
 onques tant severe Caton, ne Crassus Vayeid tant 
 agelaste, ne Timon Athenicn tant misanthrope, 
 ne Heraclitus tant ahhorrant du propre humain.
 
 176 THE IDEA OF COMEDY 
 
 qui est rire, qui n'eu^t perdu contenance, voyant 
 au son de la musique tant soudaine, en cinq cens 
 diversitez si soudain se mouvoir, desmarcher, 
 sauUer, voltiger, gamhader, toumoyer.' ('Nor 
 was Cato ever so severe, nor old Crassus such a 
 non-laugher, nor Athenian Timon so misan- 
 thropic, nor Heraclitus so averse from the 
 action peculiar to man, which is laughing, that 
 they would not have lost their gravity at the 
 sight, when, at the sound of the music so sud- 
 den, [the cavaliers, queens, and nymphs] so 
 suddenly moved in five different directions, 
 deployed, jumped, leaped up, skipped, twisted 
 about.') 
 
 Rabelais forms agelaste, agelastes ('never- 
 laughing'), after the Greek word dyiXaaroi 
 ('not laughing,' 'grave,' 'gloomy'), which oc- 
 curs in the Homeric Hymn to Ceres (line 200) 
 and in Aeschylus {Agamejnnon 794), 
 
 76 27-28. which, if you prick them, do 
 not bleed. Compare Shakespeare, Merchant 
 of Venice 3.1.67-68: 'If you prick us, do we 
 not bleed.? If you tickle us, do we not 
 laugh.?' 
 
 77 6. agelastic. 'One that never laughs'; 
 so Henry Cockeram, The English Dictionarie, 
 or a New Interpreter of Hard English Words 
 (1623), second edition, 1626.
 
 NOTES 177 
 
 77 6-7. misogelastic, and the fu(T6ye\(ai, 
 
 the laughter-hating. 'Misogelastic,' and 
 
 similarly ' hypergelasts ' (77 11-12), seem to 
 
 be the coinage of Meredith, or at all events 
 
 not to be derived from either Rabelais or 
 
 Aristophanes. For nKxSyeXwi see Aulas Gellius, 
 
 ed. Hosius (1903), 15.20: 'Alexander autern 
 
 Aetolus hos de Euripide versus composuii: 
 
 6 5' ^Ava^ayopov Tp6<})iiJX)% x*">'' <TTpt<t>vbi fi^v 
 
 ifjLoiye irpoaenreiv 
 Kal tuffdyeXus Kal ruOd^eiv ovSi Tap' oT^'oi' 
 
 dXX' 5 Ti ypd^ai, ToOr' Siv fifKiros Kal Seipijvwi' 
 
 Compare Aulus Gellius, translated by W. 
 Beloe (1795), 3.179: 'And Alexander Aetolus 
 wrote these lines on Euripides: 
 
 Although thy pupil, Anaxagoraa, 
 
 Doth for a grave and churlish peasant pass. 
 
 Let him but write, and quickly you shall 
 
 know 
 What honied strains from chanting sirens 
 
 flow.' 
 
 77 12-13. the excessive laughers, . . . 
 who are as clappers of a bell. Shakespeare 
 makes Don Pedro say of Benedick {Mtich 
 Ado 3.2.8-13): 'From the crown of his head 
 to the sole of his foot, he is all mirth. ... He
 
 178 THE IDEA OF COMEDY 
 
 hath a heart as sound as a bell, and his tongue 
 is the clapper; for what his heart thinks his 
 tongue speaks.' 
 
 77 17. C'est n' estimer rien qu'es timer 
 tout le monde. M.o\iere, Misanthrope 1.1.58. 
 
 77 22. The Rape of the Lock. See Ed- 
 ward Bensly in the Cambridge History of Eng- 
 lish Literature (9 . 78) : ' Young Lord Petre, by 
 snipping a lock of Miss Fermor's hair, had 
 caused ill-feeling between the families. Pope 
 was invited by liis friend Caryll to allay this 
 by taking the theme for a playful poem. The 
 Rape of the Lock, in its first form, was written 
 within a fortnight, and published anony- 
 mously in Lintot's Miscellayiy, 1712. For the 
 genre Pope was indebted to Boileau's Lutrin, 
 as Boileau had been to Tassoni's Secchia 
 Rapita; but in its blending of mock-heroic, 
 satire, and delicate fancy, this exquisite speci- 
 men of filigree work, as Hazlitt called it, re- 
 mains unmatched. Pope's hand was never 
 happier than in adding to the original sketch 
 his machinery of sylphs and gnomes.' 
 
 77 23. Le Tartuffe. Compare the title- 
 page of the first edition: Le Tartuffe ou I'lm- 
 posteur, comMie de J.-B. P. de Molihe. Im- 
 primS aiix despens de Vaxdheur, et se vend a
 
 NOTES 179 
 
 Paris, chez Jean Ribou, au Palais, vis-d-nis 
 de Veglise de la Sainte-Chapelle, a I'image S. 
 Louis. 1G69. {The Tartujfe, or the Impostor. 
 A Comedj^ by J.-B. P. de Moliere. Printed at 
 tlie expense of the author, and to be had in 
 Paris of Jean Ribou, at the Palace, opposite 
 the church of the Sainte-Chapelle, by the im- 
 age of Saint Louis. 1669.) See pp. 112-114. 
 
 78 8-9. Comedy . . . one of the . . . 
 
 Muses. Strictly speaking, one could hardly 
 term comedy a 'Muse.' In later times, the 
 Greeks regarded Thalia as the Muse of com- 
 edy. 
 
 78 10. in her origin. The precise origin 
 of ancient classical comedy is a matter of dis- 
 jHite. Aristotle observes that the invention of 
 comedy was claimed by the Dorians of Me- 
 gara, and likewise by the Dorians of Sicily; he 
 adds that at all events comedy originated in 
 the improvisations of the leaders in the Phallic 
 song and dance, noting that the custom of the 
 Phallic procession has been preserved up to his 
 time in many cities. See his Poetics, chapters 
 3. 4 (Aristotle On the Art of Poetry, tr. Cooper, 
 pp. 8, 9, 12). The Phallic procession was as- 
 sociated with the worship of Dionysus. In 
 The Origin of Attic Comedy, London, 1914, 
 F. M. Cornford argues from a study of Aris-
 
 180 THE IDEA OF COMEDY 
 
 tophanes that the type arose from a marriage 
 ritual, ia which the risen god Dionysus typified 
 the revival of vegetation when the winter is 
 past (he being the fructifying principle), and 
 which simulated 'the union of Heaven and 
 Earth for the renewal of all life in Spring.' 
 
 78 12. The light of Athene over the 
 head of Achilles. See Hiad 18.203-227; in 
 the translation of Lang, Leaf, and Myers: 
 'But Achilles dear to Zeus arose, and around 
 his strong shoulders Athene cast her tasseled 
 aegis, and around his head the bright goddess 
 set a crown of a golden cloud, and kindled 
 therefrom a blazing flame. . . . Thus from the 
 head of Achilles soared that blaze toward the 
 heavens. And he went and stood beyond the 
 wall beside the trench. . . . There stood he 
 and shouted aloud, and afar off Pallas Athene 
 uttered her voice, and spread terror unspeak- 
 able among the men of Troy. . . . And the 
 charioteers were amazed when they saw the 
 unwearying fire blaze fierce on the head of the 
 great-hearted son of Peleus, for the bright- 
 eyed goddess Athene made it blaze.' 
 
 78 13. the birth of Greek tragedy. 
 
 Mereditli would suggest that ancient tragedy 
 began witli the Iliad, and the notion agrees
 
 NOTES 181 
 
 with that of Aristotle in the Poetics, chapter 
 4 (see my translation, p. 12, and Index s. v. 
 'IHad'). Yet according to Aristotle {ibid., p. 
 13), tragedy proper, as distinguished from 
 tragic tales in general, goes back to the im- 
 provisations of the poet-leaders in the dithy- 
 rambic chorus of satyrs. Consequently the 
 origin of tragedy, hke that of comedy, may 
 be traced to the cult of Dionysus. In the 
 current theory of its evolution, tragedy arose 
 in the ritual of the dying god, which typ'i- 
 fied the death of the year, and of vegetation, 
 in the winter season. (See William Ridge- 
 way, The Origin of Tragedy, Cambridge, 1910.) 
 
 78 15. Son of the Wine-jar . . . Dio- 
 nysus. See Aristophanes, Frogs 22: 
 
 5t' iyC) fJikv S)v Ativucroj, vibi "Zrajiviov. 
 
 ('When I, who am Dionysus, son of — Wine- 
 jar.') The comic efiFect arises from the sub- 
 stitution of 'Wine-jar,' when the expected 
 phrase would be 'Son of Zeus,' or the like. 
 
 78 17-18. Our second Charles ... of 
 like benignity. Compare Addison's account 
 of the dramatist D'Urfey, in the Guardian for 
 May 28, 1713: 'I myself remember King 
 Charles the Second leaning on Tom D'Urfey 's 
 shoulder more than once, and humming over a
 
 182 THE IDEA OF COMEDY 
 
 song with him. It is certain that monarch 
 was not a httle supported by Joy to Great 
 Caesar, which gave the Whigs such a blow as 
 they were not able to recover that whole 
 reign.' 
 
 78 18-19. our Comedy of Manners. 
 
 See George H. Nettleton, English Drama of the 
 Restoration and Eighteenth Century, New York, 
 1914, chapters 5-8, pp. 71-140; Alexandre 
 Beljame, Le Public et les Hommes de Lettres en 
 Angleterre au Dix-huiiieme Siecle, Paris, 1897, 
 pp. 29-35, 48-56; Cambridge History of Eng- 
 lish Literature 8.121-9.01. And compare note 
 on 110 25-26. 
 
 78 25. An eminent Frenchman. In 
 
 1877 Meredith was more specific, adding: 'M. 
 Littre.' Maximilien Paul Emile Littre (1801- 
 1881), translator of Hippocrates, author of the 
 great Didionnaire de la Langue Frangaise, 
 professor of history and geography, states- 
 man, positivist and friend of Comte — and 
 hence of special interest to Meredith. He was 
 a man of extraordinary erudition and patience, 
 and no mean literary critic. The work to 
 which Meredith here alludes has been cited 
 above (76 24-25); I translate the passage 
 which he has in mind (p. 152) : 'In the case of
 
 NOTES 183 
 
 Rabelais, we have to do with a book, held in 
 the hand — and the reader is alone. ... In 
 the case of Aristophanes, on the contrary, we 
 have to do with a theatre. An immense public 
 is assembled; women are present; the gross 
 words fall on this crowd, which laughs and 
 does not blush. This cjTiicism of the public 
 long since forced me to abate a too favorable 
 opinion as to the level of Hellenic develop- 
 ment. In the sphere of morals all things are 
 interrelated; and there cannot have been much 
 delicacy elsewhere when there was so httle 
 here. ['Tout se tient dans les choses morales; et 
 il ne se pent quit y ait beaucoup de dSlicatesse 
 dans le reste, quand il y en avail si pen en 
 eeci.'] My observation is immediately con- 
 firmed in the sixteenth century, which took 
 such delight in obscenity both at the theatre 
 and in books, and which so readily united 
 violence, perfidy, and cruelty.' 
 
 78 27-28. men and women who sat 
 through an Athenian comic play. That 
 women were present at these performances 
 is maintained by A. E. Haigh, The Attic 
 Theatre, Third Edition, revised and in part 
 rewritten by A. W. Pickard-Cambridge, Ox- 
 ford, 1907, chapter 7, pp. 324-329. It is dis- 
 puted by B. B. Rogers in his edition of the
 
 184 THE IDEA OF COIVIEDY 
 
 Ecclesiazusae of Aristophanes, Introduction, 
 pp. xxix-xxxv. Rogers would seem to have 
 the better of the argument, 
 
 79 5—6. plain-speaking . . . festival of 
 the god. With this and subsequent remarks 
 of Meredith on Attic comedy compare Aris- 
 tophanes, Acharnians 490 flf. (tr. B. B. Rog- 
 ers); Alfred and Maurice Croiset, Histoire de 
 la Litterature Grecque 3.465-472; Maurice 
 Croiset, Aristophanes and the Political Par- 
 ties at Athens, tr. James Loeb. 
 
 79 13. Wycherley's Country Wife. Wil- 
 liam Wycherley (1640.^-1716), for some years 
 'the central figure of Restoration comedy,' 
 in The Country Wife (1673.?) 'reveals at once 
 perhaps the height of his dramatic power and 
 the depth of his moral degradation. Bor- 
 rowing from Moliere's VEcole des Femmes 
 sometliing of the general situation for his main 
 plot, he transformed the real ingenue Agnes 
 into Mrs. Pinchwife, whose nominal purity at 
 the outset is due to lack of opportunity to sin. 
 The progress of her corruption when she is 
 transferred from the country to the fashion- 
 able world of London is detailed without sym- 
 pathy either for the degraded wife or for the 
 dishonored husband. Homer, who prosecutes
 
 NOTES 185 
 
 his vices through an assumption perhaps the 
 most atrocious in all Restoration comedy, is 
 Wycherley's real hero. Ingenuity is prosti- 
 tuted in the service of animal license. . . . 
 And when, at the end of the play, Pinchwife 
 remains imconscious of the ruin wrought, and 
 the curtain falls to a mocking dance of cuck- 
 olds, one sees the gulf between even the lowest 
 decadence of EHzabethan drama and what the 
 Restoration age termed "comedy." ' (Nettle- 
 ton, English Drama of the Restoration, pp. 78- 
 80.) 
 
 79 18-21. anti-papists . . . Smithfield 
 . . . lowing herds. Smithfield (otherwise 
 'Smootlifield'). an historic cattle-market in 
 London, mentioned in 1150, has since 1808 
 been the seat of the Central Meat Market, 
 London, covering more than three acres. In 
 the twelfth century, Smoothfield, lying out- 
 side the city walls, served as an open play- 
 ground and promenade. The spot is associ- 
 ated with public executions, and in particular 
 with the cruel persecutions of the Protestants 
 in the reign of Queen Mary the Catholic. 
 Here on October 16, 1555, Ridley and Latimer, 
 and on March 21, 1556, Cranmer, were burnt 
 at the stake. About 300 are said to have been 
 burnt in this persecution.
 
 186 THE IDEA OF COMEDY 
 
 80 7. as Pascal says. Meredith mis- 
 quotes liim: 'Comme nn point fixe fait re- 
 marqiier V emportement des aiitres.' I have re- 
 stored the v/ords of Pascal in the text, and here 
 subjoin the passage with its context (Pascal, 
 Pensess, ed. Brunschwicg, 1904, 2.291-292 
 — Brunschwicg, No. 382; Ha vet, section 6, 
 No. 24) : 'Qvund tout se remue igalement, rien ne 
 se remue en apparence, comme en un vaisseau. 
 Quand tou^ vont vers le dehordement, nul n'y 
 semble alter; celui qui s'arrete fait remarquer 
 V emportement des aidres, comme 2in point 
 fixe.* C^Vlien everything is equally in mo- 
 tion, apparently nothing moves — as on ship- 
 board. When all proceed toward disorder, 
 no one seems to be going that way; he who 
 pauses makes evident the excess of all the 
 rest, as a fixed point.') 
 
 80 11. Hoyden. See the comedy of Sir 
 John [Vanbrugh, _ architect and playwright. 
 The Relapse, or Virtue in Danger (1696-^pub. 
 1G97) 4.1, where Miss Hoyden says to young 
 Fashion: 'Sir, I never disobey my father in 
 anything but eating of green gooseberries.' 
 The Relapse was Adapted, and expurgated, by 
 Richard Brinsley Sheridan in A Trip to Scar- 
 borough (1777)j^J
 
 NOTES 187 
 
 80 20. Dulness. To Meredith, this crea- 
 ture of the imagination is male. Yet compare 
 Pope, Dunciad 1.9-16: 
 
 In eldest time, ere mortals writ or read. 
 Ere Pallas issued from the Thund'rer's head, 
 Dulness o'er all p)ossessed her ancient right. 
 Daughter of Chaos and eternal Night; 
 Fate in their dotage this fair idiot gave. 
 Gross as her sire, and as her mother grave. 
 Laborious, heavy, busy, bold, and bhnd. 
 She ruled, in native Anarchy, the mind. 
 Still her old Empire to restore she tries. 
 For, born a Goddess, Dulness never dies. 
 
 And see the note to Dunciad 1.12, Pope 
 and Warburton, 1743: 'I wonder the learned 
 Scriblerus has omitted to advertise the reader, 
 at the opening of this poem, that Dulness here 
 is not to be taken contractedly for mere 
 stupidity, but in the enlarged sense of the 
 word, for all slowness of apprehension, short- 
 ness of sight, or imperfect sense of things.' 
 
 80 20-21. dogs on the Nile-banks. 
 The story goes back to Aelian {Variae His- 
 toriae 1.4): 'And that habit of the Egyptian 
 dog is clever; for they do not carelessly and 
 freely take one continuous drink from the 
 river — bending over and lapping as much as
 
 188 THE IDEA OF COMEDY 
 
 they crave, — since they suspect the animals in 
 it. Instead, they run along the bank, again 
 and again furtively drinking what little they 
 can snatch. And thus, satisfying themselves 
 by degrees, they manage to escape destruc- 
 tion, and hkewise quench their thirst.' See 
 also Phaedrus, Fables 1.25, and Pliny, Natural 
 History 8.61; and compare Jolm Marston, 
 The Tragedy of Sopfwnisba 3.1. 1.201-203: 
 
 SYPHAX. I'll use this Zanthia, 
 And trust her as our dogs drink dangerous Nile 
 (Only for thirst), that fly the crocodile. 
 
 81 1. Mr. Aimwell. Aimwell, a char- 
 acter in The Beaux' Stratagem (1707) of George 
 Farquhar, in the last (fifth) scene of the last 
 act learns that, his elder brother being just 
 dead, he is now Lord Aimwell, and may openly 
 wed Dorinda, the daughter of Lady Bountiful. 
 
 81 10-11. follow up the shot ... by 
 hurling the pistol after it. This sounds 
 like the humor of Punch; two of the editors of 
 Punch, Taylor and Burnand, were among 
 Meredith's friends (see note on 154 12, and 
 The Letters of George Meredith, 1912, Index) 
 Compare Boswell's Johnson (Oxford Edition 
 1.398; cf. 2.537): 'There is no arguing with 
 Jolmson; for when his pistol misses fire, he
 
 NOTES 189 
 
 knocks you down with the butt end of it.' 
 Boswell says the conceit is adapted from one 
 of Gibber's comedies, but Birkbeck Hill in 
 his edition of Boswell does not identify the 
 source. 
 
 81 26-27. the cavalier in the Mall. 
 
 The Mall, a walk bordered by trees, in St. 
 James' Park, London, was a fashionable 
 promenade in the seventeenth and eighteenth 
 centuries — originally an alley where the game 
 of mall, involving the use of ball and mallet, 
 was played. Compare The Mall, or tJie Modish 
 Lovers (1664), by J. D. (Jolm Dryden ?) in the 
 Works of Jolm Dryden, ed. Scott-Saintsbury, 
 8 (1884). 507; in act 4, sc. 2, 'Enter Ccurtwell 
 [a brisk gallant, lately arrived from Spain] 
 and Perigreen from fighting, Perigreen wounded: 
 Court. Rash boy ! to force me to this rude- 
 ness; for 'twas not manhood in me thus to 
 hurt thee; alas, thou cou'dst not fight; thou 
 hadst no skill to hold thy weapon for thy own 
 advantage.' See also Henry Fielding, Love in 
 Several Masques (1727) 4.4. 
 
 82 11-12. Laughter holding both his 
 sides. From Milton, U Allegro 32. 
 
 82 18. a sagacious essayist. I have not 
 identified the writer to whom Meredith al-
 
 190 THE IDEA OF COMEDY 
 
 ludes. Leigh Hunt, referring to Wyeherlej's 
 marriage, says {Dramatic Works of Wyclierley, 
 Congreve, Vanhrxigh, and Farquhar, 1866, 
 p. xiii): 'The result of this dramatic exordium 
 was the usual termination of comedy — matri- 
 mony; and (as Dennis might have said) 
 something not so pleasant afterward, at the 
 fall of the curtain.' See John Dennis, Some 
 Remarlcable Passages of the Life of Mr. Wycli- 
 erley, in A New Collection of Miscellanies in 
 Prose and Verse, London, 1725. 
 
 83 1. Ego limis. From the speech of 
 Chaerea in Terence, Eunuchus 601-602: 
 
 interea somnus virginem opprimit. ego limis 
 specto sic per flabellum clanculum. 
 
 ('Meanwhile sleep overcomes the maiden. I 
 furtively take a squint at her, thus, through 
 the fan.') 
 
 83 10-12. Elia . . . bewails the extinc- 
 tion. See Charles Lamb, On the Artificial 
 Comedy of the Last Century {The Works of 
 Charles and Mary Lamb, ed. Lucas, 2.141 ff.), 
 an essay first published in the London Maga- 
 zine, April, 1822. Meredith may have seen 
 it in Leigh Hunt's collection of the dramatic 
 works of Wj'cherley , Congreve, Vanbrugh, and 
 Farquhar ('a new edition,' London, 1866),
 
 NOTES 191 
 
 which contains the Restoration comedies with 
 which Meredith seems to be most familiar. 
 
 83 14. Cleopatra's Nile-barge. See 
 
 Shakespeare, Aivtony and Cleopatra 2.2.191- 
 223 (a passage based upon North's transla- 
 tion, from the French of Amyot, of The Life 
 of Marcus Antonius by Phitarch). 
 
 83 18-19, 'fictitious, half-believed per- 
 sonages.' Meredith quotes from the essay 
 just mentioned (Lamb, Works, ed. Lucas, 
 2.142). 
 
 83 25, the Lurewells and the Plyants. 
 
 Referring to the character of Lady Lurewell in 
 Farquhar's The Constant Couple, or a Trip to 
 the Jubilee (1C99), and its sequel. Sir Harry 
 Wildair (1701), and to that of Sir Paul Ply- 
 ant, *an uxorious, foolish old knight,' in Con- 
 greve's The Double-Dealer (1693). 
 
 84 1-3. Pinchwifes, Fondlewifes, Miss 
 Prue, Peggy, Hoyden. Pinchwife is the 
 husband in Wycherley's The Country Wife 
 (see note on 79 13), who thinks it necessary 
 to watch his wife, Margery Pinchwife, very 
 closely after introducing her to town society; 
 Fondlewife, an uxorious banker in Con- 
 greve's The Old Bachelor (1693); Miss Prue, 
 'Daughter to Foresight by a former wife, a
 
 192 THE IDEA OF COMEDY 
 
 silly, awkward country girl,' in Congreve's 
 Love for Love (1695); Peg, 'Maid to Lady 
 Wishfort,' in Congreve's Tlie Way of the World 
 (1700); for Hoyden, see note on 80 11. 
 
 84 3. Millamant. See Nettleton, Eng- 
 lish Drama of the Restoration, pp. 130-131: 
 'Yet if, in Dryden's words, Tlie Way of the 
 World "had but moderate success, though it 
 deserves much better," the judgment of pos- 
 terity has gone far to correct the error. 
 Millamant, Congreve's most brilliant char- 
 acter creation, has commanded Hazlitt's 
 eulogy [Lectures on the English Comic Writers, 
 Lecture 4] and George Meredith's tribute to 
 the "perfect portrait of a coquette" [see 98 
 6-7]. They had been anticipated, however, by 
 an earlier critic, her lover Mirabell: "I hke 
 her with all her faults; nay, like her for her 
 faults. Her follies are so natural, or so art- 
 ful, that they become her; and those afifecta- 
 tions which in another woman would be 
 odious, serve but to make her more agree- 
 able" (1 .2). She enters with a flash, and goes 
 off in a blaze of wit. Even amid the ceaseless 
 pyrotechnics of Congreve her departure seems 
 like the extinction of a brilliant rocket. Yet 
 Millamant is an artificial creation — beautiful 
 and fragile as Dresden china. She has the
 
 NOTES 193 
 
 wit, but not the humanity, of Shakespeare's 
 Beatrice.' 
 
 84 5-6. fine lady's wardrobe . . . aban- 
 doned Abigail. The name Abigail, signify- 
 ing a waiting-woman (probably from 1 
 Samuel 25), first came into general use in 
 England through The Scornful Lady (1609.^) 
 of Beaumont and Fletcher. Meredith refers 
 to the custom of 'fine ladies' who give tlieir 
 cast-off garments to their maids. Compare 
 Smollett, Ilumyhrey Clinker (1771; ed. Hen- 
 ley, 1899, 1.75): 'An antiquated Abigail, 
 dressed in her lady's cast clothes.' 
 
 84 9. Punch and Judy. See Encyclo- 
 paedia Britannica, eleventh edition, 22.648- 
 649 (article on Punch by R. Mortimer 
 Wheeler), and Chambers, The Mediaeval Stage 
 2.159-160. 
 
 84 16-17. the smell of blood in our 
 nursery-songs. Compare the story of Jack 
 the Giant-Killer, where the giant roars: 
 
 Fi, fee, fo, fum ! 
 
 I smell the blood of an English man ! 
 
 Be he alive, or be he dead, 
 
 I'll grind his bones to make me bread ! 
 
 84 23-25. realism . . . bettering state. 
 
 'ReaUsm in the writing is carried to such a
 
 194 THE IDEA OF COMEDY 
 
 pitch in The Old Bachelor that husband and 
 wife use imbecile connubial epithets to one 
 another,' (Meredith's footnote.) See Con- 
 greve, Tlie Old Bachelor 4 . 1 (end). 
 
 84 25-27. The same of an immoral 
 may be said of realistic exhibitions of a 
 vulgar society. I have inserted an 'as' in 
 brackets after 'said'; but the imperfect con- 
 struction may be improved in such a way as 
 to convey either of two meanings: The same 
 may be said of realistic exhibitions of an im- 
 moral society as may be said of realistic ex- 
 hibitions of a vulgar one. Or: What is urged 
 against realistic exhibitions of an immoral 
 society applies to realistic exliibitions of a 
 vulgar one. — I incline to the latter interpre- 
 tation. 
 
 85 1. ce qui remue . . . ce qui emeut. 
 
 Did Meredith take this from Sainte-Beuve, 
 whom he has read with some diligence, or 
 from Joubert, whom Sainte-Beuve quotes? 
 See Sainte-Beuve, Causeries du Lundi (1852) 
 1 . 136 : ' M. Joubert adore Venthousiasme, mais 
 il le distingue de V explosion, et vieme de la 
 verve, qui n'est que de seconds qualiie dans Vin- 
 spiration, et qui remue, tandis que Vautre 
 emeut.' ('M. Joubert worships enthusiasm.
 
 NOTES 195 
 
 but he distinguishes it from vehemence, and 
 even from verve, which is a quahty of but 
 second importance in inspiration, and which 
 agitates us, whereas the other rnoves us.') 
 Compare Pensecs de J. Joubcrt, 1909, p. 303 
 (No. 6): 'Uentliousiasine est toujours calme, 
 toujours letit, et rest intime. L' explosion iiest 
 point V entJiousiasme, ct riest point causee par 
 lid: eUe vient (Tun etat plus violent. II ne faut 
 pas non plus confondre V enthousiasme avec la 
 verve : elle remue, et it emeut; elle est, apres lui, 
 ce quit y a de meilleur pour V inspiration. 
 Boileau, Horace, Aristophane, eurent de la 
 verve; La Fojitainc, Menandre, et Virgile, le plus 
 doux et le plus exquis enthousiasme qui Jut 
 jamais.^ ('Enthusiasm is ever calm, ever 
 leisurely, and remains inward. Vehemence is 
 not enthusiasm, and does not result there- 
 from; it proceeds from a more violent state. 
 Further, we must not confuse enthusiasm with 
 verve; this last agitates us, whereas that sets 
 us in motion; after enthusiasm, it is verve that 
 offei-s what is best for inspiration. Boileau, 
 Horace, Aristophanes, had verve; La Fon- 
 taine, Menander, and Virgil, the most delicate 
 and exquisite enthusiasm that ever existed.') 
 
 85 4. remuage. 1h.G condition oi agitating 
 us.
 
 196 THE IDEA OF COMEDY 
 
 85 15. as John Stuart Mill pointed out. 
 
 I have found no passage in Mill which Mere- 
 dith directly echoes, though Mill frequently 
 contrasts French and English manners and 
 literature, emphasizing the social qualities of 
 the French, and the direct relation between 
 their knowledge of life and their writings. 
 See, for example. Mill's essays on Armand 
 Carrel and Alfred de Vigny (in DisserUitions 
 and Discussions, New York, 1882, 1.259, 261, 
 328, 333, etc.). 
 
 85 17-18. the Horatian precept. See 
 
 Horace, Ars Poetica 156-157: 
 
 aetatis cuiusque notandi sunt tibi mores, 
 mobilibusque decor naturis dandus et annis. 
 
 ('You must mark the characteristics of each 
 several period of life, and must give the fitting 
 traits to the changing dispositions and shifting 
 years.') Meredith extends the application to 
 different ages in history. But compare the 
 succeeding lines in Horace; Shakespeare, As 
 You Like It 2.7.136-166; and Cornelia G. 
 Harcum, Tlie Ages of Man, in the Classical 
 Weekhj 7.114-118 (Feb. 7, 1914). 
 
 85 25. Due de Montausier. 'Tallemant 
 des Reaux, in his rough portrait of the Duke,
 
 NOTES 197 
 
 shows the fouudation of the character of AI- 
 ceste.' (Meredith's footnote.) The reference 
 is to Charles de Sainte-Maure (1610-1690), at 
 first Baron de Salles, then Marquis, and finally 
 Due de Montausier. Meredith probably saw 
 the 'portrait' as quoted by Sainte-Beuve in 
 Tallemant et Bussy in Causeries du Lundi 
 (1857) 13.187; see Tallemant des Reaux 
 ^1619-1692), Les Historiettes, ed. Mon- 
 merque and Paris, 1864, 2.528: 'E71 effect, eest 
 un homme tout d'une -piece; Mme de Rambou- 
 illet dit quil estfou a force d'estre sage. Jamais 
 ■il ny en eut un qui east plus de hesoing de sac- 
 rifier aux Graces. II crie, il est rude, il rompt en 
 visiere, et s'il gronde quelquun, il luy remet 
 devant les yeux toutes les iniquitez passies. 
 Jamais homme n'a tant servy a me guerir de 
 Vhumeur de disputer.' ('In fact, the man is all 
 of a piece. Madame de RambouUlet says that 
 he is mad by virtue of his wisdom. Never 
 was there any one who had greater need 
 of sacrificing to the Graces. He shouts, he is 
 blunt, he insults you to your face, and, when 
 he chides, he openly revives all your past 
 misdeeds. Never man served so well to cure 
 me of the humor of arguing.') 
 
 85 26. the Misanthrope. Alceste, in 
 Moliere's comedy, Le Misanthrope (1666).
 
 198 THE IDEA OF COMEDY 
 
 85 26-27. according to Saint-Simon, 
 the Abbe Roquette. See MSmoires de Saint- 
 Simon {Les Grands Ecrivains de la France), 
 Paris, 1879-1916, 14.293-294: 'II mourut 
 alora [23 Feb., 1707] un vieux iveque qui, toute 
 sa vie, n'avoit rien oublie pour faire fortune et 
 eire un personnuge; cetoit Roquette, homme de 
 fort peu, qui avoit attrape V eveche d'Auiun, et 
 qui, a la Jin, ne pouvant viieux, gouvernoit les 
 Stats de Bourgogne a force de souplesses et de 
 manage autour de Monsieur le Prince. II avoit 
 ete de toutes les couleurs: a Mrae de Longue- 
 ville, a M. le Prince de Conti son frere, au car- 
 dinal Mazarin; surtout abandonnS aux jhuites; 
 tout Sucre et tout miel, US aux femmes impor- 
 tantes de ces temps-Id, et entrant dans toutes les 
 intrigues; toutefois grand bSat. C'est sur lui 
 que Moliere prit son Tartxiffe, et personne ne 
 sy meprit.' ('There died then [Feb. 23, 1707] 
 an old bishop who all his life never forgot 
 how to make a success and be a great figure; 
 it was Roquette, a man of very little conse- 
 quence, who had got his hand on the bishopric 
 of Autun, and who in the end, for want of any- 
 tliing better, governed the dominions of 
 Bourgogne by means of wiles and intrigue in 
 the circle of Monsieur the Prince. He had 
 served under all the colors — under Madame de
 
 NOTES 199 
 
 Longueville, under Monsieur the Prince de 
 Conti, under Cardinal JNIazarin; above all, 
 given over to the Jesuits; all sugar, all honey, 
 intimate with the important women of those 
 times, and entering into all the intrigues; 
 nevertheless a blissful saint. He it was whom 
 INIoUere took as model for his Tartuffe, nor did 
 any one fail to understand this.') I translate 
 the footnote of A. de Boislisle {ibid. 14.294- 
 295): *As to the "original" of Tartuffe, one 
 may consult, in addition to the account in the 
 edition [of MoUere] in Les Grands Ecrivaim 
 4 . 299 fl., an article by M. Bnmetiere in the 
 Revue des Deux Monies for Aug. 1, 1890, 
 pp. 664-675. It is through the assertions of 
 Daniel de Cosnac that the Abbe de Choisy, 
 and subsequently Saint-Simon, have seen in 
 Tartuffe the portrait of M. de Roquette. A 
 paper in blue portfolio No. 15275, in Vol. 581 
 of the Cabinet of Titles, describes him as 
 'chief of those false devotees known under 
 the name of Tartuffes; and d'Holait (note in 
 portfoUo No. 8138 of the foundation Cherin) 
 asserts that he was so called because of his re- 
 lations with Mile, de Guise, of whose affairs 
 he took charge. M. H. Pignot, in his book 
 (1876) already cited [ Un Eveque Reformateur 
 sous Louis XIV, Gabriel de Roquette], has
 
 200 THE IDEA OF COMEDY 
 
 discussed, and finally rejected, this resem- 
 blance.' 
 
 86 16. poetic plays. Meredith doubt- 
 less means plays containing an abundance of 
 the lyrical element, and perhaps also of the 
 pastoral element, such as Shakespeare's .4* 
 You Like It, The Sad Shepherd of Ben Jonsou, 
 and The Faithfid Shepherdess of John Fletcher, 
 To Aristotle, tragedy is poetry par excellence. 
 
 86 20-21. the Greek New Comedy. See 
 Legrand, The New Greek Comedy, tr. Loeb, 
 London, 1917; Bond, Early Plays from the 
 Italian, Oxford, 1911. 
 
 86 26. Fletcher. John Fletcher (1579- 
 1625), for whom see G. C. Macaulay in the 
 Cambridge History of English Literature 6 . 121- 
 159 (chapter 5, on Beaumont and Fletcher). 
 Macaulay says (p. 152): *The Chances and 
 The Wild-Goose Chase stand in the first rank 
 among Fletcher's comedies, and in them we 
 see, in full perfection, that lively and brilliant 
 style of dialogue which gained him the repu- 
 tation of understanding the conversation of 
 gentlemen better than any other dramatist of 
 his time.' 
 
 86 26. Justice Greedy. Greedy, 'a 
 hungry justice of peace,' is a character in
 
 NOTES 201 
 
 A New Way to Pay Old Debts (1625), by Philip 
 Massinger (l58a-lG40). For Massinger see 
 Emil Koeppel in Camb. Hist. Eng. Lit. 6.1G0- 
 187 (chapter C). 
 
 86 27-28. *with good capon lined/ See 
 Shakespeare, As You Like It 2.7.153-154: 
 
 And then the justice, 
 In fair round bell\' with good capon lined. 
 
 Meredith having misquoted ('fat capon') 
 I have restored the proper reading. 
 
 87 1. Panurge. The jester of Pantag- 
 ruel in the story of this name by Rabelais, 
 Panurge is an arrant rogue, devoid of ali 
 moral qualities, but possessed of great ability; 
 he delights in practical jokes. His many ad- 
 ventures include his journey in quest of a 
 wife, when he must consult the oracle of the 
 Holy Bottle. 
 
 87 11. Bobadill. See Ben Jonson, Every 
 Man in his Humor (1598) 1.4: 
 
 BOBADILL. By the foot of Pharaoh, and 
 't were my case now, I should send him a 
 chartel presently. 
 
 87 13. The comic of Jonson. Prob- 
 ably the best literary estimate of Ben Jon- 
 son (1573-1C37) is that in the exhaustive
 
 202 THE IDEA OF COMEDY 
 
 monogi-aph of Maurice Castelain, Ben Jonson, 
 V Homme et VOeuvre, 1907. 
 
 87 24-25. creatures of the woods and 
 wilds. Meredith betrays the same preference 
 for the romantic comedy of Shakespeare as 
 IVIilton {r Allegro 133-134) : 
 
 Or sweetest Shakespeare, Fancy's child. 
 Warble his native wood-notes wild. 
 
 87 28. Jaques. A lord attending upon 
 the banished Duke in As You Like It. 
 
 87 28. Falstaff. See 1 and 2 King 
 Henry the Fourth, King Henry the Fifth 2.3, 
 and The Merry Wives of Windsor. 
 
 88 1. Malvoiio. See Twelfth-Night. 
 
 88 1. Sir Hugh Evans. See The Merry 
 Wives of Wiridsor. 
 
 88 2. Fluellen. See King Henry the 
 Fifth. 
 
 88 2-3. Benedick and Beatrice, Dog- 
 berry. See Much Ado about Nothing. 
 
 88 6. His comedy of incredible im- 
 broglio. Shakespeare's Comedy of Errors may 
 have been indebted to an earlier Elizabethan 
 play, the Historie of Error, now lost, but is 
 ultimately founded in the main upon the
 
 NOTES 203 
 
 Menaechmi, and in part upon the Amphiiruo, 
 of Plautus. 
 
 88 14-19. Euripides . . . inspired that 
 fine genius. Does Meredith mean, inspired 
 the genius of the New Comedy as a whole, or 
 the genius of 'romantic comedy,' or inspired 
 Menander? Probably the last. Compare 
 QuintiUan, Education of an Orator, tr. Watson, 
 10.1.69: 'Menander, as he himself often 
 testifies, admired Euripides greatly, and even 
 imitated him, though m a different depart- 
 ment of the drama; and Menander alone, in 
 my judgment, would, if diligently read, suffice 
 to generate all those quaUties in the student 
 of oratory for which I am an advocate; so 
 exactly does he represent all the phases of 
 human life; such is his fertility of invention, 
 and easy grace of expression; and so readily 
 does he adapt himself to all circumstances, 
 persons, and feelmgs.' But the tragedies 
 of Euripides furnished only one of the influ- 
 ences that protluced the New Comedy. See 
 Legrand, The New Greek Comedy , chapter 5 
 (pp. 206-272), and Index, s. v. 'Aristophanes,' 
 'Euripides,' 'Theophrastus,' etc. 
 
 88 28. rose-pink ladies. In 1869 Mere- 
 dith said of the 'hsping and voweled purity'
 
 204 THE IDEA OF COMEDY 
 
 of Tennyson in the Idylls of the King {Letters 
 of George Meredith, 1912, 1.198): 'It's 
 fasliionable; it pleases the rose-pink ladies; it 
 sells.' Compare note on 112 2. 
 
 89 25. as the Prince de Conde ex- 
 plained. The expression used by Meredith 
 is not found in the explanation to the King 
 commonly attributed to the great Conde, but 
 is possibly taken from Voltaire, who quotes 
 from an imidentified source {Oeuvres Completes 
 de Voltaire, Paris, 1879, etc., 23.117): 'Pen- 
 dant quon sufprimait cet ouvrage [Le Tartuffe], 
 qui etait Veloge de la vertu et la satire de la seule 
 hypocrisie, on permit quon joudt sur le theatre 
 italien Scaramouche Ermite, piece ires-froide, 
 s^i elle neut He licensieuse, dans laquelle un 
 ermite vetu en moine monte la nuit par une 
 echelle a la fenetre d'une femme mariee, et 
 reparait de temps en temps en disant: " Questo 
 e per mortificar la carne." On sail sur cela le 
 mot du grand Conde: "Les comSdiens italiens 
 nont offejisS que Dieu, mais les frangais ant 
 offense les dhots." ' ('We know the saying 
 on this head of the great Conde: "The Italian 
 comedians have merely offended God, but the 
 French have offended the bigots." ') Accord- 
 ing to the edition of Voltaire just cited, in 
 1739 he alluded to the 'saying' without quot-
 
 NOTES 205 
 
 ing it; the quotation was added in 17G4. The 
 better-known 'saying' appears at the close of 
 Moliere's Preface to the first edition (16G9) 
 of Tartiiffe; see Oeuvres de Moliere {Lcs Grands 
 tlcrivains de la France), 1873, etc., 4 .383-384: 
 
 'Finissons par un mot d^un grand prince siir 
 la comMie du TartufFe. 
 
 ' Huit jours apres quelle eut HS d^f endue, on 
 represenia devant la cour nne piece intituUe 
 Scaramouche Ermite; et le Roi, en sortant, dit 
 au grand prince que je veux dire: " Je voudrois 
 hien savoir pourqxioi les gens qui se scandal- 
 isent si fort de la comedie de Moliere ne disent 
 mot de celle de Scaramouche." A quoi le Prince 
 repondit: ''La raiso7i de ccla, c'est que la comedie 
 de Scaramouclie joue la Cicl et la religion, dont 
 ces Messieurs-Id ne se soucient point; mais 
 celle de Moliere les joue eux-memes: cest ce 
 gu'ils ne peuvent souffrir." ' 
 
 ('Let us close with a saying of a great 
 prince on the comedy of Tartuffe. 
 
 'Eight days after the play had been for- 
 bidden, there was represented before the Court 
 a piece entitled Scaramouche the Hermit; and 
 when the King was leaving, he said to the 
 prince I refer to: "I should very much like to 
 know why the people who are so greatly 
 scandalized by the comedy of Moliere have
 
 206 THE IDEA OF COMEDY 
 
 not a word to say about that of Scaramouches 
 To which the Prince rephed: "The reason is, 
 the comedy of Scaramouche ridicules Heaven 
 and religion, for which those gentlemen feel 
 no concern, but that of Moliere ridicules those 
 gentlemen themselves — and that is what they 
 cannot endure." ') 
 
 90 1-2. the Precieuses. Moliere's com- 
 edy, in one act, Les Precieuses Ridicules (1659) 
 preceded Les Femmes Savantes (see 90 5) by 
 thirteen years. 
 
 90 14-15. the Misanthrope , . . frigidly 
 received. A traditional error, found in 
 Grimarest (1705) ; see La Vie de Mr de Moliere, 
 par J.-L. le Gallois, Sieur de Grimarest, Reim- 
 ■pression de V edition originale . . . ed. Malassis, 
 Paris, 1877, pp. 98-99: 7Z [Moliere] ne Jut 
 pas plustost rentre dans son cabinet quil tra- 
 vailla au INIedecin malgre lui, pour soutenir le 
 IMisan trope, dont le seconde reprSsentatio7i 
 fut encore plus foible que la premiere — ce qui 
 Vobligea de se depecher defabriquer sonfagotier. 
 . . . La troisierae reprhentation du Misan- 
 trope Jut encore moins heureuse que les prScS- 
 dentcs. On n'aimoit point tout ce sirieux qui 
 est ripandu dans cette piece. D'ailleurs le 
 Marquis Hoit la copie de plusieurs originaux
 
 NOTES 207 
 
 dc consequence, qui decrioient Vouvrage de toute 
 leur force. "Je n^ai pourtant pufaire mieux, et 
 seurcTP.erJ je neferai pas mieux," disoit Molihe 
 d, tout le monde.' ('Moliere had no sooner re- 
 turned to his study than he set to work on the 
 Medecin Malgrc Lui so as to bolster up the 
 Misanthrope, the second representation of 
 whicli was still less effective than the first — 
 which made him hasten to forge his faggoteer 
 [ = Sganarelle]. . . . The third representa- 
 tion of the Misanthrope was even less success- 
 ful than the two preceding. The element of 
 seriousness which pervades the piece was not 
 at all well-liked. Moreover, the Marquis was 
 copied from various personages of consequence, 
 who decried the work with all their might. 
 "However, I could not do better, and assur- 
 edly I never shall do better," said Moliere to 
 every one.') But compare the actual receipts 
 at the first performances {Le Misanthrope, ed. 
 Livet, 1883, pp. ii,iii) : ' "Friday, June 4 [1666], 
 first performance of the Misanthrope, a new 
 play by M. de Mohere, 1447 liv., 10 s.; divided, 
 92 livres." From the time his troupe was es- 
 tablished at Paris, that is, since October 24, 
 1G58, only thirteen times had Moliere's re- 
 ceipts reached a higher figure. . . . The Mis- 
 anthrope, then, from the outset promised sue-
 
 208 THE IDEA OF COMEDY 
 
 cess; on Sunday, June 6, the success was con- 
 firmed, the receipts rising to 1617 liv., 10 s., a 
 figure that up to tliis time had been exceeded 
 for the troupe but eight times. Furthermore, 
 they continued to give this play nineteen 
 times more up to August 1.' 
 
 92 24-25. Millamant . . . Mirabell. 
 
 See note on 84 3. 
 
 93 6-7. The Agnes of the Ecole des 
 Fenxmes should be a lesson. Agnes is a 
 young girl reared by the middle-aged Ar- 
 nolphe in such a way as to make her extremely 
 unsophisticated and apparently docile. Her 
 guardian (who was training her to be his own 
 wife) is therefore astounded when she insists 
 upon marrying a youth she has secretly met 
 during his absence from town. Her own ex- 
 planation of her change of front is (5.4): 
 
 Et dans I'age ou je suis, 
 Je ne veux plus passer pour sotte, si je puis. 
 
 94 12-13. Plain Dealer, a coarse prose 
 adaptation of the Misanthrope. See 111 
 
 27-28, and note on 95 27-96 2. 
 
 94 22-23. Goldsmith . . . comic in nar- 
 rative. Meredith evidently prefers The 
 Vicar of Wakefield (1766) to She Stoops to
 
 NOTES 209 
 
 Conquer, produced at Covent Garden (1773) 
 before an enthusiastic audience. The sub-title 
 of Meredith's novel The Egoist is: A Comedy 
 in Narrative. 
 
 94 24. Fielding. Henry Fielding (1707- 
 1754) produced several comedies, burlesques, 
 and farces between 1728 and 1737, when the 
 Licensing Act was passed. He then turned to 
 novels; it is on Joseph Andrews, Jonathan Wild, 
 and Tom Jones that his reputation chiefly 
 rests. Yet his own opinion (see Austin Dob- 
 son in the Encyc. Brit.) was that ' he left off 
 writing for the stage when he ought to have 
 begun.' 
 
 95 5. comedy as a jade. 'See Tom 
 Jones, Book 8, chapter 1, for Fielding's 
 opinion of our comedy. But he puts it simply; 
 not as an exercise in the quasi-philosophical 
 bathetic' (Meredith's footnote.) Fielding 
 writes: 'Our modern authors of comedy have 
 fallen almost universally into the error here 
 hinted at; their heroes generally are notorious 
 rogues, and their heroines abandoned jades, 
 during the first four acts; but in the fifth, the 
 former become very worthy gentlemen, and 
 the latter women of virtue and discretion; 
 nor is the writer often so kind as to give him-
 
 210 THE IDEA OF COMEDY 
 
 self the least trouble to reconcile or account 
 for this monstrous change and incongruity. 
 ... As a genius of the highest rank observes 
 in his fifth chapter of the Bathos: "The great 
 art of all poetry is to mix truth with fiction, 
 in order to join the credible with the sur- 
 prizing." ' 
 
 95 27-96 2. Scene 5, Act 2, of the Mis- 
 anthrope . . . Wycherley, Congreve, and 
 
 Sheridan. See Wycherley, Plahi Dealer 2.1; 
 Congreve (ed. Ewald, 1887), Way of iJie World 
 1.1-2, 2.2; Sheridan, School for Scandal 1.1, 
 2.2. But our identification of scenes can be 
 only approximate, since the arrangement of 
 them (for example, in Congreve) differs in 
 different editions, and it is impossible to say 
 what editions Meredith consulted. On the 
 influence of Moliere see Ferchlandt, Moliere's 
 Misantkrop und seine Englischen Nachahm- 
 ungen, Halle a. S., 1907; Gillet, Moliere en 
 Angleterre, 1660-1670, Memoires of the Acad- 
 emic Royale de Belgique, second series. 
 Vol. 9, Brussels, 1913; Miles, The Influence of 
 Moliere on Restoration Comedy, New York, 
 1910. 
 
 96 19. Tartuffe. See pp. 112 ff., and 
 note on 85 26-27.
 
 NOTES 211 
 
 96 20. Harpagon. The wretched hero of 
 MoHere's UAvare (1C67), a miser in whom, as 
 in the Euclio of the Aulularia of Plautus, 
 avarice has overcome all better impulses. 
 Compare what J. Wight Duff says of Euclio 
 {A Literary History of Rome, p. 177) : 'The two 
 other great portraits of a miser are French; 
 for neither Ben Jonson's Volpone nor Shake- 
 speare's Shylock loved gold after the typical 
 manner of UAvare. Moliere's Harpagon and 
 Balzac's Grandet instantly cross the mind as 
 one reads.' 
 
 96 25-27. the lesson Chrysale reads to 
 Philaminte and Belise. See Moliere, Les 
 Femmes Savantes 2 . 7. Chrysale is an honest 
 tradesman of strong common sense; Phila- 
 minte, his wife, has discharged an excellent 
 cook for faulty grammar; Belise, his sister, 
 detects subtle love-making in the speeches of 
 all her acquaintance. 
 
 97 6-7. inspires a pun with meaning 
 and interest. ^FemiTics Savantes: 
 
 BfcLisE. Veux-tu toute ta vie offenser la 
 
 grammaire? 
 MARTiNE. Qui parle d'offenser grand'mere 
 
 ni grand pere.'* 
 
 The pun is delivered in all sincerity, from
 
 212 THE IDEA OF COMEDY 
 
 the mouth of a rustic' (Meredith's foot- 
 note.) See Les Femmes Savantes 2.6.64-65. 
 97 12-13. life . . . likened to the com- 
 edy of Moliere. Compare the utterance at- 
 tributed to the learned grammarian Aris- 
 tophanes of Byzantium {Syriamis in Ilermo- 
 genem, ed. Rabe, 1892, 2.23 [134.4]: 'O 
 Menander, and thou, human life, which of 
 you copied the other ? ' Coleridge renders it 
 (Works, ed. Shedd, 4.26): 'O Life and Me- 
 nander, which of you two imitated the other.''' 
 
 97 26-27. The Double-Dealer. 'Mask- 
 well seems to have been carved on the model 
 of lago, as by the hand of an enterprising 
 urchin. He apostrophizes his "invention" 
 repeatedly: "Thanks, my Invention." He 
 hits on an invention, to say: "Was it my 
 Brain or Providence.'* — no matter which." It 
 is no matter which, but it was not his brain.' 
 (Meredith's footnote.) See Congreve (ed. 
 Ewald), Double-Dealer 5.4; 3.1. 
 
 98 6-7. where Valentine feigns mad- 
 ness, or retorts on his father. See Con- 
 greve, Love for Love 4.2; 2.1. 
 
 98 9. keeps them 'from air.' See ZrOte 
 for Love 2.2, where Mrs. Frail says to Mrs. 
 Foresight: 'Ours are but slight flesh wounds,
 
 NOTES 213 
 
 and if we keep 'em from air, not at all danger- 
 ous.' 
 
 99 6-7. Landor. 'Imaginary Conversa- 
 tions, Alfieri and the Jew Salomon.^ (Mere- 
 dith's footnote.) See Lander's Imaginary 
 Conversations, ed. Forster, Alfieri and Salo- 
 mon the Florentine Jew (3.277). 
 
 99 11-12. 'few have been wittier.' As 
 
 Meredith quotes: ' "Few men have been 
 wittier." ' I have rectified the quotation. 
 
 99 21. On voit . . . de hons mots. 
 
 ('One observes that he labors to utter smart 
 sayings.') A line in the satirical character- 
 sketch by Celimene of Damis, uncle of the 
 young Cleon (Moliere, Misanthrope 2.5.78). 
 
 99 24-25. an example . . . for eulogy. 
 
 The passage is found in Congreve (ed. Ewald), 
 The Way of the World 1.2. 
 
 99 27. my brother . . . Meredith reads: 
 'my brother, etc., etc.'; he has purposely 
 omitted five lines. 
 
 100 2. upon honor. Meredith reads: 
 'upon my honor.' 
 
 100 18-19. He hits the mean of a fine 
 style and a natural in dialogue. Compare 
 
 Aristotle, Poetics, chapter 22 (Cooper, Aris-
 
 214 THE IDEA OF COMEDY 
 
 totle On the Art of Poetry, pp. 73-74): 'In re- 
 spect to diction, the ideal for the p)oet is to be 
 clear without being mean. The clearest dic- 
 tion is that which is made up of current terms 
 [the ordinary words for things]. But a style 
 so composed is mean. . . . But the language 
 attains majesty and distinction when the poet 
 makes use of terms that are less familiar: rare 
 words, metaphors, lengthened forms — every- 
 thing that deviates from the ordinary usage. 
 Yet if one composes in a diction of such 
 terms alone, the result will be either a riddle 
 or a jargon. . . . The poet, then, should em- 
 ploy a certain admixture of these expressions 
 that deviate from the ordinary; for distinction 
 and elevation of style will result from the use 
 of such means as the strange word, the meta- 
 phor, the ornamental word [.'* the nobler, when 
 there are synonyms], and the rest; and clear- 
 ness will arise from such part of the language 
 as is in common use.' 
 
 101 3. boudoir billingsgate. Billings- 
 gate, the proper name (doubtless from a per- 
 sonal name Billing) of one of the gates of Lon- 
 don, was carried over to the fish-market there 
 established. The seventeenth-century refer- 
 ences to the 'rhetoric' or abusive language of 
 this market are frequent; accordingly, foul
 
 NOTES 215 
 
 language, as of a fishwife, is itself called 'bill- 
 ingsgate' [New English Dictionary]. See 
 then, for example, the tirade of Lady Wish- 
 fort against Foible, her woman (Congreve, 
 The Way of the World 5 . 1) : 'Out of my house, 
 out of my house, thou viper ! thou serpent, 
 that I have fostered ! thou bosom traitress, 
 that I raised from notliing ! — Begone ! begone ! 
 begone ! — go ! go ! — That I took from washing 
 of old gauze and weaving of dead hair, with 
 a bleak blue nose over a chafing-dish of 
 starved embers, and dining behind a traverse 
 rag, in a shop no bigger than a birdcage ! — 
 Go, go ! starve again, do, do !' 
 
 101 19. dwindle into a wife. See Con- 
 greve, The Way of the World 4.1:' These ar- 
 ticles subscribed, if I continue to endure you 
 a little longer, I may by degrees dwindle into 
 a wife.' 
 
 101 22-29. Here she comes . . . mind 
 and mansion. The Way of the World 2.2. 
 
 102 2-3. encouraged ... by Mrs. Fain- 
 all. The Way of the World 4.1: 'Fy! Fy ! 
 have him, have him, and tell him so in plain 
 terms; for I am sure you have a mind to liim.' 
 
 102 6. thought so too. Meredith reads: 
 'thought so too, etc., etc' In Congreve,
 
 216 THE IDEA OF COMEDY 
 
 Millamant continues: 'Well, you ridiculous 
 tiling you, I'll have you — ' 
 
 102 9. Celimene. Meredith now re- 
 turns to his favorite comic poet, Moliere, and 
 his favorite comedy, Le Misanthrope. See 
 90 14-91 2. 
 
 102 19-20. Gainsborough. See, doubt- 
 less, the portrait of the Duchess of Devon- 
 shire, by Thomas Gainsborough (1727-1788), 
 exhibited in 1783. The picture was stolen 
 in 1876 (Meredith was working on his essay in 
 that year), and not recovered until 1901, 
 And compare Araminta (1909), a novel by 
 J. C. Snaith. 
 
 102 22. Venetian head. Meredith com- 
 pares Gainsborough with Titian (1477.^- 
 1576), who spent the major part of his life in 
 Venice, and idealized the blond type of 
 northern Italy. 
 
 103 8. Rousseau, in his letter. The 
 
 letter is not strictly on the subject of the 
 Misanthrope: see J. J. Rousseau, Citoyen de 
 Geneve, A M. D' Alemhert, de VAcademie 
 Frangaise [etc.], snr son Article 'Geneve' dans le 
 VIV Volume de VEncyclopMie, et particuliere- 
 ment sur le Projet d'Etahlir un Theatre de 
 Comedie en cette Ville (1758). I translate a
 
 NOTES 217 
 
 brief passage {Oeuvres Completes de J. J. 
 Rousseau, ed. Musset-Pathay, Paris, 1824, 
 2.49-50): 'What is, then, the misantlirope of 
 Moliere? A man of probity who detests the 
 morals of his age and the maUce of his con- 
 temporaries; who, precisely because he loves 
 his kind, hates in them the injuries they mutu- 
 ally do to one another, and the vaces of which 
 these injuries are the result. . . . He says, 
 I admit, that he has conceived a dreadful 
 hatred agauist the human race. But under 
 what circumstances does he say this.'* It is 
 when, outraged at having seen his friend basely 
 betray his affection, and deceive the man who 
 demands it in return, he perceives him going 
 on to amuse himself in the highest degree at 
 his anger. . . . Moreover, the excuse he 
 gives for that universal hate fully justifies the 
 cause of it.' 
 
 103 26-27. ' une ame de vingt ans.' 
 Celimene to Alceste {Misanthrope 5.7.42): 
 
 La solitude effraie une ame de vingt ans. 
 
 ('Solitude alarms a creature of twenty 
 years.') 
 
 104 20. 'Vhomme aux rubans verts.* 
 
 Acaste to Alceste, reading aloud the letter 
 written by Celimene {Misanthrope 5.4):
 
 218 THE IDEA OF COMEDY 
 
 Pour Vhomme aux ruhans verts, il me di- 
 vertii quelquefois avec ses hrusqueries et son 
 chagrin bourru; mais il est cent moments ou 
 je le trouve le plus fdcheux du monde." ' 
 (' "As for the man with the green ribbons, 
 he sometimes diverts me with his rough ways 
 and his surly anger; but there are a hundred 
 occasions when I find him the most disagree- 
 able person ahve." ') 
 
 105 5. a Jean Jacques. See note on Jean 
 Jacques Rousseau (1712-1778), 103 8. 
 
 105 5-6. His proposal to Celimene. 
 See Le Misanthrope 5 . 7. 
 
 105 14. Oii d*etre homme d'honneur. 
 See the conclusion of the last speech of Al- 
 ceste {Misanthrope 5.8.72-74): 
 
 Je vais sortir d'un gouffre oti triomphent les 
 
 vices, 
 Et chercher sur la terre un endroit ecarte 
 Ou d'etre homme d'honneur on ait la liberte. 
 ('I am going to leave a pit where vice is tri- 
 umphant, and to search through the earth for 
 a place apart, where one is at liberty to be an 
 honest man.') 
 
 105 16. like that poor princess. I have 
 not found the story elsewhere. Is Meredith 
 inventing?
 
 NOTES 219 
 
 105 19. fieffee. The word means 'by 
 feudal right and necessity,' and hence 'out 
 and out,' 'arrant.' Livet {Lexique de la 
 Langue de Moliere) gives several instances 
 from Moliere, including L'Avare 2.5: 'II fatit 
 etre folk fieffee.' For Meredith's 'fieffee 
 coquette' see an additional example noted by 
 Livet, in Thomas Corneille, Baron d'Albikrac 
 1.6: 
 
 Avec vos cheveux blonds, en coquette fieffee 
 Vous vous imaginez etre fort bien coiffee. 
 
 106 9. comic Muse. Thalia? Compare 
 note on 78 8-9. 
 
 106 16-17. Misogynes. That is. The 
 Woman - Hater. The Atticist Phrynichus 
 (fl. A.D. 180) calls it, not 'the most celebrated' 
 (Meredith), but 'the finest' of the comedies of 
 Menander; see the Epitome in Lobeck's 
 edition (1820) of Phrynichus (p. 417): 'kuI 
 TovTO 'Mivavdpo^ tt]v KoKXiffTTjv rCiv KiOfJLipdiQv ruv 
 iavToD, rbv Mt(ro7i5v77>', KaT€KT)\ldo}(T€v.' 
 
 107 4-5. the middle period of Greek 
 comedy. The question has been raised 
 whether there was in reality a definite stage 
 in the history of Greek comedy which we may 
 designate as the 'Middle Comedy.' Legrand 
 {Tfie New Greek Comedy, tr. Loeb, pp. 4 ff.)
 
 220 THE IDEA OF COMEDY 
 
 decides in the affirmative. Meredith may 
 have obtained his notions of the comedy inter- 
 vening between Aristophanes and the contem- 
 poraries of Menander from Charles Benoit's 
 Essai Historique et Litteraire sur la Comedie 
 de MSnandre (1854) or Maurice Guillaume 
 Guizot's Mhiandre, Etude Historique et Litter- 
 aire sur la ComSdie et laSociitSGrecques (1855). 
 Legrand says (p. 24) that perhaps the differ- 
 ence between the Middle and the New Com- 
 edy 'lay not so much in the kind of people it 
 attacked as in the greater or lesser frequency 
 of its attacks.' Possibly the Middle Comedy 
 made more extensive use of plots taken from 
 mythology; but our knowledge of the tran- 
 sitional stage is slight. 
 
 107 10-11. He satirized a certain Thais. 
 Menander wrote a comedy of this name 
 (Qals), now best known, perhaps, because of 
 a maxim from it, or from Euripides, quoted by 
 Saint Paul (1 Cor. 15.33): 'Evil communica- 
 tions corrupt good manners.' But Legrand 
 says (p. 29): 'It is particularly open to ques- 
 tion whether Athenaeus was not mistaken 
 in recognizing an historical personage in 
 Menander's Thais.' 
 
 107 14. Chrysis. See the Andria ( = The 
 Lady of Andros) of Terence.
 
 NOTES 221 
 
 107 20-21. the ghost of Menander. See 
 
 Sainte-Beuve on Terence, in Nouveaux Lundis 
 (Aug. 3, 1863), 1884, 5.339: 'Pour moi, je 
 crois entendre VOmhre de Menandre, par 
 chacun de ces vers aimables qui nous sont 
 arrivSs en debris, nous dire: " Pour Vamour de 
 moi, aimez Terence." ' ('As for me, with 
 each one of these winning verses that have 
 come down to us in fragments, I seem to hear 
 the shade of Menander say to us: "For love 
 of me love Terence." ') 
 
 107 24. what is preserved of Terence has 
 not . . . given us the best. Contrary to 
 the view of Meredith and his age, the disap- 
 pointing nature of the fragments of Menan- 
 der that have been unearthed since Meredith 
 wrote might lead one to think that perhaps, 
 after all, the best of the New Comedy was 
 no better than what we have in Plautus and 
 Terence. See note on 107 27. 
 
 107 25-26. the friend of Epicurus. The 
 relations between Menander and the Greek 
 philosopher Epicurus remind us that Moliere 
 studied under the French philosopher and 
 mathematician Gassendi. 
 
 107 26-27. Microu/iefO?, the lover taken 
 in horror. Possibly rather, The Jilted Lover
 
 222 THE IDEA OF COMEDY 
 
 (Lat. Odiosus). Compare Legrand, The New 
 Greek Comedy, p. 151: *In the Mi«roi5/A6voj the 
 jilted lover is driven out of doors at night 
 by his sad thoughts, and awakens his slave 
 Getas, who has nothing to do with the matter, 
 to tell him of his mortification.' 
 
 107 27. HepiKeipo/xevT]. (Lat. Tonsa.) This 
 is one of the plays of Menander of which 
 very considerable fragments have recently 
 been discovered, and the quality of which 
 (see note on 107 24) can now be appraised. A 
 French translation appears in the edition of 
 "Hpws, 'ETTiTp^TToyres, UepiKeipo/xivr], and ^a/j.La, by 
 G. Lefebvre, Cairo, 1907; and a version 
 of 'EirLTp^TTovrei (U Arbitrage) is given by 
 IMaurice Croiset in the Revue des Etudes 
 Grecques 21.229-325 (1908). Those who do 
 not read French with ease may wish to 
 consult the translation from the T€cjpy6i by 
 Grenfell and Hunt in their edition of the 
 Geneva Fragment of this play (Oxford, 1898). 
 
 108 5. the fragments. See Comicorum 
 Atticorum Fragmenta, ed. Kock, 3.97-101, 
 111-112. 
 
 108 6-7. four are derived from Me- 
 nander. In their entirety, according to our 
 present knowledge, only three. The Andria
 
 NOTES 223 
 
 was drawn from two plays of Menander, 
 
 'Avdpla and Uepivdla; the Eunuchus likewise 
 from two, 'El/ voOxo J and K6Xa|; the Heauton 
 Timorumenos from one, 'Eavrbv Tifj.upo^fj.evos; 
 while the Adelphi was drawn partly from the 
 'Ade\(pol B' of Menander, and partly from 
 the ^vvairodvTJa-KovTii of Diphilus. As Mere- 
 dith notes, the other two extant plays of 
 Terence are derived from Apollodorus Carys- 
 tius — the Hecyra from 'E/o/pa, the Phormio from 
 ''E.irLSiKci^6fjxvo$. Meredith later (109 14-15) 
 alludes to a passage from Diphilus in the 
 Adelphi. 
 
 108 11. Heauton Timorumenos. The 
 
 Self-TormcTitor (or Self-Punisher) of Terence, 
 in which Menedemus afflicts himself with 
 heavy labor because he has driven away his 
 son Clinia by harsh treatment. In this play 
 occurs the line (77) uttered by Chremes: 
 
 homo sum; humani nil a me alienum puto. 
 
 (*I am a man; nought touches humanity 
 but I deem it my concern.') The sentence 
 strikes the key-note of both Terence and 
 Menander. 
 
 108 16—17. quotations of Athenaeus 
 and Plutarch. See Yonge's translation
 
 224 THE IDEA OF COMEDY 
 
 (Bohn) of TJie Deipnosophists, or Banquet of 
 the Learned, of Athenaeus, a Greek writer, 
 born at Naucratis in Egypt, who lived first 
 at Alexandria and later at Rome about 300 
 A.D.; and Goodwin's edition of transla- 
 tions, by several hands, of the Moralia of 
 Plutarch of Chaeronea (c 46- e 120 a.d.), or 
 the translation in Everyman's Library. But 
 we now know more both of Menander and of 
 his contemporaries than Meredith allows; see 
 again Legrand, The New Greek Comedy. 
 
 108 17-18. the Greek grammarians. 
 
 Such as the 'Atticist' Phrynichus (see note on 
 106 16-17); compare Sandys, A Sfwrt History 
 of Classical Scholarship, 1915, chapter 10 (pp. 
 77 ff.). 
 
 108 21. counted by many scores. Mere- 
 dith first (1877) wrote: 'by hundreds.' The 
 number of plays ascribed to Menander by the 
 critics of antiquity varied between 105 and 
 109. According to Suidas the number was 
 108, the figure now generally accepted 
 (Croiset, Histoire de la Litterature Grecque 
 3.623); they were composed within a period 
 of thirty years. 
 
 108 22. crowned by the prize only eight 
 times. See Aulus Gellius (tr. Beloe, 1795)
 
 NOTES 225 
 
 17.4: 'Through interest, and the power of 
 party, Menander was frequently overcome in 
 the dramatic contests by Philemon, a writer 
 by no means his equal. Menander, meeting 
 him once by chance, said to him: "Tell me, 
 I request, — and excuse me for asking, — 
 Philemon, do you not blush when you carry 
 away the prize from me.'*" . . . Some say 
 that Menander left 108, some 109, comedies. 
 I have met in a book written by ApoUodorus, 
 an eminent author, these lines upon Me- 
 nander (the book is intituled Chronica) : 
 
 From Diopeithes of Cephisium 
 
 He sprung, and fifty years and two he lived. 
 
 And wrote an hundred comedies and five. 
 
 The same ApoUodorus informs us, in the 
 same book, that of these 105 plays only 
 [eight] were rewarded with the prize.' By a 
 slip of the pen, doubtless, Beloe mistranslates 
 *octo' as 'five.' 
 
 108 22-23. The favorite poet with crit- 
 ics, in Greece. Among Greek critics would 
 be included Athenaeus and Plutarch. 
 
 108 23-24. as in Rome. This would 
 include Gellius, Julius Caesar, and Quintilian. 
 See Quintilian, Education of an Orator (tr.
 
 226 THE IDEA OF COMEDY 
 
 Watson) 10. 1 .72: 'Other comic writers, how- 
 ever, if they be read with indulgence, have 
 some good passages that we may select, and 
 especially Philemon, who, preferred as he 
 frequently was to Menander by the bad taste 
 of his age, deserves in the opinion of all critics 
 to be regarded as second to him.' 
 
 108 25-26. comic force. Julius Caesar uses 
 the expression 'vis comica (or possibly 'comica 
 virtus') in his celebrated lines on Terence; see 
 Suetonius De Poetis {Vita Terenti), in Rolfe's 
 edition of Suetonius, 1914, 2.462: 
 
 Tu quoque, tu in summis, o dimidiate 
 
 Menander, 
 poneris, et merito, puri sermonis amator. 
 lenibus atque utinam scriptis adiuncta foret 
 
 vis 
 comica, ut aequato virtus poUeret honore 
 cum Graecis, neve hac despectus parte 
 
 iaceres ! 
 unum hoc maceror ac doleo tibi desse, 
 
 Terenti. 
 
 ('Thou, too, O half-Menander, even thou, 
 art ranked among the highest, and justly, thou 
 lover of Latin undefiled. And would that to 
 thy limpid style had been added comic force, 
 so that thy excellence might in honor rival
 
 NOTES 227 
 
 that of the Greeks, and thou not He in this 
 regard disdained. For thy lack of this one 
 quaUty, my Terence, I am hurt and pained.') 
 I have departed from Rolfe in placing the 
 comma after 'comica' rather than 'vis' — 
 following those who interpret * comica' with 
 'vis' rather than with 'virtus.' 
 
 108 28-109 2. deprived ... of its due 
 reward in Clouds and Birds. The Athenian 
 comic poet Ameipsias twice won prizes above 
 Aristophanes, takuig second prize with the 
 Connos, when Aristophanes took third with 
 the Clouds, and first with the Comastae, when 
 Aristophanes took second with the Birds. 
 See note on 128 7-8. Aristophanes ridi- 
 cules him for low buffoonery in the Frogs 
 12-15; see the edition of this play, with trans- 
 lation, by B. B. Rogers. 
 
 109 4-0. Plutarch . . . comparison. 
 
 See the l^vyKpla^us ' Api<TTO(pdvovi ko2 MevavSpov 
 'En-iro^tiJ, a work included under the Moralia 
 of Plutarch (ed. Diibner, Paris, Didot, 1856, 
 2.1039-10-11), and apparently an abstract, 
 by another hand, from a treatise by Plutarch. 
 See An Abstract of a Comparison betwixt 
 Aristophanes and Menander (tr. William Bax- 
 ter, Gent.), m Plutarch's Morals, tr. from the
 
 228 THE IDEA OF COMEDY 
 
 Greek by several hands, ed. Goodwin, Boston, 
 1878, 3.11-14: 'To speak in sum and in 
 general, he [Plutarch] prefers Menander by 
 far; and as to particulars he adds what here 
 ensues. Aristophanes, he saith, is importune, 
 theatric, and sordid in his expression; but 
 Menander not so at all ; for the rude and vul- 
 gar person is taken with the things the former 
 speaketh, but the well-bred man will be quite 
 out of humor with them. . . . Menander's 
 plays participate of a plenteous and divine 
 salt, as if they were made of the very sea 
 out of which Venus herself sprang. But 
 that of Aristophanes is harsh and coarse, 
 and hath in it an angry and biting sharpness. 
 And for my part I cannot tell where his so 
 much boasted ability lies, whether in his style 
 or persons. The parts he acts I am sure are 
 quite over-acted and depraved. His knave, 
 for instance, is not fine, but dirty; his peasant 
 is not assured, but stupid; his droll is not 
 jocose, but ridiculous; and his lover is not 
 gay, but lewd. So that to me the man seems 
 not to have written his poesy for any temper- 
 ate person, but to have intended his smut 
 and obscenity for the debauched and lewd, his 
 invective and satire for the malicious and ill- 
 humored.'
 
 NOTES 229 
 
 109 9-10. when Athenian beauty of 
 style was the delight of his patrons. 
 
 Plutarch (c 46- c 125 a.d.) may have re- 
 ceived distinct marks of recognition from the 
 Emperor Hadrian, during whose reign there 
 was a renaissance of Greek culture m the 
 Roman Empire. The latter part of liis life 
 ran into the period of the 'Atticists,' for whom 
 the diction of classic writers served as a model, 
 and who, indeed, did not regard some of the 
 words of Menander with favor. See Croiset, 
 Histoire de la Litterature Grecque 5.C38ff. 
 Of Plutarch Croiset (Alfred Croiset) says 
 (5.489): 'For a large number of his contem- 
 poraries, Greeks or Hellenizing Romans, he 
 was the authorized interpreter of the Hellenic 
 past — of its history, religion, morals, and 
 science.' 
 
 109 14-15. 'verbum de verbo.' 'Word for 
 word.' See the Prologue to the Adelphi of 
 Terence (6-11): 
 
 Synapothnescontes Diphili comoediast; 
 earn Commorientis Plautus fecit fabulam. 
 in Graeca adulescens est, qui lenoni eripit 
 meretricem in prima fabula; eum Plautus 
 locum
 
 230 THE IDEA OF COMEDY 
 
 reliquit integrum, eum hie locum sumpsit 
 
 sibi 
 in Adelphos, verbum de verbo expressum 
 
 extulit. 
 
 {'Linked in Death is a comedy of Diphilus, 
 the plot of which Plautus took for his Com- 
 morientes. In the Greek there is a young man 
 who in the first part of the story carries oflF a 
 courtesan from a procurer, an incident which 
 Plautus entirely omits. This incident our 
 poet [Terence] has utilized in The Brothers, 
 translating it word for word.') 
 
 109 17-18. remains conjectural. Yet 
 
 see Legrand, The New Greek Comedy (Index, 
 s.v. 'Terence'; and the article on Roman 
 Comedy by W. A. Oldfather in the Classical 
 Weekly New York, May 23, 1914) 7.217-222. 
 
 109 22. Adeo modesto . . . ut nil supra. 
 
 Meredith reads : ' ut nihil supraJ See Terence, 
 Andria 117-120: ' inter ea inter midieres . . . 
 unam aspicio adulescentulam, forma . . . et 
 voltu, Sosia, adeo modesto, adeo venusto, ut nil 
 supra.' ('Presently among the women . . . 
 I beheld one girl whose figure — [Sosia in- 
 terrupts] and her face, Sosia, so modest, so 
 charming, that it couldn't be beaten.')
 
 NOTES 231 
 
 110 1-3. 'she turned ... at home 
 there.' See Terence, Andria 135-136: 
 
 turn ilia, ut consuetum facile amorem cerneres, 
 reiecit se in eum flens quam familiariter ! 
 
 110 6-7. he embellished them. See 
 
 the article by Oldfather mentioned in the 
 note on 109 17-18, 
 
 110 18-19. the cultivated Romans. 
 
 'Terence did not please the rough old con- 
 servative Romans; they liked Plautus better, 
 and the recurring mention of the ''vetus pocta" 
 in his prologues, who plagued him with the 
 crusty critical view of his productions, [1877: 
 'who plagued him with their views of his 
 productions,'] has in the end a comic ef- 
 fect on the reader.' (Meredith's footnote.) 
 See Dufif, A Literary History of Rome, p. 203: 
 'The Luscius Lanuvinus (not Lavinius), the 
 "maliuolus uetiis -poeta," on whom Terence 
 retorts in all his prologues except that to the 
 Hecyra.'' On Plautus and Terence generally 
 see Duff, pp. 156-201, 203-219. 
 
 110 21-22. rolling a couple of his orig- 
 inals into one. See note on 108 6-7. 
 
 110 24. Self-Pitier. '^avrhv HeveCiv iJjSii. 
 Se Lugcns). See Comicorum Atticorum Frag- 
 menta, ed. Kock, 3.26.
 
 232 THE IDEA OF COMEDY 
 
 110 24. Self-Chastiser. 'Eavrbv Tifiupoi- 
 fxevos (Lat. Se Puniens). See the Ileauton 
 Timoruvienos of Terence; compare notes on 
 108 6-7, 108 11. And see Kock 3.41-44. 
 
 110 25. Ill-tempered Man. \vffKo\os 
 (Lat. Morosus). See Kock 3.36-41. 
 
 110 25. Superstitious [Man], Aeiaidalfiiov 
 (?Lat. Swperstitiosns) . See Kock 3.32-33. 
 
 110 25-26. Incredulous {Man\. "Attio-tos 
 (Lat. Incredulus). See Kock 3.21. Titles 
 like The Incredulous Man, The Superstitious 
 Man, The Ill-tempered Man, of Menander 
 remind us of the Characters of Theophrastus 
 (tr. Jebb, ed. Sandys, 1899), where thirty- 
 types in all are defined and described, includ- 
 ing the Distrustful ( = Incredulous) Man, the 
 Superstitious Man, and the Surly Man. Com- 
 pare G. S. Gordon, Theophrastus and his 
 Imitators in English Literature and the Classics, 
 Oxford, 1912, p. 52: 'To instruct and amuse 
 this municipal society Theophrastus invented 
 the Character, and Menander, his pupil in 
 philosophy, perfected the Comedy of Man- 
 ners. It is a significant conjunction, not 
 peculiar to Athens. You will find that when- 
 ever Characters are written there is this same 
 conjunction, of character-writing and comedy: 
 to every Theophrastus his Menander. To
 
 NOTES 233 
 
 Hall, Overhury, and Earle, the accepted imi- 
 tators of Theophrastus in England, corre- 
 sponds Ben Jonson with liis Comedy of Hu- 
 mors, an earlier, harsher, and profounder ver- 
 sion of the later Comedy of Manners. To 
 La Bruyere, his prof'^ssed disciple in France, 
 corresponds the comedy of Moliere, the 
 French Menander. To the Taller and Specta- 
 tor, the New Testament, as I may call them, 
 of character-writing in England, corresponds 
 the comedy of Congreve, our English Moliere.' 
 
 110 27-111 2. Terence . . . died on the 
 way home. But compare Duff, A Literary 
 History of Rome, p. 205: 'His death in 159 
 [b.c] is wrapped in mystery. Was he lost at 
 sea, as one account ran, homeward bound with 
 a stock of plays adapted from Menander in 
 Menander's own country, or did he die in 
 Arcadia broken-hearted over the lost manu- 
 scripts of his latest plays? ' The chief source 
 for a knowledge of his life is the extract from 
 Suetonius De Poeiis preserved by Donatus, 
 which contains disagreeing statements taken 
 from the grammarians; see note on 108 22. 
 
 111 2-3. The zealots of Byzantium 
 completed the work of destruction. 
 Byzantine literary history had not been thor- 
 oughly investigated when Meredith wrote this.
 
 234 THE IDEA OF COMEDY 
 
 I translate from Krumbacher, the leading 
 modern authority {Geschichte der Byzantin- 
 ischen Litter atur, 1891, pp. 218-219): 'In seek- 
 ing the causes for the loss of so many works, we 
 may safely exclude reUgious intolerance; that 
 ancient works were destroyed merely because 
 of their pagan character can scarcely be main- 
 tained. Veritably fatal, on the other hand, 
 was the long stagnation of scholarly and liter- 
 ary effort from the middle of the seventh to the 
 middle of the ninth century. In the tenth cen- 
 tury the disappearance of many works may 
 have been hastened through the encyclopae- 
 dias of Constantme, which by their handy 
 excerpts were calculated to replace the original 
 works, at least for the needs of Church and 
 State, and, it would seem, led to some fall- 
 ing off in the making of complete transcrip- 
 tions. Vast losses occurred through the bar- 
 barous destruction and burning of Constanti- 
 nople (in 1204) by the Crusaders, when not 
 only countless works of art, but documents 
 and books, perished.' Compare Gilbert Mur- 
 ray, The * Tradition' of Greek Literature, in 
 Cooper, The Greek Genius and its Influence, 
 1917 (esp. pp. 177-181). 
 
 Ill 4-5. four comedies of Terence... 
 six of Menander. See note on 108 6-7.
 
 NOTES 235 
 
 111 5. a few sketches of plots. See 
 notes on 107 24, 107 26-27. 
 
 Ill 8. Harpagon. See note on 96 20. 
 
 Ill 8-9. a multitude of small frag- 
 ments. See notes on 107 10-11, 108 16-17, 
 and Comicorum Atticorum Fragmenta, ed. 
 Kock, 3.3-272 (esp. 151-272). 
 
 Ill 17. Menedemus. See note on 108 11. 
 
 Ill 19-20. Menander and Moliere have 
 given the principal types to comedy. But 
 
 see note on 110 25-26. And consider the type, 
 say, of the Braggart Captain {Miles Gloriosus) 
 of Plautus, with its relations, on the one 
 hand, to the Hercules of Euripides' Alcestis, 
 and the mock-Hercules (Dionysus) of Aristo- 
 phanes' Frogs, and, on the other, to the 
 Falstaff of Shakespeare. 
 
 Ill 26. Orgon. See Le Tartuffe of Mo- 
 liere, and note on 77 23. 
 
 Ill 27. Thraso. A braggart (Gr. Opda-wv, 
 connected with dpacrijs, bold, over-bold). 
 The name of a swaggering captain in the 
 Eunuchus of Terence. Compare the Miles 
 Gloriosus of Plautus. 
 
 Ill 27. Alceste. See Le Misanthrope^ 
 and compare notes on 94 12-13 and 95 27- 
 96 2.
 
 236 THE IDEA OF COMEDY 
 
 111 28. 'Manlys.' Manly is the hero of 
 Wycherley's The Plain Dealer, greatly de- 
 based from his prototype in Le Misanthrope. 
 
 111 28. Davus and Syrus. These are 
 names commonly given to slaves in Roman 
 comedy. See the familiar 'Davus sum, 7wn 
 Oedipus,' in Terence (Andria 194); the cor- 
 responding Greek name, ASos, is so char- 
 acteristic that Legrand has used it for the 
 title of the French work frequently mentioned 
 in the English translation {The New Greek 
 Comedy) in the foregoing notes. For Syrus 
 see Terence, Adelphi and Heauton Timoru- 
 menos. 
 
 112 1. Scapins. Scapin, whose original 
 was found in Italian (Milanese) comedy, is 
 the central figure in Les Fourheries de Scapin 
 (1671) of Mohere. 
 
 112 1. Figaros. Figaro is the hero of 
 Le Barbier de Seville and Le Mariage de Figaro 
 of Beaumarchais (1732-1799); in the first a 
 barber, in the second a valet de chambre. In 
 both he outwits every one with whom he has 
 dealings. Littre {Diet, de la Langue Franqaise) 
 calls him 'Barbier spirituel et malin; valet 
 adroit et peu genS par sa conscience.'' The name 
 has passed into common speech, and denotes
 
 NOTES 237 
 
 an intriguer, or go-between, or in general any 
 adroit or unscrupulous person. Mozart has 
 utilized Le Mariage de Figaro as the basis of 
 an opera; see also II Barbiere de Seviglia of 
 Rossini. 
 
 112 2. the realms of rose-pink. See 
 
 note on 88 28; and compare Carlyle, French 
 Revolution 1.2.3: 'If we pierce through that 
 rose-pink vapor of Sentimentalism, Philan- 
 thropy, and Feasts of Morals.' Compare also 
 Meredith, Diana of the Crossways (1885) : 
 'Rose-pink and dirty drab will . . . have 
 passed away.' 
 
 112 4-5. Philaminte and Belise. See 
 notes on 96 25-27, 97 6-7. 
 
 112 7. Celimene. See pp. 92, 93, 102- 
 106. 
 
 112 23-26. 'Et Tartuffe?* . . . 'Lepauvre 
 
 homme!' In this scene {Tartuffe 1.5) Orgon 
 utters each of these expressions four times, at 
 regular intervals in the dialogue. 
 
 113 8-11. Un rien , . . trop de colere. 
 
 See Le Tartuffe 1.6.49-52: 'A mere nothing 
 suffices to scandalize him — to the point that, 
 just the other day, he accused himself of 
 having caught a flea wliile he was praying, and 
 of having killed it too wrathfully.'
 
 238 THE IDEA OF COMEDY 
 
 113 12-15. And to have killed it . . . 
 pure tones without flourish. This passage 
 appears in 1877, and in our text, but is 
 omitted in the Edition de Luxe of Meredith 
 (Vol. 32, Westminster, 1898, p. 41). 
 
 113 16-17. another dupe in Madame 
 Pernelle. See Le Tartuffe 5.3. 
 
 113 25-26. hints for a Tartuffe ... in 
 Boccaccio. That is, in the Decameron; for 
 example: First Day, Fourth Story; Third 
 Day, Fourth Story and Eighth Story. 
 
 113 27. Machiavelli's Mandragola. See 
 R. Warwick Bond, Early Plays from the 
 Italian, 1911, p. xviii: 'Another competitor 
 for the priority is Niccolo Machiavelli (1469- 
 1527), whose lostLe Maschere (1504) satirized 
 contemporaries in imitation of the Clouds of 
 Aristophanes, and whose La Mandragola and 
 Clizia . . . were composed between 1512- 
 1520. The Mandragola is held by many 
 critics as the best of all Renaissance comedies; 
 an opinion I cannot share, feeling it far sur- 
 passed in vigor and variety, in ease and nat- 
 uralness of conduct, and in humor, both by 
 La Cassaria and / Suppositi [of Ludovico 
 Ariosto (1474-1533)]; while its subject, the 
 corruption of an innocent young wife by her
 
 1 
 NOTES 239 
 
 mother and confessor, is one that could only 
 cease to be repellent if treated with the high 
 seriousness and passion of tragedy.' Com- 
 pare Villari, Li^e and Times of Niccolo 
 Machiavelli (English translation), 1898. 
 
 114 4-8. Frate Timoteo has a . . . 
 orazione, si. In 1877 Meredith's sentence 
 and the quotation constituted a footnote. In 
 the text came the sentence, subsequently 
 omitted: 'Native Italian comedy did not ad- 
 vance beyond the state of satire, and the 
 priests were the principal objects of it.' See 
 Bond, Early Plays from the Italian, p. xv: 
 'The drama of modern Europe begins in 
 Italy early in the sixteenth century with the 
 work of Ariosto, Bibbiena, Machiavelli, and 
 their successors, work which was a direct 
 derivative from that of ancient Rome as rep- 
 resented by Plautus and Terence.' 
 
 114 6-8. DONNA. Credete voi ... si. 
 
 See Machiavelli, La Mandragola 1.3: 
 
 LADY. Do you believe that the Turk will 
 come to Italy this year ? 
 
 FRATE TIMOTEO. If you do Hot pray, yes. 
 
 114 12-14. Goldoni sketched the Vene- 
 tian manners . . . with a French pencil. 
 
 The Venetian Republic was in a state of decay
 
 240 THE IDEA OF COMEDY 
 
 throughout the eighteenth century. Carlo 
 Goldoni (1707-1793), after a shifting Hfe 
 in various cities of Northern Italy, settled in 
 Venice, his birthplace, in 1740. Early in- 
 fluenced by the Mandragola of Macliiavelli, he 
 determined to effect a revolution in Italian 
 comedy; he produced a great number of plays 
 in imitation of Moliere, depicting Venetian 
 society, the aristocracy as well as the bour- 
 geoisie. In 1761 he was induced to visit 
 Paris, to write for the Italian theatre, and 
 shortly became attached to the Court of 
 Louis the Fifteenth. One of his best comedies, 
 Le Bourru Bienfaisant, in French, was pro- 
 duced for the occasion of the wedding of 
 Louis the Sixteenth and Marie Antoinette 
 (1770). In an Italian comedy, II Moliere 
 (1751), he patterns one of his characters, 
 Pirlone, a hypocrite, after Tartuffe. A 
 rapid writer, he composed upward of 120 
 comedies; the first collected edition of his 
 works (1788-1789) was in 44 volumes. See 
 H. C. Chatfield-Taylor, Goldoni, a Biography, 
 New York, 1913. 
 
 114 17-18. furnished the idea of the 
 Menteur to Corneille. The French tragic 
 poet Pierre Corneille (1606-1684), in the 
 Epitre and the Examen preceding his comedy
 
 NOTES 241 
 
 Le Menteur (1644), gives us to understand 
 that 'this piece is in part translated, in part 
 imitated,' from a Spanish play. La Verdad 
 Sospechosa, which he at first accidentally 
 attributed to Lope de Vega, but which was 
 actually written, as CorneUle subsequently 
 recognized, by Juan Ruiz de Alarcon y 
 Mendoza (1581-1639); see Oeuvres de P. 
 CorneUle {Les Grands Ecrivains de la France), 
 ed. Marty-Laveaux, 1862-1867, 4. 119, 131, 
 137, 241-273. 
 
 114 25. the corps de ballet. The chorus 
 of dancers in light opera. 
 
 115 4. afaimados. Meredith reads 'af- 
 faimados' — a possible, but less usual, spell- 
 ing; as he says, the word means 'famine- 
 stricken,' that is, famished, hungry, eager, very 
 eager. The customary form is esfaimados. 
 
 115 6. Don Juan. See Fitzmaurice- 
 Kelly, A History of Spanish Literature (1898), 
 p. 312: 'Whether or not there existed an 
 historic Don Juan at Plasencia or at Seville 
 is doubtful, for folklorists have found the 
 story as far away from Spain as Iceland is; but 
 it is Tirso's glory to have so treated it that 
 the world has accepted it as a purely Spanish 
 conception.' The reference is to Tirso de
 
 242 THE IDEA OF COMEDY 
 
 Molina (1571-1648) and his Burlador de 
 Sevilla y Comidado de Piedra {The Seville 
 Mocker and the Stone Guest), which was first 
 printed in 1630, in a collection of plays by- 
 Lope de Vega and others. For the relations 
 between the story of the vengeful Spanish 
 libertine and Moliere's comedy of Don Juan, 
 Mozart's opera, and Byron's mock-epic, see 
 G. Gendarme de Bevotte, La Legende de Don 
 Juan, Paris, 1906. 
 
 115 13-17. Atta Troll . . . Pyrenean bear. 
 
 The allusion is to Atta Troll, a politico- 
 satirical poem in 27 chapters by Heinrich 
 Heine (1797-1856), published in part in 1843, 
 published completely in 1846. Heine says 
 {Life by Stigand, 1875, 2.297) : *It is a politico- 
 romantic poem, and will presumably give the 
 death-blow to the prosaic, bombastic ten- 
 dency-poetry.' In this 'swan-song of roman- 
 ticism,' the note is that of the mock-heroic 
 poems on the theme of Roland, and hence 
 the scenes in the Pyrenees {Atta Troll 1.9-20, 
 in Heine's Werke, ed. Elster, 2.355) : 
 
 Herzlich lachend schaun sie nieder 
 Auf den wimmelnd bunten Marktplatz, 
 Wo da tanzen Bar und Barin 
 Bei des Dudelsackes Klangen.
 
 NOTES 243 
 
 Atta Troll und seine Gattin, 
 Die geheissen schwarze Mumma, 
 Sind die Tanzer, und es jubeln 
 Vor bewundrung die Baskesen. 
 
 Sterf und ernsthaft, mit Grandezza, 
 Tanzt der edle Atta Troll; 
 Doch der zott'gen Ehehalfte 
 Fehlt die WUrde, fehlt der Anstand. 
 
 ('Heartily laughing they looK down upon 
 the swarming motley market-place where 
 dance the bear and she-bear to the sound of 
 the bagpipes. Atta Troll and his spouse, her 
 name Black Mumma, are the dancers, and 
 the Basques are jubilant with admiration. 
 Stiff and solemn, with a grand air, dances the 
 noble Atta Troll; but his shaggy better half 
 lacks dignity, lacks decorum.') 
 
 115 13-14. Lessing tried his hand at 
 
 it. Gotthold Ephraim Lessing (1729-1781^ 
 in his earlier life wrote comedies modeled upon 
 the French. His later Nathan der Weise 
 (1779), and, more particularly, Minna von 
 Barnhelm (1707), commonly regarded as the 
 first great national comedy in German litera- 
 ture, hardly deserve the sweeping censure of 
 Meredith.
 
 244 THE IDEA OF COMEDY 
 
 115 19. Jean Paul Richter. Johann 
 Paul Friedrich Richter (1763-1825), better 
 known by his pen-name 'Jean Paul,' a Ger- 
 man humorist of imagination and sentiment, 
 whose writings had an influence upon Car- 
 lyle, and hence upon Meredith, not merely in 
 point of stjde, but in thought as well. See 
 Carlyle, Miscellaneous Essays and Life of 
 Jean Paul F. Richter. 
 
 115 20-21. the contrast of Siebenkas 
 with his Lenette. See Blumen-, Frucht-, und 
 Dornenstiicke, oder Ehestand, Tod, und Hoch- 
 zeit des Armenadvocaten F. St. Siebenkas im 
 Reicfismarktflecken Kuhschnappel, von Jean 
 Paul, Berlin, 1796. {Flower-, Fruit-, and 
 Thorn-Pieces, or the Married State, Death, and 
 Wedding of Counsel for the Poor, F. St. Sie- 
 benkas, of the Imperial Market-Town of 
 Kuhschnappel [etc.]). I translate from the 
 Introduction by Paul Nerrlich {Jeaji Pauls 
 Werke, Zweiter Teil, 1885, pp. iv-v): 'Sie- 
 benkas lives — and therewith we have said 
 much — in the Imperial Market-town of 
 Kuhschnappel, as Jean Paul himself lived in 
 Hof ; he groans under the burden of a position 
 with which he is not content; he is poor; and 
 he is married to a wife who, in herself alto- 
 gether exemplary and excellent, and undeni-
 
 NOTES 245 
 
 ably possessed of a certain superiority of soul, 
 is nevertheless absolutely unsuited to her 
 gifted husband, for the reason that, a born 
 housekeeper, she has her limitations and does 
 not understand him. The timid, unassuming, 
 obedient Lenette, with her full, round, rosy lit- 
 tle face is the most plastic character among all 
 the remarkable women Jean Paul has created. 
 Inspiring, of course, she can hardly appear; 
 but she comes before us as a real person, and 
 we follow her career with hvely sympathy. 
 For this one figure of Lenette the nineteenth- 
 century reader would readily exchange all the 
 Beatas, Clotildas, Natalies, and Winifreds, 
 and all the rest of the "beautiful souls" with 
 their various names.' 
 
 115 21-22. A light of the comic is in 
 Goethe. For example, in his Reinecke Fuchs 
 (1793), and in the Mephistopheles of Famt; 
 compare also the scene of the Hexenkiiche in 
 Faust. Three years before his death Meredith 
 thought that the influence of 'the noble* 
 Goethe had been 'the most enduring' in- 
 fluence in his life (see Introduction, p. 15). 
 
 115 25-26. Barbarossa in the hollows of 
 the Untersberg. Frederick I (1123.^-1190) 
 of the Holy Roman Empire, called Barbarossa
 
 246 THE IDEA OF COMEDY 
 
 (Red-beard), was drowned in Cilicia while 
 leading the Third Crusade. According to 
 Bryce his bones were interred at Tyre; but 
 there has been uncertainty regarding the 
 place of his burial. In time, a popular legend 
 which appears in connection with other heroes 
 of various countries became attached to his 
 name, after having been associated with that 
 of Frederick IT. See Bryce, The Holy Roman 
 Empire (1909), p. 181: 'To the southwest of 
 the green plain that girdles in the rock of 
 Salzburg [in Austria], the gigantic mass of the 
 TJntersberg frowns over the road which winds 
 up a long defile to the glen and lake of Berch- 
 tesgaden. There, far up among its limestone 
 crags, in a spot scarcely accessible to human 
 foot, the peasants of the valley point out to 
 the traveler the black mouth of a cavern, and 
 tell that within the red-bearded Emperor lies 
 amid his knights in an enchanted sleep, wait- 
 ing the hour when the ravens shall cease to 
 hover round the peak, and the pear-tree blos- 
 som in the valley, to descend with his Cru- 
 saders and bring back to Germany the golden 
 age of peace and strength and unity.' The 
 history of the legend has been studied by 
 Georg Voigt {Historische Zeitschrift 26.131- 
 187) and Sigmund Riezler (ibid. 32.63-75).
 
 NOTES 247 
 
 Meredith no doubt was familiar with RUck- 
 ert's ballad, Barharossa (1813): 
 
 Der alte Barbarossa, 
 Der Kaiser Friederich. 
 
 In tliis the hero, every hundred years, though 
 imperfectly awake, bids his dwarf go forth 
 to see whether the ravens still 'hover round 
 the peak.' But here the scene accords with 
 the version of the story which places the cave 
 in Thuringia, 'in the high and steep hill of the 
 Kyffiiauser ' (Bryce). 
 
 116 5-G. volkslied or mdrchen. A 
 
 volkslied is a popular or national song, or a 
 popular ballad; a mdrchen is a fairy-tale or 
 traditional popular story. 
 
 116 25-26. susceptible to laughter, as 
 the Arabian Nights will testify. See, for 
 example. The Story of the Porter and the Ladies 
 of Baghdad (The Arabian Nights' Entertain- 
 ments, tr. Lane, ed. Stanley Lane-Poole, 1914, 
 1.5G ff.). 
 
 117 7. Saint-Marc Girardin. Fran- 
 cois Auguste Marc Girardin (1801-1873), 
 known as Saint-Marc Girardin, a French 
 journalist, literary man, and politician, very 
 prolific as a writer on various subjects. He
 
 248 THE IDEA OF COMEDY 
 
 traveled in the Orient, and gave no little at- 
 tention to questions touching the near East. 
 See his Souvenirs de Voyages et d' Etudes, 
 in two volumes (1852, 1853); Souvenirs et 
 Reflexions Politiques d'un Journaliste (1859); 
 La Syrie en 1861, Condition des Chretiens 
 en Orient (1862). Under present conditions, 
 these works are inaccessible to me. 
 
 118 3. There has been fun in Bagdad. 
 See note on 116 25-26; and compare Mere- 
 dith's own sometimes tender, sometimes bois- 
 terous, tale. The Shaving of Shagpat (1855), a 
 burlesque imitation of Oriental story-telling. 
 
 120 14-15. partaking of the foolish- 
 ness to comic perception. One is tempted 
 to regard 'the' before 'foolishness' as a 
 printer's error, and to read: 'partaking of 
 foolishness to the comic perception.' 
 
 121 24-25. spirits that . . . will 
 come when you do call. Compare Shake- 
 speare, 1 King Henry the Fourth 3.1.53-55: 
 
 GLENDOWER. 
 
 I can call spirits from the vasty deep. 
 
 HOTSPUR. 
 
 Why, so can I, or so can any man; 
 But will they come when you do call for 
 them.^
 
 NOTES 249 
 
 122 13. Johnsonian polysyllables. 
 
 Compare Osgood, Selections from the Works 
 of Samuel Johnson, New York, 1909, Intro- 
 duction, p. xxxii: 'In these latter days of 
 literary informality Johnson's preference for 
 words of Latin origin is not much liked. It 
 has been often assumed that he made easy 
 things hard in his fondness for polysyllabic 
 grandeur, but the test of actual and intelli- 
 gent reading will show how sincere was his 
 hatred of "that offense which is always given 
 by unusual words." If the reader sometimes 
 comes upon things "equiponderant" or 
 "colorific," or hears of "the tortuosities of 
 imaginary rectitude," yet he has no doubt at 
 all of Johnson's meaning. Like many great 
 literary men he was a conservative in lan- 
 guage, and strongly averse to coinage or 
 importation; he chooses no words which are 
 not in good English standing.' 
 
 122 18. Due Pasquier. Here and sub- 
 sequently Meredith printed 'Duke' Pas- 
 quier. The story concerns Etienne Denis, 
 Due de Pasquier (17G7-1862), an eminent 
 and highly-respected French statesman, who 
 lived through the Revolution, held office un- 
 der the Empire, and was chancellor and duke 
 under Louis-Philippe. His Memoirs ap-
 
 250 THE IDEA OF COMEDY 
 
 peared posthumously (1893-1894). Meredith 
 may have learned something of him by word 
 of mouth; or possibly through a series of 
 articles on Pasquier by Saint-Marc Girar- 
 din in the Journal des DSbats for September 
 and October, 1862, which I have been unable 
 to consult; but more probably through the 
 work of Louis Favre, Estienne Denis Pasquier 
 . . . Souvenirs de son Dernier Secretaire, Paris, 
 1870 (esp. pp. 438 ff.). 
 
 123 25-26. Imagine an Aristophanic 
 comedy of the Centenarian. The subject 
 is scarcely Aristophanic, since the extant 
 comedies of Aristophanes all have some rela- 
 tion to the interests of the State; the main 
 idea of each play is more general than this. 
 The situation described by Meredith bears a 
 faint resemblance to the debate between 
 Admetus and his aged father in the Alcestis 
 of Euripides, a 'satyric' tragedy containing 
 certain elements of comedy. Possibly the 
 subject would have been more suited to the 
 New Comedy — but indeed it is more in keep- 
 ing with Meredith's conception of Moliere, 
 save for his allusions to the Chorus, which has 
 something of the Aristophanic flavor. 
 
 124 5—6. an accurate measurement. 
 Compare, perhaps, the test of the relative
 
 NOTES 251 
 
 excellence of Aeschylus and Euripides in the 
 Frogs of Aristophanes, where verses of the rival 
 poets are weighed in a huge pair of scales. 
 
 125 5. Dulness. See note on 80 20. 
 
 125 18. throw off incubus, our dread- 
 ful familiar. See Ne^o English Dictionary: 
 'Incubus ... in the Middle Ages often rep- 
 resented as a malignant demon who lay upon 
 men and women. ... A person or tiling that 
 weighs upon and oppresses like a nightmare.' 
 
 126 12-14. A political Aristophanes . . . 
 too much for political Athens. This no- 
 tion, current in the time of Meredith, needs 
 to be revised. The attack on the poet by 
 Cleon, aroused by the comedy of the Baby- 
 lonians (see Acharnians 377 ff.), was un- 
 successful. 'The words of Aristophanes, "I 
 almost perished," appear simply to indicate 
 that his adversary managed to get together a 
 fairly strong minority' (Croiset, Aristophanes 
 and the Political Parties at Athens, p. 51). 
 Still it is to be noted that for a time the poet 
 did not attack either Cleon or the demagogues 
 as a class. Again, the nature of the supposed 
 law of Syracosius limiting the license of 
 Athenian comedy is very doubtful; see 
 Croiset, ibid., pp. 118-119: 'In a fragment of
 
 252 THE IDEA OF COMEDY 
 
 the Hermit by Phrynichus, performed in 414, 
 . . . the poet expressed the wish that Syra- 
 cosius might get the mange; "for," said he, 
 ■"he has deprived me of the Hberty of putting 
 those into my comedy whom I wished to." 
 . . . The schoHast of Aristophanes who quotes 
 this fragment adds: "It seems that Syracosius 
 passed a decree which forbade the introduc- 
 tion of any person by name in comedy." We 
 see that this statement is based on a con- 
 jecture, which appears to have the Hues of 
 Phrynichus as its only foundation. They 
 evidently allude to an actual occurrence, but 
 we do not know what this occurrence was. . . . 
 In any event the alleged decree is very im- 
 probable in itself. Comedies performed about 
 the year 414 abound in proper names and 
 satirical allusions to contemporaries.' 
 
 126 12-13. taking advantage of his 
 lyrical Bacchic license. See the speech 
 of Dicaeopolis in the Acharnians 497-504 
 (Rogers' translation) : 
 
 Bear me no grudge, spectators, if, a beggar, 
 I dare to speak before the Athenian people 
 About the city in a comic play; 
 For what is true even comedy can tell. 
 And I shall utter startling things but true.
 
 NOTES 253 
 
 Nor now can Cleon slander me because, 
 With strangers present, I defame the State. 
 'Tis the Lenaea, and we 're all alone. 
 
 In the Babylonians (see preceding note), a 
 lost play, Aristophanes seems to have given 
 Cleon a handle for a dangerous suit against 
 him, since utterances touching the State had 
 been made in a comedy performed at the 
 festival of the Great Dionysia, when for- 
 eigners were present; whereas the Acharnians 
 was produced at the Lenaea (another festival 
 in honor of Bacchus), when foreigners were 
 not present. 
 
 126 20-21. He hated . . . the Sophist. 
 In the Clouds (see the edition of B. B. Rogers, 
 and also that of Starkie, each containing a 
 translation) Aristophanes ridicules the Soph- 
 ists in the figure of Socrates. 
 
 126 22. the poet. Euripides is fre- 
 quently held up for ridicule by Aristophanes, 
 but particularly in the Frogs (see Rogers* 
 edition, with translation, or the translation 
 by Gilbert Murray). 
 
 126 22-23. the demagogue, 'the saw- 
 toothed monster.' The reference is to 
 Cleon (Wasps 1031): 
 
 dpaffius ^varks evdi)s air'' ipxv^ airrQ tQ /capxap<53ovTt.
 
 254 THE IDEA OF COMEDY 
 
 ('In the very beginning of his bold career 
 he [Aristophanes] grappled with the jag- 
 toothed monster.') See also Knights 1017, 
 and Peace 754. The poet represents him- 
 self as another Heracles; Ms first labor, the 
 struggle with Cleon (in the Knights) , being 
 followed by his encounter with the Sophists 
 (in the Clouds). 
 
 126 26-27. fines, the curtailing of his 
 comic license. See note on 126 12-13. 
 
 126 28-127 1-5. could no longer support 
 the expense of the chorus. In the first nine 
 <^of the extant plays of Aristophanes the chorus 
 is conspicuous and important. In the tenth, 
 the Ecclesiazusae, its functions are much cur- 
 tailed, and in the last, the Plutus, 'it has only 
 about forty lines assigned to it in the course 
 of the dialogue, and in the pauses between the 
 dialogue it sang interludes unconnected with 
 the plot' (Haigh, The Attic Theatre, 1907, 
 p. 287). But it did not entirely disappear even 
 in the earlier poets of the New Comedy {ibid., 
 p. 288). Compare Croiset, Histoire de la 
 Litterature Grecque 3.530-531 (I translate): 
 'When Athens was taken and conquered by 
 Lysander, its institutions were temporarily 
 destroyed. The city had to endure the tyranny
 
 NOTES 255 
 
 pf the Thirtj', and then the civil war for the 
 restoration of the democracy. When the 
 amnesty had been proclaimed the city 
 breathed again, but it was impoverished. . . . 
 People were no longer rich enough to take 
 upon themselves the expense of representa- 
 tions ; the chorus was reduced until it amounted 
 to very little, the parabasis being suppressed. 
 The poet [Aristophanes] . . . had to accom- 
 modate himself, in the second part of his life, 
 to this new regime.' 
 
 127 5. Marathon and Salamis. The 
 plain of Marathon was the scene of the de- 
 cisive battle of the Persians of Darius under 
 Datis by the Greeks under Miltiades in 
 490 B.C. Ten years later the fleet of Xerxes, 
 son of Darius, was destroyed by the Greek 
 navy at Salamis. Aristophanes (c 444- c 385 
 B.C.) refers to the 'men of Marathon, hard 
 in grain as their own oak and maple,' in the 
 Acharnians 181, and makes other comparable 
 allusions; see also the allusion to Marathon 
 and Salamis in the Knights 781-785. After 
 the naval victory of the Spartans under 
 Lysander at Aegospotami in 405 B.C., the 
 humiliation of Athens was complete (404). 
 
 127 7. pleaded for peace. That is, in 
 the Acharnians, the Peace, and the Lysis-
 
 256 THE IDEA OF COMEDY 
 
 irata; see the editions, with translations, of 
 Rogers. 
 
 127 8-9. the captious old creature 
 Demus. A personification of the Athenian 
 people in Aristophanes' Knights; 'the John 
 Bull of Athens,' as Hookham Frere puts it. 
 
 127 14-15. Xenophon, the disciple of 
 Socrates. See The Works of Xenophon, 
 translated by H. G. Dakyns, London, 1897; 
 especially the Memorabilia, in Vol. 3. 
 
 127 15. by his trained rhetoric. After 
 the death of Cyrus, the Greek army, over a 
 thousand miles from home, had become de- 
 moralized through the treacherous murder of 
 their ofiicers by the Persian satrap Tissa- 
 phernes. Hereupon, Xenophon, though but 
 nominally attached to the army, made 
 a masterly address, outlining plans for the 
 retreat, and won the confidence of the sur- 
 viving leaders; he then successfully directed 
 the homeward march. See the Anabasis, 
 Book 3, chapters 1, 2. 
 
 127 18-19. mercenary Greek expedi- 
 tion under Cyrus. See Xenophon, Anabasis, 
 Book 1, chapter 1. 
 
 127 19-20. Athens . . . was on a land- 
 slip, falling. Compare Aristophanes, Wasps
 
 NOTES 257 
 
 (422 B.C.) 1232-1235; the allusion is to 
 Cleon : 
 
 Mon, lustin' for power supreme, ye '11 mak' 
 The city capseeze; she 's noo on the shak'. 
 
 Rogers, who thus translates, adds that the 
 Scholiast says these lines are borrowed from 
 Alcaeus. 
 
 127 23. The aloe had bloomed. The 
 allusion seems to be to the Agave americana 
 (of a genus found in Mexico and Central 
 America), which is popularly confused with 
 the Aloes, and commonly known as the 
 American aloe. This sends up a vertical 
 scape 24-36 feet in height, bearing throughout 
 its length sometimes as many as 4,000 flowers. 
 After flowering, the plant dies down, new 
 plants arising from lateral buds at the ground. 
 According to an erroneous popular notion it 
 blooms once in a hundred years; and hence 
 the name 'century-plant.' Compare the 
 second sentence of Pater's essay. The Poetry 
 of Michelangelo (1873) : 'A certain strangeness, 
 something of the blossoming of the aloe, is 
 indeed an element in all true works of art.' 
 
 127 23-27. Whether right or wrong 
 . . . there is an idea. The construction of 
 the sentence is loose.
 
 258 THE IDEA OF COMEDY 
 
 127 27-28. the idea of good citizenship. 
 
 Compare Croiset {Aristophanes and the Polit' 
 ical Parties at Athens, p. 163): 'His ideal does 
 not appear to have changed; it is always 
 that of a frankly democratic city, but one in 
 which the greatest influence would have been 
 in the hands of a moderate element, of the 
 class of hoplites who were able to furnish their 
 own equipment, or of the small landowners-^ 
 in a word, of the rural democracy. . . . While 
 the poet continues to fight the influential 
 demagogues, he does not attribute to any of 
 them the baneful importance which he for- 
 merly attributed to Cleon, nor does he aim at 
 any particular reform in the State. . . . The 
 idea of harmony, of sincere reconciliation, of 
 close union with a view to the common good, 
 is what constantly inspires him.' 
 
 128 2-3. Swift says of him. In the 
 
 quotation, Meredith reads, 'But as for' and 
 'The dog too witty.' I have restored the 
 proper readings. See Swift's lines To Dr. 
 Sheridan, 1718 {Poems of Jonathan Swift, 
 ed. W. E. Browning, London, 1910, 2.311); 
 I give the first 16 lines (of 33) : 
 
 Whate'er your predecessors taught us, 
 I have a great esteem for Plautus,
 
 NOTES 259 
 
 And think your boys may gather there- 
 
 hence 
 More wit and humor than from Terence; 
 But as to comic Aristophanes, 
 The rogue too vicious and too profane is. 
 I went in vain to look for EupoKs 
 Down in the Strand, just where the New 
 
 Pole is; 
 For I can tell you one thing, that I can. 
 You will not find it in the Vatican. 
 He and Cratinus used, as Horace says. 
 To take his greatest grandees for asses. 
 Poets, in those days, used to venture high; 
 But these are lost full many a century. 
 Thus you may see, dear friend, ex 'pede hence. 
 My judgment of the old comedians. 
 
 128 7-8. Cratinus, Phrynichus, Ameip- 
 sias, Eupolis, and others. Poets of the 
 Old Comedy; see the quotation from Swift in 
 the preceding note; and compare Horace, 
 Satires 1.4.1-5: 
 
 Eupolis atque Cratinus Aristophanesque 
 
 poetae 
 atque alii, quorum comoedia prisca virorum 
 
 est, 
 siquis erat dignus describi, quod mains ac 
 
 fur.
 
 260 THE IDEA OF COMEDY 
 
 quod moechus foret aut sicarius aut alioqui 
 famosus, multa cum libertate notabant. 
 
 ('Eupolis, Cratinus, and Aristophanes, and 
 the other manly poets of the Old Comedy, if 
 any one deserved to be drawn as a rogue and 
 a thief, as a rake or a cut-throat, or some other 
 kind of notable villain, branded him with 
 great freedom.') For the 'others' see Croiset, 
 Histoire de laLitteratureGreeque 3.585 ff., where 
 29 comic poets are named, including the four 
 rivals of Aristophanes mentioned by Mere- 
 dith. Aristophanes pays his respects to 
 Cratinus and Phrynichus repeatedly by 
 name; he names Eupolis in the Clouds 553, 
 and Ameipsias in the Frogs 14. He compares 
 himself with his rivals to their disadvantage 
 in the parabases of the Knights (507-546) and 
 the Clouds (518-562). 
 
 128 10. Donnybrook Fair. Donnybrook 
 is now a part of Dublin, Ireland, in the south- 
 eastern section of the city. The former village 
 of the name was famous for a fair, held under 
 license from King John in 1204, which gained 
 a scandalous notoriety for disorder, and ac- 
 cordingly was discontinued in 1855. 
 
 128 13-14. dragged forth particular 
 women, which he did not. See Rogers'
 
 NOTES 261 
 
 translation, in his edition of the Clouds (551- 
 5G0): 
 
 But the others, when a handle once Hyper- 
 bolus did lend. 
 
 Trample down the wretched caitiff, and his 
 mother, without end. 
 
 In his Maricas the Drunkard, Eupolis the 
 charge began. 
 
 Shamefully my Knights distorting, as he is 
 a shameful man, 
 
 Tacking on the tipsy beldame, just the 
 ballet-dance to keep, 
 
 Phrynichus's prime invention, eat by mon- 
 sters of the deep, 
 
 Then Hermippus on the caitiff opened all 
 his little skill. 
 
 And the rest upon the caitiff are their wit 
 exhausting still; 
 
 And my simile to pilfer *of the Eels' they 
 all combine. 
 
 Whoso laughs at their productions, let him 
 not delight in mme. 
 
 128 17. Rabelais. See note on 76 24-25. 
 
 128 17. Hudibras. A political satire by 
 Samuel Butler (1G12P-I680), directed against 
 the anti-Royalists, and published in three 
 parts (16G3, 1GG4, 1678). It takes its name
 
 262 THE IDEA OF COMEDY 
 
 from its hero. The idea of a Presbyterian 
 knight-errant was doubtless adapted from 
 Don Quixote. The metre is, if one may use 
 the expression, doggerel of a high order; many 
 of the couplets take a lasting hold upon the 
 memory; the plot is slight, and the characters 
 are little more than puppets. From the first, 
 as we learn in Pepys' Diary, the work was ex- 
 traordinarily popular, for the author's wit is 
 brilliant, playing with force and directness 
 upon the political and religious questions of 
 the day. See the edition of Hudihras by 
 A. R. Waller (1905). 
 
 128 20. t\\e Anti- Jacobin. A periodical, 
 begun in 1797 as a weekly newspaper in- 
 spired by George Canning (1770-1827), and 
 edited by the satirist William Gifford. It 
 was designed to support the ministry of Pitt, 
 'to expose the vicious doctrines of the French 
 Revolution' as they were avowed in England, 
 'and to turn into ridicule and contempt the 
 advocates of that event, and the sticklers for 
 peace and parliamentary reform'; see Poetry 
 of the Anti-Jacobin, edited by Charles Ed- 
 monds, London, 1890. Among the writers 
 for it were Canning himself, George Ellis, and 
 John Hookham Frere, later known as a trans- 
 lator of Aristophanes. Two of the most
 
 NOTES 263 
 
 famous contributions. The Friend of Human- 
 ity and the Knife-Grinder and The Loves of the 
 Triangles (a parody of Erasmus Darwin's The 
 Loves of tlie Plants), were jointly composed by 
 Canning and Frere, and Canning, Frere, and 
 Ellis, respectively. 
 
 128 22. Grattan. Henry Grattan (1746- 
 1820), an Irish statesman and brilliant orator, 
 a contemporary of Richard Brinsley Sheri- 
 dan, and more successful in public life than 
 Sheridan, had an unusual command of fierce 
 invective and dignified wit, 
 
 128 25. Wilkes. John Wilkes (1727-1797), 
 an English politician of dubious fame, at- 
 tacked the ministry under George III, and 
 then the King himself; he was arrested, but, 
 being a member of parliament, was released, 
 and obtained large damages at law for his ar- 
 rest. His resistance made him a popular 
 hero, and the proceedings against him for his 
 obscene Essay on Woman did not diminish 
 his popularity. A libel on the secretary of 
 state led to his expulsion from parliament. 
 He was re-elected. When, after his fourth 
 election, the House of Commons declared 
 him ineligible to sit, he was elected sheriff for 
 London and Middlesex. In 1774 he became
 
 264 THE IDEA OF COMEDY 
 
 Lord Mayor of London, and, once more 
 elected to parliament, he was allowed to sit. 
 Wilkes was defended by 'Junius,' and his 
 company was tolerated by Johnson (see 
 Boswell). It is unfortunate that so worthless 
 a character should have been associated in a 
 vital way with the cause of the rights of 
 electors and the growth of the liberty of the 
 press. To Meredith, for the moment, he is a 
 dangerous demagogue, an English Cleon. 
 Compare Byron's humorous treatment of 
 Wilkes in The Vision of Judgment (1822), 
 stanzas 65-73. 
 
 128 27. some plumed Lamachus. La- 
 machus, son of Xenophanes, took part as an 
 Athenian general in the Peloponnesian war; 
 in the seventeenth year of the war (415 B.C.) 
 he was a colleague of Alcibiades and Nicias in 
 che great Sicilian expedition. Aristophanes 
 first mentions him in the Acharnians 270. 
 Rogers, in commenting on the line, calls him 
 'the gallant soldier whom in his lifetime Aris- 
 tophanes was accustomed to satirize as the 
 representative of the war party, but of whom 
 after his death he always speaks in terms of 
 well-deserved admiration.' For the epithet 
 'plume' see Acharnians 965: 
 
 KpaSalvwv Tpfh KaraffKlovs X60OVS. .
 
 NOTES 265 
 
 (Rogers translates: 'And shakes three shad- 
 owy plumes.') 
 
 129 2. Samuel Foote. An English comic 
 playwright and actor (1720-1777), distin- 
 guished for his powers of mimicry, but ac- 
 cording to Dr. Johnson (see Boswell) not true 
 to life. Johnson discussed him with Wilkes. 
 Says Percy Fitzgerald {Samuel Foote, a Biog- 
 raphy, 1910, pp. 199-200): 'Foote was associ- 
 ated with two tumultuous beings — daring, 
 reckless, and ever at war with their fellows. 
 It would be difficult to find in the history of 
 English social life three such specimens of the 
 "stormy" life and brilliancy at the same mo- 
 ment as Wilkes, Churchill, and Foote. . . . 
 They were always "in assailment "—Foote 
 from the stage, Churchill from his desk or 
 from the gaol, Wilkes from the House of Com- 
 mons. ... All three in their respective fines 
 were men of power and capacity, and danger- 
 ous to meddle with.' 
 
 129 G. bald-pate, as he calls himself. 
 Compare the Peace 771: 
 
 <pip€ T^) (pakaKp^, Sbs tQ (pa\aKp<f. 
 
 Rogers translates {Peace 771-774): 
 
 Give this to the bald-head, give that to the 
 bald-head,
 
 266 THE IDEA OF COMEDY 
 
 Aiid take not away 
 That sweetmeat, that cake, but present and 
 
 bestow it 
 On the man with the brow of our wonderful 
 
 Poet! 
 
 129 8-9. the laughter of Hercules. See 
 Aristophanes, Frogs 42-46. 
 
 129 10-11. garlic ... to the game- 
 cocks, to make them fight the better. 
 
 See the Knights 494: 
 
 IV &/j.eLV0Vj (3 raVj iaKopodiapL^voi iJidxV- 
 
 Rogers translates: 'Why, if you are garlic- 
 primed, you '11 fight much better.' It is the 
 scholiast who explains that the metaphor is 
 taken from cock-fighting. The same notion 
 is found in the Acharnians 166. 
 
 130 1-2. Gros rire . . . gros sel. Com- 
 pare Meredith's letter of Nov. 14, 1902, to 
 James Sully on Sully's An Essay on Laughter 
 (Letters of George Meredith, ed. by his son, 
 1912, 2.544): 'On the theme of laughter, you 
 should have dealt with the great stomach 
 laugh of the English — on wliich they found 
 their possession of the sense of humor. A 
 chapter would not have been too much for 
 it.' Would Meredith distinguish 'the gros
 
 NOTES 267 
 
 lire of the Gaul' from 'the great stomach 
 laugh' of the Englisliman? 'Gros seV is rough 
 or gross wit, such as the obscenity of Rabelais. 
 Compare Sainte-Beuve, Moliere (1835), in 
 Portraits Litteraires, 1884, 2.21: 'Apres le sel 
 vn peu gros, 7nais franc, du Cocu Imaginaire.' 
 
 130 4-5. like a monarch with a troop 
 of dwarfs. Perhaps Meredith has no par- 
 ticular monarch in mind, since various Euro- 
 pean kings had collected dwarfs at their 
 courts. The Court of Philip the Fourth of 
 Spain was celebrated for them. Yet I suggest 
 Philip the Second and liis dwarfs as more 
 nearly satisfying the conditions of this al- 
 lusion, and of the allusion immediately fol- 
 lowing to 'the pensive monarch.' See E. J, 
 Wood, Giants and Dwarfs (London, 1868). 
 
 130 4-5. too many jesters kicking the 
 dictionary about. This seems to be Mere- 
 dith's way of saying that the English writers 
 of comedy of the day were too much given to 
 word-play. Burnand (see note on 154 12), 
 doubtless one of the offenders, wrote Antony 
 and Cleopq,tra, or Ilis-tory and Iler-story in a 
 Modern Nilo-metre (1866); Elizabeth, or The 
 Invisible Armada (1870); and F. M. Julius 
 Cnaesar, the Irregidar Rum 'un (1870).
 
 268 THE IDEA OF COMEDY 
 
 130 14-15. in memoirs of a preceding 
 age. Meredith reads: 'in Memoirs of a 
 Preceding Age'; but he often uses capital 
 letters for emphasis, and is generally incon- 
 sistent in such matters. I have been unable 
 to identify any work with the title Memoirs 
 of a Preceding Age, and at present have no 
 reason to believe in the existence of such a 
 work; accordingly the capitals have been re- 
 duced to lower case. See next note. 
 
 130 15-16. the . . . hostess of a great 
 house of reception. As Mr. A. W. Pollard 
 suggests to me, this doubtless means Eliza- 
 beth Vassall Fox, Lady Holland (1770- 
 1845), who presided over a circle of literary 
 men and AVhig politicians at Holland House. 
 See Princess Marie Liechtenstein, Holland 
 House (London, 1874) 1.142 ff. Sydney 
 Smith {ibid. 1.161) had heard 'five hundred 
 traveled people assert that there is no such 
 agreeable house in Europe as Holland House ' ; 
 and he shared their opinion. See also Fyvie, 
 Notable Dames and Notable Men of the 
 Georgian Era (London, 1910). Another 
 possibility is Lady Hester Stanhope; compare 
 the Memoirs of the Lady Hester Stanhope, as 
 related by herself in conversations with her 
 physician, 3 vols., London, 1845, published
 
 NOTES 269 
 
 without warrant and anonymously by Dr. 
 C. L. Meryon. The book concerns the latter 
 part of her Ufe, when she lived in the Orient, 
 a vulgarly tyrannous lady indeed; see the 
 edition of 1846— for example: 1.104, 190, 247, 
 249, 255, 262, 267, 274. Kinglake calls her 
 'Chatham's fiery granddaughter,' and says 
 {Eothen, chapter 8): 'After the death of Lady 
 Chatham, which happened in 1803, she lived 
 under the roof of her uncle, the second Pitt; 
 and when he resumed the Government in 1804, 
 she became the dispenser of much patronage, 
 and sole secretary of state for the department 
 of treasury banquets.' Her satirical remarks 
 upon individuals clung to them. This earlier 
 period of her career corresponds very well with 
 the description in Meredith. 
 
 132 4-5. splinters. In the sense of 
 surgical splints, as here, the word is regarded 
 by the New English Dictionary as obsolete or 
 dialectal. 
 
 132 19. Fielding. See note on 94 24. 
 
 132 20. Goldsmith. See note on 94 22- 
 23. 
 
 132 20-21. Miss Austen . . . Emma and 
 Mr. Elton. Jane Austen (1775-1817) pub- 
 lished her novel Emma anonymously in 1816.
 
 270 THE IDEA OF COMEDY 
 
 Of the author. Sir Walter Scott said (Diary, 
 March 14, 1826; see Lockhart's Life): 'That 
 young lady had a talent for describing the 
 involvements, and feelings, and characters of 
 ordinary life wliich is to me the most wonder- 
 ful I ever met with.' 
 
 132 23. Gait's neglected novels. See, 
 for example. The Atmals of the Parish (1821) 
 by John Gait (1779-1839). Gait was most 
 successful in dealing with aspects of Scottish 
 rural life. 
 
 132 25. In our poetic literature the 
 comic is delicate. Is the reference again 
 to the pastoral drama? See note on 86 16. 
 
 133 3. larmoyant. 'Tearful.' Compare 
 one of the quotations in the New English 
 Dictionary, s.v.: '1897 Naturalist 270. An- 
 other strange face, though not so larmoyant, 
 provocative of laughter unto tears.' 
 
 133 22. Dorine. See Moliere, Le Tar- 
 tuff e St A. 
 
 134 1. a satiric rod. Compare Ben 
 Jonson, Every Man out of his Humor, In- 
 duction : 
 
 My soul 
 Was never ground into such oily colors. 
 To flatter vice, and daub iniquity;
 
 NOTES 271 
 
 But, with an armed and resolved hand, 
 I '11 strip the ragged follies of the time 
 Naked as at their birth . . . 
 
 . . . and with a whip of steel 
 Print wounding lashes in their iron ribs. 
 I fear no mood stamped in a private brow. 
 When I am pleased t' unmask a public vice. 
 
 134 22. Fielding's Jonathan Wild. See 
 notes on 94 24 and 135 7-8. 
 
 135 3. villains' ratiocination. 'The 
 exclamation of Lady Booby, when Joseph 
 defends himself — "Your virtue! ... I shall 
 never survive it!" etc. — is another case. — 
 Joseph Andrews. Also that of Miss Matthews 
 in her narrative to Booth: "But such are the 
 friendships of women." — Amelia.' (Meredith's 
 footnote.) The first quotation is from Field- 
 ing's The History of the Adventures of Joseph 
 Andreics and his Friend Mr. Abraham Adams 
 [etc.] (1742), Book 1, chapter 8; the second 
 from Fielding's Amelia (1752), Book 1, 
 chapter 8. Meredith prints the words 'Your 
 virtue!' in italics; I follow the edition of 
 Fielding by Henley (1902) in using roman 
 letters. 
 
 135 7-8. on referring to Jonathan 
 Wild, I do not find it. Nevertheless the
 
 272 THE IDEA OF COMEDY 
 
 basis of the allusion is there. See The Life 
 of Mr. Jonathan Wild the Great (1743), Book 
 1, chapter 2, seventh paragraph (ed. Henley, 
 1902, p. 6); Fielding, however, refers, not to 
 Jonathan, but to a member of the family in a 
 previous generation: 'After the death of Ed- 
 ward the family remained in some obscurity 
 down to the reign of Charles the First, when 
 James Wild distinguished himself on both 
 sides the question in the civil wars, passing 
 from one to t'other, as Heaven seemed to 
 declare itself in favor of either party. At 
 the end of the war, James not being rewarded 
 according to his merits, as is usually the case 
 of such impartial persons, he associated him- 
 self with a brave man of those times, whose 
 name was Hind, and declared open war with 
 both parties. He was successful in several 
 actions [ = robberies], and spoiled manj^ of 
 the enemj'; till at length, being overpowered 
 and taken, he was, contrary to the law of 
 arms, put basely and cowardly to death by a 
 combination between twelve men of the en- 
 emy's party, who, after some consultation, 
 unanimously agreed on the said murder.' 
 So much for James Wild. Jonathan Wild, a 
 notable felon, was born at Wolverhampton, 
 Staffordshire, about 1682, and was executed,
 
 NOTES 273 
 
 after a celebrated trial, at Tyburn on May 
 24, 1725. 
 
 135 13. The look of Fielding upon 
 Richardson. The publication of Pamela 
 (1740) by Samuel Richardson (1689-1761) 
 inspired Fielding with the idea of a parody, 
 and led him to begin Joseph Andrews (see 
 note on 135 3) ; but as the characters of Field- 
 ing, especially that of Parson Adams, grew 
 under his hands, his work became an inde- 
 pendent novel. 
 
 135 16. Parson Adams. Mr. Abraham 
 Adams the curate, in Fielding's Joseph An- 
 drews; a kindly, ingenuous person, of many 
 peculiarities. 
 
 135 28. Byron had splendid powers of 
 humor. Compare Meredith's estimate as 
 reported by Edward Clodd {Fortnightly Re- 
 view 92.24): 'Byron has humor in his satires; 
 the roguish element in these is unsurpassed. 
 But his high flights are theatrical; he was a 
 sham sentimentalist.' The date of the utter- 
 ance is late — possibly 1906. 
 
 136 8. 'Sobald er reflectirt ist er ein 
 Kind.' For 'reflectirt' Meredith reads 'phi- 
 losophirt.' The quotation as it now appears 
 in the text is found in Goethe's Gesprdche, ed.
 
 274 THE IDEA OF COMEDY 
 
 von Biedermann, 3.156; the conversation of 
 Goethe is that of Jan. 18, 1825, and the pas- 
 sage in question: 'Aber Lord Byron ist nur 
 gross, wenv. er dichtet; sobald er reflectirt ist 
 er ein Kind.' (*But Lord BjTon is great only 
 as a poet; the moment he reflects he is a 
 child.') The remark is addressed to Ecker- 
 mann. 
 
 136 9—10. Carlyle sees him in this 
 comic light. Carlyle frequently adverts to 
 Byron; for example, in Past and Present, 
 Book 3, chapter 4 {Works, Centenary Edition, 
 10.154): 'A gifted Byron rises in his wrath; 
 and feeling too surely that he for liis part is 
 not "happy," declares the same in very vio- 
 lent language, as a piece of news that may be 
 interesting. It evidently has surprised him 
 much.' 
 
 136 14-15. Irony . . . savage, as in 
 Swift. See, for example, A Modest Proposal 
 for Preventing the Children of Poor People from 
 Being a Burthen to their Parents, or Coun- 
 try, and for Making them Beneficial to the 
 Publick, Dublin, 1729, in which Jonathan 
 Swift (1667-1745) gravely makes use of 
 statistics to show the advantage that would 
 arise, in the helpless condition of Ireland, if
 
 NOTES 275 
 
 the young children of the poor were to be 
 sold as food for the rich. The author is not 
 self-seeking {Prose Works, ed. Temple Scott, 
 7.216): 'I have no children by wliich I can 
 propose to get a single penny, the young- 
 est being nine years old, and my wife past 
 child-bearing.' 
 
 136 16-17. sedate, as in Gibbon, with a 
 malicious. A good instance of irony may be 
 found in The Autobiographies of Edward Gib- 
 bon (1737-1791.), ed. Murray, London, 1896, 
 pp. 64 ff., where the great historian discusses 
 the University of Oxford as it was when he 
 was a student there. But Meredith doubtless 
 thinks of Gibbon's treatment of Christianity 
 in The Decline and Fall of the Roman Empire, 
 for example, in chapter 15; compare what 
 Meredith said (about 1903) to Edward Clodd 
 {Fortnightly Revieio 92.28): *I have been re- 
 reading Gibbon with increased appreciation. 
 The subtlety of his remarks on Christianitj', 
 and the dexterity of conveying through veiled 
 implication of belief his scepticism, is delight- 
 ful.' See also Introduction, p. 10. 
 
 136 28-137 2. Don Quixote . . . the 
 knight and squire. For Don Quixote and 
 his squire, Sancho Panza, see The Ingenious
 
 276 THE IDEA OF COMEDY 
 
 Geritleman Don Quixote of la Maticha, written 
 by Miguel de Cervantes Saavedra (1547-1616), 
 tr. Jolin Ormsby, ed. Fitzmauriee-Kelly, 1901; 
 or see the translation by James Robinson 
 Smith, revised edition. See also Miguel de 
 Cervantes Saavedra, a Memoir, by James Fitz- 
 maurice-Kelly, Oxford, 1913 (Spanish trans- 
 lation, revised, by B. Sanin Cano, 1917). 
 
 137 19-20. a living great, though not 
 creative, humorist. Meredith means 
 Thomas Carlyle (1795-1881). He was over 
 eighty-one years old when Meredith delivered 
 the lecture, and had long since passed the 
 period of his activity as a writer. In calling 
 him 'not creative,' Meredith doubtless wishes 
 to remind us that Carlyle was neither novel- 
 ist nor comic poet. 
 
 137 20-21. the skull of Yorick. See 
 
 Shakespeare, Hamlet 5.1.179-202. 
 
 137 22-24. primitive man . . . under 
 the gorgeous robes of ceremonial. See 
 
 Carlyle, Sartor Resartus (1833-1834); for ex- 
 ample, Book 1, chapters 5, 9. There is an 
 excellent edition of Sartor Resartus by Mac 
 Mechan, Boston, 1896. 
 
 138 8-9. emissary eagle . . . Jove. 
 
 In classical writers the eagle is frequently re-
 
 NOTES 277 
 
 ferred to as the herald of Zeus. See lUad 
 24.310, and Euripides, Ion 158-160. 
 
 138 9. the true Hero. See Carlyle, 
 On Heroes, Hero-Worship, and the Heroic in 
 History, Six Lectures, Reported, with Emenda- 
 tions and Additions (1841). Heroes and Hero- 
 Worship has been well edited by IVIac 
 Mechan, Boston, 1901. 
 
 138 18. Sterne . . . sentimental. Lau- 
 rence Sterne (1713-1768), author of The Life 
 a7id Opinions of Tristram Shandy (1759-1767) 
 and A Sentimental Journey through France 
 and Italy (1768). 
 
 138 23. mesure et goui. 'Restraint and 
 good taste.' 
 
 138 24. own how much they owe to 
 Moliere. See, for example, Sainte-Beuve, 
 Moliere (1835), in Portraits Litteraires, 1884, 
 2.1-63. 
 
 139 18. Poverty, says the satirist. I 
 
 have put the remainder of the sentence in 
 quotation-marks, since Meredith translates 
 from Juvenal, Satires 3.152-153: 
 
 nil habet infelix paupertas durius in se 
 quam quod ridiculos homines facit. 
 139 24. Caleb Balderstone. The aged 
 butler, devoted to the interests of the Master
 
 278 THE IDEA OF COMEDY 
 
 of Ravenswood, in Tlie Bride of Lammermoor 
 (1819) of Sir Walter Scott (1771-1832); see, 
 for example, chapter 7. 
 
 139 27-28. 'poor relatives.' See the es- 
 say of Charles Lamb on Poor Relations (Works 
 of Charles and Mary Lamb, ed. Lucas, 
 2.157-163); and compare Meredith, The 
 Egoist, chapter 1. 
 
 140 7-10. Prince Regent . . . burst 
 into tears at a sarcastic remark of Beau 
 Brummeirs. No such anecdote seems to be 
 contained in the Life of Beau Brummell by- 
 Captain William Jesse or the Life of George 
 IV by Percy Fitzgerald. Can it be that 
 Meredith has transformed the well-known 
 story of the 'cut' by the Prince and the re- 
 tort by the beau, after their estrangement? 
 The incident is conveniently found in the 
 article, Beau Brummell, by Florence Ellicott 
 in Temple Bar (1872) 35.236: 'He [the Regent, 
 subsequently George IV] greeted them all 
 with some words of friendly recognition, with 
 the exception of Brummell, at whom he stared 
 as if he did not know who he was, or why he 
 was there. Stung to the quick by this public 
 insult, the beau said in a loud tone to Alvan- 
 ley, immediately their royal guest had passed
 
 NOTES 279 
 
 on: "Alvanley, who's your fat friend?" The 
 Prince heard the remark, and was as much 
 mortified by it as even its author could have 
 desired.' George Bryan Brummell (1778- 
 1840) gained a reputation at Eton and Oxford 
 for the exquisiteness of his dress and the per- 
 fection of his manners. After some experi- 
 ence in the army, he came into a fortune, 
 entered society, and passed for a model of 
 elegance. When he had lost the protection 
 of the Prince Regent, his gambling debts led 
 him to escape across the Channel. He died 
 in penury at Caen, France. 
 
 141 3-4. One excellent test ... as I 
 have said. See pp. 75 S., 118-119. 
 
 141 11-12. a Spirit overhead. See 
 
 86 7-8. 
 
 142 6-7. out of proportion. See the 
 
 Poetics of Aristotle, begmning of chapter 5 
 (Cooper, Aristotle On the Art of Poetry, p. 14) : 
 'As for comedy, this ... is an artistic imi- 
 tation of men of an inferior moral bent; 
 faulty, however, not in any or every way, but 
 only in so far as their shortcommgs are 
 ludicrous; for the ludicrous is a species or 
 part, not all, of the ugly. It may be described 
 as that kind of shortcoming and deformity
 
 280 THE IDEA OF COMEDY 
 
 which does not strike us as painful, and 
 causes no harm to others; a ready example is 
 afforded by the comic mask, which is lu- 
 dicrous, being ugly and distorted, without 
 any suggestion of pain.' 
 
 143 17-18. Moliere . . . Ecole des 
 
 Femmes. In his Preface to L' Ecole des 
 Femmes (1662) Moliere says of La Critique de 
 V Ecole des Femmes (1663): "L"id6e de ce dia- 
 logue, ou, si Von veut, de cette petite comidie, 
 me vint apres les deux ou trois premieres repre- 
 sentations de ma piece. '' ('The idea of this 
 dialogue, or, if you prefer, of this little com- 
 edy, came to me after the first two or three 
 performances of my play.') He alludes in this 
 Priface to his critics. 
 
 144 9-12. a mild moon's ray of it . . . 
 in Comus. Compare lines 4-6 of Milton's 
 Comus (1634) : 
 
 In regions mild of calm and serene air, 
 Above the smoke and stir of this dim spot 
 Which men call earth; 
 
 and also Comus 115-118: 
 
 The sounds and seas, with all their finny 
 
 drove. 
 Now to the moon in wavering morrice move.
 
 NOTES 281 
 
 And on the tawny sands and shelves 
 Trip the pert fairies and the dapper elves. 
 
 144 12. Pope. See note on 77 22. 
 
 144 12-13. the daylight side of the 
 night half-obscuring Cowper. Compare 
 The Diverting History of John Gilpin (1782) of 
 William Cowper (1731-1800) with the same 
 poet's Lines written during a Period of In- 
 sanity (1763); and see, perhaps, The Castaway 
 (Cowper's Poetical Works, ed. Milford, Ox- 
 ford, 1907, p. 431), which begins: 
 
 Obscurest night involved the sky, 
 Th' Atlantic billows roared, 
 WTien such a destined wretch as I 
 Washed headlong from on board. 
 Of friends, of hope, of all, bereft. 
 His floating home for ever left. 
 
 This poem was written in 1799. 
 
 144 18-19. the spectacle of Bossuet 
 over the dead body of Moliere. Moliere 
 died of haemorrhage on the night of February 
 17, 1673, having left the stage where he was 
 playing the part of the Hj^pochondriac in his 
 comedy of Le Malade Imaginaire. The great 
 pulpit-orator and Roman Catholic contro- 
 versialist Jacques Benigne Bossuet (1627-
 
 282 THE IDEA OF COMEDY 
 
 1704) was then in attendance at the Court of 
 Louis XIV. In 1693 he published his Maximes 
 et Reflexions sur la Comedie, near the begin- 
 ning of which (chapter 3) occurs the following 
 passage: '^La 'premiere chose que jy reprends, 
 cest qu'un homme qui se dit pretre ait pu 
 avaneer que la comidie, telle gu'elle est au- 
 jourd'hui, n'a rien de contraire aux bonnes 
 moeurs, et qu'elle est meme si epuree a I'heure 
 qu'il est sur le theatre frangais, qu'il n'y a 
 rien que I'oreille la plus chaste ne pHt en- 
 tendre. II faudra done que nous passions 
 pour honnetes les impiHes et les infamies dont 
 sont pleines les comedies de Moliere, ou qu'on 
 ne veuille pas ranger parmi les pieces d'au- 
 jourd'hui celles d'un auteur qui a expirS, pour 
 ainsi dire, a nos yeux, et qui remplit encore d 
 present tous les theatres des equivoques les plus 
 grossieres dont on ait jamais infectS les oreilles 
 des chrHiensJ ('The first thing which I rep- 
 rehend is that a man who calls himself priest 
 could maintain that comedy, such as it is 
 to-day, contains nothing contrary to good 
 morals, and that it is so correct at the present 
 hour on the French stage as to offer nothing to 
 which the chastest ear might not listen. We 
 must, accordingly, class as moral the impious 
 and infamous matters with which the come-
 
 NOTES 283 
 
 dies of MoHere are filled; or else we must not 
 count among the plays of to-day those of an 
 author who expired, so to speak, before our 
 eyes, and who still, even now, fills our theatres 
 with the most obscene jokes that ever cor- 
 rupted the ears of Christians.') 
 
 144 22. We have had comic pulpits. 
 
 Swift and Sterne might serve to illustrate the 
 assertion (compare notes on 128 2-3 and 138 
 18); see also Leigh Hunt on Isaac Barrow 
 (1630-1677), in Wit and Humor {Selections 
 from the English Poets 3.2-3), But perhaps 
 the most suitable instance of a clergyman 
 who made eflfective use of wit and humor in 
 the pulpit is Robert South (1634-1716); see 
 W. H. Hutton, Divines of the Church of Eng- 
 land, 1660-1700, in the Cambridge History of 
 English Literature 8.335-353. Doubtless the 
 name of Sydney Smith (1771-1845) should 
 be included in any list, however brief. 
 
 145 14-15. Aristophanes promises his 
 auditors. See the Wasps 1051-1059 (tr. 
 Rogers) : 
 
 But O for the future, my Masters, pray 
 Show more regard for a genuine Bard 
 Who is ever inventing amusements new 
 And fresh discoveries, all for you.
 
 284 THE IDEA OF COMEDY 
 
 Make much of his play, and store it away. 
 
 And into your wardrobes throw it 
 With the citrons sweet; and if this you do. 
 Your clothes will be fragrant, the whole 
 year through. 
 With the volatile wit of the Poet. 
 
 146 10. the scene in the Frogs. See 
 
 the Frogs 612-673. For this as for other 
 references to Aristophanes consult the edition, 
 with a masterly translation, of B. B. Rogers. 
 The Frogs has also been translated by Hook- 
 ham Frere, and by Gilbert Murray. Each of 
 the three translations has its own distinctive 
 merits. 
 
 146 18-19. or horsemen sighted. Mere- 
 dith reads 'horseman'; but the Greek is 
 {Frogs 653): "nnr^as opd' — 'I see horsemen.' 
 
 146 23. the supper in the manner of 
 the ancients.' Meredith prints thus: 
 
 the Supper in the Manner of the Ancients ; 
 
 but Smollett wrote: 
 
 an Entertainment in the Manner of the 
 Ancients . 
 
 See chapter 44 of The Adventures of 
 Peregrine Pickle (1751) by Tobias George
 
 NOTES 285 
 
 Smollett (1721-1771); the chapter-heading, 
 or argument, reads (Smollett, Works, ed. 
 Henley, 1899, Peregrine Pickle 1.281): 'The 
 Doctor prepares an Entertainment in the 
 Manner of the Ancients, which is attended 
 with divers ridiculous Circumstances.' The 
 humor arises from the variety and objection- 
 able and surprising nature of the viands, and 
 the effect upon the banqueters. 
 
 147 7. the Book. See Introduction, 
 pp. 34 ff. 
 
 148 9. weighed themselves in the . . . 
 balance. A Biblical figure; see Da. 5.27: 
 'TEKEL. Thou art weighed in the balances, 
 and art found wanting.' 
 
 149 2. whirli-go-round. Compare 
 whirligig and merry-go-round. Meredith, who 
 prints ' whirl igoround,' had already used the 
 word in Rhoda Fleming (1865), chapter 43: 
 'And he was a faithful servant, till one day he 
 got up on a regular whirly-go-round, and ever 
 since . . . such a little boy!' See also Harry 
 Richmond (1871) 3.56: 'like one who has been 
 gazing on the whirligoround.' Wright, Eng- 
 lish Dialect Dictionary {s. v. 'Whirly') records 
 the word from Gloucester, Dorset, and Devon- 
 shire.
 
 286 THE IDEA OF COIHEDY 
 
 149 22-23. the land of culture. Com- 
 pare the statement of Meredith (Edward 
 Clodd, George Meredith: Some Recollections, in 
 the Fortnightly Review 92.21): 'I learned very 
 little at school, until I was sent to Neuwied, 
 the learning of German proving a good thing 
 when my friend Hardman, of the Morning 
 Post, sent me as correspondent in 1866 on 
 the outbreak of war between Austria and 
 Italy.' 
 
 150 6. caballeros. Spanish gentlemen. 
 See Latin caballarius (horseman), French 
 chevalier (knight), English cavalier. 
 
 150 26. Heinrich Heine. See note on 
 115 13-17. 
 
 151 8. La Bruyere. Jean de la Bru- 
 yere (1645-1696), author of the Caracteres 
 (1688); see the edition of his works (1865- 
 1878) by G. Servois in the collection of I^es 
 Grands tlcrivains de la France; and see note 
 on 110 25-26. 
 
 151 8-9. La Fontaine. Jean de La 
 Fontaine (1621-1695); see the edition of his 
 works (1883-1892) by H. Regnier in Les 
 Grands Ecrivains. 
 
 151 10. a Trissotin. The name of a 
 'bel esprit' — a poetaster and coxcomb — in
 
 NOTES 287 
 
 Moliere's comedy of Les Femmes Savantes 
 (1672); the name is compounded of tri 
 ('thrice') and sot ('fool' or 'blockhead') — 
 that is to say, 'Thrice-fool,' or 'Fool Cubed.' 
 
 151 10. a Vadius. The name of a 
 'savant' in the same comedy; he is a grave 
 and heavy pedant. 
 
 151 18. Orson. One of the twin-brothers 
 in the story of Valentine and Orson; he was 
 suckled by a bear, and had the uncouth man- 
 ners of the forest, whereas Valentine was 
 reared by their uncle. King Pepin, and grew 
 to be a courtier. The more primitive version 
 of the tale is called Valentine and the Nameless 
 One. The later version, appearing as a 
 French romance of the Charlemagne cycle, 
 was composed in the time of Charles VIII; 
 it was first printed in 1489 at Lyons. For 
 the widespread popularity of the story, and 
 for an account of its various subsequent 
 adaptations, see Wilhelm Seelmann, Valen- 
 tin und Namelos, in N iederdeutsche Denk- 
 mdler. Vol. 4 (1884). 
 
 151 23. Titan. Hyperion.' The revolt 
 of the Titans against their father Uranos is 
 first recounted in the Theogony of Hesiod 
 (see Mair's translation, or the translation in
 
 288 THE IDEA OF COMEDY 
 
 the edition of Sandy's). They succeeded in 
 setting up their youngest brother Kronos as 
 their ruler; but a new struggle ensued, be- 
 tween Kronos and his son Zeus, in which the 
 Titans took different sides. Those supporting 
 Kronos represent the wild, disorderly forces of 
 nature, finally defeated by the Olympian dei- 
 ties under Zeus, who stand for law and order. 
 152 2-3. VAmi Fritz. A comedy by 
 Erckmann-Chatrian (Emile Erckmann and 
 Alexandre Chatrian), first produced on De- 
 cember 4, 1876, at the theatre of the Comedie 
 Frangaise, Paris (Meredith being then en- 
 gaged in composing his Essay). It is based 
 upon their novel of the same name (1864), 
 which represents Alsatian life before the war 
 of 1870. The hero, Fritz Kobus, a kindly, 
 well-to-do sybarite of thirty-six, much sought 
 after by mothers and daughters, eventually 
 marries little Suzel, the young daughter of his 
 farm-manager. The comedy in no way rec- 
 ognizes the recent loss of Alsace by France 
 to Germany. It was promptly attacked by 
 the conservative element of the French press 
 for an alleged lack of patriotism in the au- 
 thors, but was received by the public with 
 unanimous applause, and has continued to 
 hold the stage.
 
 NOTES 289 
 
 152 10. our leaders in scholarship. In 
 1906 Meredith writes to H. R. D. Anders: 
 'I remember reading in my youth Otto 
 Jahn's memoir of the great philologer Her- 
 mann and his indefatigable devotion to work, 
 with a sigh of regret that he, who had his 
 rivals at home, had so few, if any, among us.' 
 See Introduction, p. 14. 
 
 152 18. Goethe. See p. 115 and note on 
 115 21-22. 
 
 153 8. The Muse of most of them 
 is an Aventuriere. Meredith regards as 
 typical of French comedy in the middle of the 
 nineteenth century, not Alexandre Dumas 
 the younger (1824-1895), who, while con- 
 tending for the sanctity of marriage, has a 
 special interest in persons like himself, not 
 born in wedlock, and in the moral regenera- 
 tion of the fallen when they experience true 
 love; but rather Emile Augier (1820-1889), 
 author of L' Aventuriere (1848) andLe Mariage 
 d'Olympe (1855), Of Augier, Ferdinand 
 Brunetiere says (I translate from his Manuel 
 de VHistoire de la Litterature Frangaise, 1899, 
 p. 492 n.): 'His originality really lies in the 
 force, somewhat brutal, which he has put at 
 the service of certain ideas that are commonly
 
 290 THE IDEA OF COMEDY 
 
 defended with some measure of timidity or 
 hesitation, for the reason that they are not 
 less commonplace than just. Thus he has 
 firmly established the proposition that a good 
 name is better than riches, and that love 
 does not restore the innocence of courtesans.' 
 Compare Gustave Lanson (I translate from 
 his Histoire de la Litterahire Franqaise, 1901, 
 p. 1050): 'He is to be judged by his work in 
 prose, not by the awkward eloquence of 
 L' Aventuriere ... or the antique graces of 
 Philiherte (1853). Augier is a bourgeois; and 
 his drama gives expression to the ideas of a 
 bourgeois of 1850, of sane mind, right feel- 
 ings, firm will, and spotless morality. At the 
 outset he rejected romanticism; in GabrieUe 
 (1849) he unmasked the fallacy of the ro- 
 mantic ideal, the danger of the unbridled and 
 supreme passion. To the sentimentality pro- 
 ceeding from romanticism, to any rehabilita- 
 tion of courtesans through hypocritical or 
 ingenuous pity, he gave a check in Le Mariage 
 d'Olympe.' 
 
 153 14. nostalgic de la boue. See 
 
 Augier, Le Mariage d'Olympe 1.1: 
 
 LE MARQms. Mettez un canard sur un 
 lac au milieu des cygnes, vous verrez qu'il
 
 NOTES 291 
 
 regrettera sa mare, et finira par y re- 
 tourner. 
 
 MONTRiCHARD. La nostalgic de la boue! 
 
 BAXJDEL. Vous n'admettez done pas de 
 Madeleines repentantes? 
 
 LE i\L\RQUis. Si fait, mais au desert 
 seulement. 
 
 ('the mabquis. Put a duck on a lake in 
 the midst of swans, and you will see he will 
 regret the loss of liis puddle, and will end by 
 returning thither. 
 
 ' MONTRICHARD. Homesickness for the mire! 
 
 'baudel. Then you do not admit the ex- 
 istence of repentant Magdalens? 
 
 'the marquis. Yes indeed, but only in 
 the wilderness.') 
 
 154 6-7. the aventurierea have a case 
 to plead against him. In Rhoda Fleming 
 (1865) Meredith had represented Dalilia 
 Fleming as the victim of an astute young man 
 of the world; in spite of her fall she preserves 
 her purity of heart. The novel gave offense 
 to the ultra-Puritanical in England. 
 
 154 12. circle of a spy-glass. In 1877 
 these words were followed by a passage (see 
 Variant Readings, p. 167) on several of Mere- 
 dith's contemporaries who wrote for the
 
 292 THE IDEA OF COMEDY 
 
 comic stage, including Robertson, Taylor, 
 Gilbert, and Burnand. Thomas William 
 Robertson (1829-1871), less successful as an 
 actor than as a dramatist, early retired from 
 the stage, and wrote a number of plays that 
 were very popular; for example, David Gar- 
 rick (1864), Societij (1865), and Ca^te (1867). 
 Tom Taylor (1817-1880), after distinguish- 
 ing himself as a student at Glasgow and Cam- 
 bridge, was professor of the English language 
 and literature in the London University, 
 became a barrister in 1845, and about 1846 
 took up the career of dramatist, writing or 
 adapting upwards of one hundred pieces for 
 the stage; among these were Still Waters Run 
 Deep (1855) and Our American Coicsin (1858). 
 From 1874 to 1880 he was editor of Punch. 
 Sir William Schwenck Gilbert (1836-1911)— 
 knighted in 1907 — author of the Bab Ballads, 
 collaborated with Sir Arthur Sullivan in a 
 long series of comic operas, several of which 
 attained a high degree of popularity in Amer- 
 ica; for example, H. M. S. Pinafore (1878), 
 The Pirates of Penzance (1879), Patience 
 (1881), and The Mikado (1885). When Mere- 
 dith wrote the Essay, Gilbert was perhaps 
 best known for his fairy comedies, such as 
 Pygmalion and Galatea (1871); The Happy
 
 NOTES 293 
 
 Land (1873) was received with great en- 
 thusiasm. Sir Francis Cowley Burnand 
 (1836-)— knighted in 1902— founded the 
 Amateur Dramatic Club at Cambridge, and 
 later wrote Black-Eyed Susan and other bur- 
 lesques, with comedies and farces. He was 
 editor of Punch from 1880 to 1906. See note 
 on 130 5-6. 
 
 154 13. the fly in amber. Compare 
 Herrick, Hesperides, No. 817 {Works, ed. 
 Pollard. 1898, 2.86): 
 
 I saw a fly within a bead 
 
 Of amber cleanly buried; 
 
 The urn was little, but the room 
 
 More rich than Cleopatra's tomb. 
 
 Compare also Martial, Epigrams 4.32: 
 
 Et latet et lucet Phaethontide condita gutta, 
 ut videatur apis nectare clusa suo. 
 
 dignum tantorum pretium tulit ilia laborum; 
 credibile est ipsam sic voluisse mori. 
 
 ('Preserved in a bead of amber [ = 'tear 
 of the sisters of Phaethon'], there lurks and 
 gleams a bee, so that she seems to be enclosed 
 in her own honey. A worthy reward she had 
 for all her labors. It is credible that she 
 wished to die thus.')
 
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 297
 
 298 THE IDEA OF COMEDY 
 
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 302 THE IDEA OF COMEDY 
 
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 n 
 
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 INDEX
 
 INDEX OF TITLES AND 
 PROPER NAMES 
 
 [The Index contains no references to names and 
 titles as included in the Analysis of the Essay 
 (pp. 45-71) or the Bibliography (pp. 297-307). 
 References to Meredith, to the Essay on Comedy, 
 and to the Comic Spirit, are not recorded.] 
 
 Abigail 84, 193 
 
 Abstract of a Comparison be- 
 twixt Aristophanes and 
 Menander (of Plutarch?) 
 227 . 
 
 Acaste 217 
 
 Acharnians of Aristophanes 
 18-t, 251, 252, 253, 255, 264, 
 266 
 
 Achilles 21, 78, 180 
 
 Adams, Parson 135, 273 
 
 Addison 181 
 
 Adelphi of Terence 108, 109, 
 111, 223, 229, 230, 236 
 
 'A5eA</)ol B' of Menander 223 
 
 Admetus 250 
 
 Adriatic 22 
 
 Aeacus 146 
 
 Aegospotami 255 
 
 Aelian 187 
 
 Aeschylus 176, 251 
 
 Agamemnon of Aeschylus 176 
 
 Ages of Man, The, of Har- 
 cum 196 
 
 Agnes 93, 184, 208 
 
 Aimwell 81, 188 
 
 Alcaeus 257 
 
 Alceste 85, 86, 90, 92, 103, 
 104,111, 135, 197,217,218, 
 235 
 
 Alcestis of Euripides 235, 250 
 Alcifiiades 264 
 Alexander Aetolus 177 
 Alexandria 224 
 Alfieri and Salomon the Floren- 
 tine Jew of Landor 213 
 Alsace 152, 288 
 Alvanley 278, 279 
 Ameipsias 128, 227, 259, 260 
 Amelia of Fielding 271 
 American Cousin, Our, of 
 
 Taylor 292 
 Ami Fritz, L', of Erckmann- 
 
 Chatrian 152, 288 
 Amphitrite 38 
 Amphitruo of Plautus 203 
 Amyot 191 
 
 Anabasis of Xenophon 256 
 Anaxagoras 177 
 Anders 14, 289 
 'ApSpia of Menander 223 
 Aiidria of Terence 108, 110, 
 
 220, 222, 230, 231, 236 
 Annals of the Parish of Gait 
 
 270 
 Anti-Jacobin 128, 262 
 Antony and Cleopatra of Bur- 
 
 nand 267 
 Antony and Cleopatra of 
 
 Shakespeare 191 
 
 311
 
 312 
 
 INDEX 
 
 'Atthj-tos of Menander 232 
 
 Apollo 9 
 
 Apollodorus Carystius 108, 
 223 
 
 Apollodorus (of Athens, fl. 
 144 B. C.) 225 
 
 Arabian Nights 4. 14, 15, 31, 
 116, 247 
 
 Arabs 117 
 
 Araminta of Snaith 216 
 
 Arcadia 233 
 
 Ariel 39 
 
 Ariosto 238, 239 
 
 Aristophanes 16, 17, 19, 29, 
 32, 78, 109, 121, 123, 124, 
 125, 126, 127, 128. 129, 
 145, 146, 147, 174, 177, 
 181, 183, 184, 195, 203, 
 220, 227, 228, 235, 238, 
 250, 251, 252, 253, 254, 
 255, 256, 259, 260, 262, 
 264, 266, 283 
 
 Aristophanes and the Political 
 Parties at Athens of Maurice 
 Croiset 184, 251, 258 
 
 Aristophanes of Byzantium 
 212 
 
 Aristotle 19, 179, 181, 200, 
 
 213, 279 
 
 Aristotle On the Art of Poetry 
 of Cooper 179, 181, 213, 
 
 214, 279 
 Arnold, Edwin 6 
 Arnold, Matthew 20 
 Arnolphe 111, 208 
 
 Ars Poelica of Horace 196 
 Arthur, King 75, 172 
 Artificial Comedy of the Last 
 
 Century, On the, of Lamb 
 
 190 
 As You Like It of Shakespeare 
 
 196, 200, 201, 202 
 Athenaeus 108, 220, 223, 224, 
 
 225 
 Athene 21, 78, 180, 187 
 Athens 88, 108, 125, 126, 127, 
 
 174, 251, 254, 255, 256 
 Atta Troll 115,242, 243 
 
 Atta Troll of Heine 242 
 Attic Theatre, The, of Haigh 
 
 183, 254 
 Augier 16, 21, 289, 290 
 Aulularia of Plautus 211 
 Aulus Gellius 177, 224 
 Austen 132, 269 
 Austria 246, 286 
 Autobiographies of Edward 
 
 Gibbon, ed. Murray 275 
 Avare. V, of Moliere 211, 219 
 Aventuriere, L', of Augier 153, 
 
 166, 289, 290 
 
 Bab Ballads of Gilbert 292 
 Babylonians of Aristophanes 
 
 251, 253 
 Bacchus (see also Dionysus) 
 
 38, 146, 253 
 Bagdad 31, 118, 248 
 Balderstone, Caleb 139, 277 
 Balzac 211 
 Barbarossa 115, 245 
 Barbarossa of Ruckert 247 
 Bar bier de Seville, Le, of 
 
 Beaumarchais 236 
 Barbiere de Seviglia, 11, of 
 
 Rossini 237 
 Baron d'Albikrac, Le, of 
 
 Thomas Corneille 219 
 Barrow 283 
 Basques 243 
 Baudel 291 
 Baxter 227 
 Beata 245 
 
 Beatrice 88, 193, 202 
 Beauchamp's Career of Mere- 
 dith 22 
 Beaumarchais 236 
 Beaumont 193, 200 
 Beaux' Stratagem, The, of 
 
 Farquhar 188 
 Belise 112, 211, 237 
 Beljame 182 
 Beloe 177, 224, 225 
 Benecke 27 n. 
 Benedick 88, 177, 202 
 Benott 220
 
 INDEX 
 
 313 
 
 Bensly 178 
 
 Berchtesgaden 246 
 
 Berlin 152 
 
 Bernard, St. 13 
 
 Bernard, St., Life of, of J. 
 
 Cotter Morison 8 
 Bibbiena 239 
 Bible U, 22, 285 
 Biedermann, von 274 
 Billing 214 
 Billingsgate 214 
 Birds of Aristophanes 109. 227 
 Black 6 
 Black-Eyed Susan of Bur- 
 
 nand 293 
 Blumen-, Frucht-, und Dor- 
 
 nenstiicke of Jean Paul 
 
 Richter 244 
 Bobadill 87, 201 
 Boccaccio 14, 16, 31, 113, 
 
 238 
 Boileau 178, 195 
 Boislisle 199 
 Bond 200, 238, 2.39 
 Booby, Lady 271 
 Bossuet 144, 281 
 Boswell 188, 189, 264, 265 
 Bountiful, Lady 188 
 Bourru Bienfaisant, Le, of 
 
 Goldoni 240 
 Boy and the Mantle, The 172 
 Brandreth 26 
 Bride of Lammermoor, The, of 
 
 Scott 278 
 British Museum 27 n. 
 Brothers. The, of Terence {see 
 
 also Adelphi) 230 
 Browning, W. E. 258 
 Brummell 140, 278, 279 
 Brummell, Beau, JAfe of, of 
 
 Jesse 278 
 Brummell, Beau, of Florence 
 
 Ellicott 278 
 Brunetiere 199, 289 
 Brunschwicg 186 
 Bryce 246, 247 
 Burlador de Sevilla of Tirso 
 
 de Molina 242 
 
 Burnand 33, 167, 188, 267, 
 
 293 
 Butler, Samuel, author of 
 
 Erewhon 6 
 Butler, Samuel, author of 
 
 Hudihras 261 
 Byron 16, 32, 135, 242, 264, 
 
 273, 274 
 Byzantium 111, 233 
 
 Caen 279 
 Caesar 225, 226 
 Caleb Balderstone 277 
 Cambridge History of Eng- 
 lish Literature 8 n., 178, 
 
 182, 200, 201, 283 
 Canning 262, 263 
 Cano, Sanin 276 
 Capetown 3 
 
 Caracteres of La Bruyere 286 
 Carlyle 16, 22, 23, 136, 237, 
 
 244, 274, 276, 277 
 Carlyle, Works of 274 
 Carrel 196 
 Caryll 178 
 
 Cassaria, La, of Ariosto 238 
 Castaway, The, of Cowper 281 
 Caste of Robertson 292 
 Castelain 202 
 Catalogue of the lAbrary of 
 
 the London Institution 172 
 Cato 175, 176 
 Causeries du Lundi of Sainte- 
 
 Beuve 194, 197 
 Celimene 90, 92, 102, 103, 
 
 104, 105, 107, 112, 135,213, 
 
 216, 217, 218 
 'Centenarian, The' 123, 250 
 Ceres, Homeric Hymn to 176 
 Cervantes 121, 147, 276 
 Cervantes, Life of, by James 
 
 Fitzmaurice-Kelly 6, 276 
 Chaerea 190 
 Chambers 193 
 
 Chances, The, of Fletcher 200 
 Chapman and Hall 5, 6, 7, 8 
 Characters of Theophrastus 
 
 232
 
 314 
 
 INDEX 
 
 Charles I of England 272 
 Charles II of England 28, 29, 
 
 78, 181 
 Charles VIII of France 287 
 Charnock 4, 5 
 Chastillon, see Odet 
 Chatfield-Taylor 240 
 Chatham 269 
 Chatham, Lady 269 
 Chatrian 16, 288 
 Chaucer 14, 16, 33, 144 
 Child 172 
 Choisy 199 
 Chremes 223 
 Chronica of Apollodorus of 
 
 Athens 225 
 Chrysale 96, 211 
 'Chrysidis' 162 
 Chrysis 107, 162, 220 
 Churchill 265 
 Cibber 189 
 Cilicia 246 
 Clarke 172 
 
 Classical Weekly 196, 230 
 Cleon 251, 253, 254, 257, 258, 
 
 264 
 Cleon 213 
 
 Cleopatra 83, 191, 293 
 Clinia 223 
 Clodd 4 n., 8, 20, 273, 275, 
 
 286 
 Clotilda 245 
 Clouds of Aristophanes 109, 
 
 227, 238, 253, 254, 260, 261 
 Clumsey, Sir Tunbelly 80 
 Cockeram 176 
 Cocu Imaginaire, Le, of 
 
 Moliere 267 
 Coleridge 12, 212 
 Cologne 4 
 Columbus 137 
 Comaslae of Ameipsias 227 
 Comedie Frangaise 288 
 Comedy of Errors, The, of 
 
 Shakespeare 202 
 Comicorum Alticorum Frag- 
 
 menta, ed. Kock 222, 231, 
 
 232, 235 
 
 Commorienteg of Plautus 229, 
 
 230 
 Compte 10, 182 
 Comus of Milton 33, 144, 280 
 Conde 89, 204, 205. 206 
 Congreve 16, 23, 30, 85, 92, 
 
 96,97,98,99, 100, 190, 191, 
 
 192, 210, 212, 213, 215, 233 
 Connos of Ameipsias 227 
 Constant Couple, The, of 
 
 Farquhar 191 
 Constantine 234 
 Conti 198, 199 
 Conway 8 
 Cooper 179, 181, 213, 234, 
 
 279 
 Corneille, Pierre 114, 240 
 Corneille, Pierre, Oeuvres of 
 
 241 
 Corneille, Thomas 219 
 Cornford 179 
 Cosnac 199 
 Country Wife, The, of Wych- 
 
 erley 79, 184, 191 
 Coiirtwell 189 
 Covent Garden 209 
 Cowper 144, 281 
 Cowper, Poetical Works of 281 
 Cradock 173 
 Cranmer 185 
 Crassus 175, 176 
 Cratinus 128, 259, 260 
 Critique de I'Ecole des Femmes, 
 
 La, of Moliere 143, 174, 280 
 Croiset, Alfred 184, 224, 229, 
 
 254, 260 
 Croiset, Maurice 184, 222, 224, 
 
 251, 254, 258, 260 
 Cyrus 127, 256 
 
 Dahlia Fleming 291 
 
 Dakyns 256 
 
 D'Alembert 103, 216 
 
 Damis 213 
 
 Dante 14 
 
 Aao9 of Legrand 236 
 
 Darius 255 
 
 Darwin, Erasmus 263 
 
 I
 
 INDEX 
 
 315 
 
 Datis 255 
 
 David Garrick of Robertson 
 292 
 
 Davus 111, 236 
 
 Decameron of Boccaccio 238 
 
 Decline and Fall of Gibbon 
 275 
 
 Deipnosophists of Athenaeus 
 224 
 
 ^eLcri-Sai fxtav of Menander 232 
 
 Demea 111 
 
 Demus 127, 256 
 
 Dennis 190 
 
 De Poetis, Suetonius 226, 233 
 
 Diana of the Crossways of 
 Meredith 237 
 
 Diary of Pepys 262 
 
 Dicaeopolis 252 
 
 Dictionary of National Biog- 
 raphy 8, 27 n. 
 
 Dictionnaire de la Langue 
 Frangaise of Littre 182, 236 
 
 Dionysus (see also Bacchus) 
 78, 179, 180, 181, 235 
 
 Diopeithes 225 
 
 Diphilus 229, 230 
 
 Dissertations and Discussions 
 of J. S. Mill 196 
 
 Divines of the Church of Eng- 
 land of Hutton 283 
 
 Dobson 209 
 
 Dogberry 88, 202 
 
 Donatus 233 
 
 Don Juan 115, 241 
 
 Don Juan of Byron 242 
 
 Don Juan of Moliere 242 
 
 Donnybrook 260 
 
 Donnybrook Fair 128, 260 
 
 Don Pedro 177 
 
 Don Quixote 1.36, 262, 275 
 
 Don Quixote of Cervantes 146, 
 276 
 
 Dorante 174 
 
 Dorians 179 
 
 Dorinda 188 
 
 Dorine 92, 133, 270 
 
 Double-Dealer, The. of Con- 
 greve 97, 191, 212 
 
 Dover 35 
 
 Dramatic n'orhs of Wycherley, 
 Congreve, Vanbrugh, and 
 Farquhar, ed. Hunt 190 
 
 Dryden 189, 192 
 
 Dublin 260 
 
 Diibner 227 
 
 Duchess of Devonshire 216 
 
 Duff 211, 231, 233 
 
 Dulness 80, 125, 187, 251 
 
 Dumas Fils 289 
 
 Dunciad of Pope 187 
 
 D'Urfey 181 
 
 Aiio-KoAos of Menander 232 
 
 Earle 233 
 
 Early Plays from the Italian 
 
 of Bond 200, 238, 239 
 'EavTOv tlivOiav of Menander 
 
 231 
 'EavTov Tt^ttopoii/uerog of 
 
 Menander 110, 223, 232 
 Ecclesiazusae of Aristophanes 
 
 184, 254 
 Eckermann 274 
 Ecole des Femmes, L\ of 
 
 Moliere 93, 111, 143, 184, 
 
 208, 280 
 Ecole des Maris, L\ of 
 
 Moliere 111 
 Education of An Orator of 
 
 Quintilian 203, 225 
 Egoist, The, of Meredith 6, 
 
 7, 12, 25, 34, 34 n., 209 
 Egoist, The, Prelude to, of 
 
 Meredith 7, 34, 34 n. 
 Egypt 224 
 
 EKvpa of Apollodorus 223 
 Elia, see Lamb 
 
 Elizabeth, or The Invisible Ar- 
 mada of Burnand 267 
 Ellis 262, 263 
 Blister 242 
 Elton, Mr. 1,32, 269 
 Emma 1.32, 269 
 Emma of Jane Austen 269 
 Encyclopaedia Britannica 193, 
 
 209
 
 316 
 
 mDEX 
 
 England 4, 16, 91, 130, 174 
 
 English, The 132 
 
 English and Scottish Ballads of 
 
 Child 172 
 English Comic Writers, Lec- 
 tures on the, of Hazlitt 192 
 English Dialect Dictionary of 
 
 Wright 285 
 English Dictionarie, The, of 
 
 Henry Cockeram 176 
 English Drama of the Restora- 
 tion of Nettleton 182, 185, 
 
 192 
 English Literature and the 
 
 Classics, ed. Gordon 232 
 Eothen of Kinglake 269 
 Epicurus 107, 163, 221 
 'E77i5t/ca(,'o/ji.ei'Os of Apollo- 
 
 dorus 223 
 Epigrams of Martial 293 
 Epitome of Phrynichus 219 
 'ETTiTpeTTOi'Tes of Menander 
 
 222 
 Erckmann 16, 288 
 Essai Historique et JAtteraire 
 
 sur la Comedie de Menandre 
 
 of Benoit 220 
 Essay on Laughter of Sully 266 
 Essay on Woman of Wilkes 
 
 263 
 Euclio 211 
 
 'Evi'ouxos of Menander 223 
 £««uc/!U« of Terence 107, 108, 
 
 110, 162, 190, 223, 235 
 Eupolis 128, 259, 260, 261 
 Euripides 88, 177, 203, 235, 
 
 251, 253, 277 
 Evan Harrington of Meredith 
 
 3, 6 
 Evans, Sir Hugh 88, 202 
 Every Man in his Humor of 
 
 Ben Jonson 201 
 Erery Man out of his Humor 
 
 of Ben Jonson 270 
 Ewald 210, 212, 213 
 
 Fables of Phaedrus 188 
 Fainall, Mrs. 102, 215 
 
 Faithful Shepherdess, The, of 
 
 Fletcher 200 
 Falstaff 87, 202, 235 
 Faraday 171 
 Farquhar 188, 190, 191 
 Fashion 186 
 Faust of Goethe 245 
 Favre 250 
 Femmcs Savanles, Les, of 
 
 Moliere 31, 89, 90, 112, 206, 
 
 211, 212, 287 
 Ferchlandt 210 
 Fermor, Miss 178 
 Fielding 16, 32, 94, 121, 132, 
 
 134, 135, 189, 209, 269, 271, 
 
 272, 273 
 Figaro 112, 236 
 Fitzgerald 265, 278 
 Fitzmaurice-Kelly 6, 241, 276 
 Fleming, Dahlia 291 
 Fletcher 86, 193, 200 
 Fluellen 88, 202 
 F. M. Julius Cnaesar of Bur- 
 
 nand 267 
 Foible 215 
 Fondlewife 84, 191 
 Foote 129, 265 
 Foresight 191 
 Foresight, Mrs. 212 
 Forster 7, 213 
 Fortnightly Review 4 n., 5 n., 
 
 6, 6 n., 10 n., 20 n., 273, 
 
 275. 286 
 Fourberies de Scapin, Les, of 
 
 Moliere 236 
 Fox, Elizabeth Vassal!, Lady 
 
 Holland 268 
 Frail, Mrs. 98, 212 
 France 12, 16, 88, 95, 152, 283 
 Frate Timoteo 114, 164, 239 
 Frederick I of the Holy 
 
 Roman Empire 245, 247 
 Frederick H of the Holy 
 
 Roman Empire 246 
 French, The 138 
 French Revolution, The, of 
 
 Carlyle 237 
 Frere 256, 262, 263, 284
 
 INDEX 
 
 317 
 
 Friend of Humaniiy, The, of 
 Canning and Frere 263 
 
 Fritz Kobus 288 
 
 Frogs of Aristophanes 146, 
 181, 227, 251, 253, 260, 266, 
 284 
 
 Fyvie 268 
 
 Gabriel de Roqwtte of Pignot 
 199 
 
 Gahrielle of Augier 290 
 
 Gainsborough 102, 216 
 
 Gait 132, 270 
 
 Cassendi 221 
 
 Gellius 177, 224, 225 
 
 Gendarme de Bevotte 242 
 
 Geneva 216 
 
 George III of England 263 
 
 George IV, Life of, of Fitz- 
 gerald 278 
 
 George IV of England 278 
 
 George Meredith as Publisher's 
 Reader of Matz 6 n., 8 n. 
 
 George Meredith of Photiades 
 26 n. 
 
 George Meredith's Literary Re- 
 lations with Germany of Lees 
 14 n. 
 
 Germans 117, 150, 151, 152 
 
 Germany 12, 150, 246, 288 
 
 Geschichte dcr Ih/zantinischen 
 Litteraiur of Kruraliacher 
 234 
 
 Getas 222 
 
 Tfu>py6<; of Monander 222 
 
 Giants and Dwarfs of Wood 
 267 
 
 Gibbon 15, 136, 275 
 
 GifFord 262 
 
 Gilbert 33, 167, 292 
 
 Gillet 210 
 
 Girardin 17, 117, 247, 250 
 
 Gissing 6 
 
 Cilendower 248 
 
 Gnatho 108 
 
 Goethe 11, 15, 16, 21, 23, 
 32, 115, 136, 152, 245, 274, 
 289 
 
 Goethe's Gesprdche 273 
 
 Goldoni 16, 114, 239, 240 
 
 Goldoni, a Biography, of Chat- 
 field-Taylor 240 
 
 Goldsmith 16, 94, 132. 208, 
 269 
 
 Goodwin 224, 228 
 
 Gordon 232 
 
 Grandet 211 
 
 Grattan 128, 263 
 
 Greece 16, 108, 110, 225 
 
 Greedy 86, 87, 200 
 
 Greek Genius and its Influence 
 of Cooper 234 
 
 Greeks 226, 227, 229, 255 
 
 Grenfell 222 
 
 Grimarest 206 
 
 Guenever 172 
 
 Guizot 220 
 
 Hades 38 
 
 Hadrian 229 
 
 Haigh 183, 254 
 
 Hall 233 
 
 Hamlet of Shakespeare 276 
 
 Happy Land, The, of Gilbert 
 293 
 
 Harcum 196 
 
 Hardman 286 
 
 Hardy 6 
 
 Harpagon 96, HI, 211, 235 
 
 Harrison 10 
 
 Harry Richmond of Meredith 
 6, 285 
 
 Havet 186 
 
 Hazlitt 17, 178, 192 
 
 Heauton Timorumenos of Ter- 
 ence 108, 111,223,232,236 
 
 Hecyra of Terence 108, 223 
 
 Heine 115, 128, 150, 242, 286 
 
 Heine, Life of, of Stigand 
 242 
 
 Heine, ^Verlce of 242 
 
 Henley 8, 271, 272, 285 
 
 Heracles, see Hercules 
 
 Heraditus 175, 176 
 
 Hercules 129, 235, 254, 266 
 
 Hermann 14, 289
 
 318 
 
 INDEX 
 
 Hermippus 261 
 
 Hermit, The, of Phryaichus 
 
 252 
 Heroes and Hero-Worship of 
 
 Carlyle 277 
 Heros CHpio!) of Menander 
 
 222 
 Herrick 293 
 Herrick, U-'orks of 293 
 Hesiod 287 
 
 Hesperides of Herrick 293 
 Hill 189 
 Hind 272 
 Hippocrates 182 
 Hisioire de la Litlemture 
 
 Frangaise of Lanson 290 
 Hisioire de la Litterature 
 
 Grecque of Alfred and 
 
 Maurice Croiset 184, 221, 
 
 229, 254, 260 
 Historie of Error 202 
 Historieltes of Tallemant des 
 
 Reaux 197 
 Historische Zeitschrift 246 
 History of Spanish Literature 
 
 of Fitzmaurice-Kelly 241 
 Holait 199 
 Holherg 16 
 Holland House of Liechtea- 
 
 stein 268 
 Holland, Lady 268 
 Holy Roman Empire of Bryce 
 
 246 
 Horace 30, 85, 195, 196, 259 
 Horner 184 
 Hosius 177 
 Hotspur 248 
 
 Hoyden 29, 80, 84, 186, 192 
 Hudibras of Samuel Butler 
 
 128, 261. 262 
 Humphrey Clinker of Smol- 
 lett 193 
 Hunt, A. S. 222 
 Hunt, Leigh 17, 190, 283 
 Hutton 283 
 Hymen 38 
 Hyperbolus 261 
 Hyperion 287 
 
 Iceland 241 
 
 Idylls of the King of Tenny- 
 son 204 
 
 Eiad 21, 180, 181. 277 
 
 Ill-tempered Man, The, of 
 Menander 110, 232 
 
 Imaginary Conversations of 
 Landor 213 
 
 Incredulous Man, The, of 
 Menander 110, 232 
 
 Influence of Moliere on Res- 
 toration Comedy of Miles 
 210 
 
 Ion of Euripides 277 
 
 Ireland 260, 274 
 
 Italians 117 
 
 Italy 7, 16, 216, 239, 240, 286 
 
 Jack the Giant-Killer 193 
 
 Jahn 14, 289 
 
 Jannet 175 
 
 Jaques 87, 202 
 
 Jean Paul (see also Richter) 
 
 23, 115, 245 
 Jean Pauls Werke 244 
 Jebb 232 
 Jesse 278 
 Jesuits 198, 199 
 Jilted Lover, The, of Menander 
 
 221 
 John, King of England 260 
 John Gilpin of Cowper 281 
 Johnson, Samuel 122, 188, 
 
 249, 264, 265 
 Johnson, Samuel, Life of, of 
 
 Boswell 188, 189, 264, 265 
 Jonathan Wild of Fielding 135, 
 
 166, 209, 271, 272 
 Jonson, Ben 16, 86, 87, 200, 
 
 201, 211, 233, 270 
 Jonson, Ben, of Castelain 202 
 Joseph Andrews 271 
 Joseph Andrews of Fielding 
 
 209, 271, 273 
 Joubert 194 
 
 Joubert, Pensees of 195 
 Journal des Debats 17, 250 
 Jove (see also Zeus) 138, 276
 
 INDEX 
 
 319 
 
 Joy to Great Caesar of D'Urfey 
 
 182 
 Juan, Don 115, 241 
 Judy, see Punch and Judy 
 Junius '^64 
 Juvenal 277 
 
 Kay 173 
 
 Kelly, see Fitzmauricc-Kelly 
 
 King Henry the Fifth of 
 
 Shakespeare 202 
 King Henry the Fourth, Part 
 
 1, of Shakespeare 202, 248 
 King Henry the Fourth, Part 
 
 2, of Shakespeare 202 
 Kinglake 269 
 
 Knights of Aristophanes 254, 
 
 255, 256, 260, 261, 266 
 Kobus, Fritz 288 
 Kock 222, 231, 232, 235 
 Koeppel 201 
 
 KoActf of Menander 223 
 Kronos 288 
 Krumbacher 234 
 Kuschnappel 244 
 Kyffhauser 247 
 
 La Bruyere 15, 151, 233, 286 
 
 Lady Bountiful 188 
 
 Lady of A ndros. The, of Ter- 
 ence, see Andria 
 
 La Fontaine 99, 151, 195. 286 
 
 J: Allegro of Milton 189, 202 
 
 Lamachus 128, 264 
 
 Lambl6, 17, 29, 190, 191,278 
 
 Lamb, Works of 190, 191, 278 
 
 Landor 99, 213 
 
 Lane 247 
 
 Lane-Poole 247 
 
 Lang 180 
 
 lianson 290 
 
 Lanuvinus, Luscius 231 
 
 Latimer 185 
 
 Lavinius 231 
 
 Leaf 180 
 
 Lectures on the English Comic 
 Writers of Hazlitt 192 
 
 Lees 14 n. 
 
 Lefebvre 222 
 
 Legende de Dmi Juan, La, of 
 
 Gendarme de Bevotte 242 
 Legrand 200, 203, 219, 220, 
 
 222, 224, 230, 236 
 Lenelte 115, 244, 245 
 Lessing 16. 115, 243 
 Letters of George Meredith 
 
 14n.. 15n.,26n., 27n., 188, 
 
 204. 206 
 I^exiqne de la Langue d-e 
 
 Moliere of Livet 219 
 Liechtenstein 268 
 Life and Times of Niccotb 
 
 Machiaivili of Villari 239 
 Lines written during a Period 
 
 of Insanity of (,'owpcr 281 
 Linked in Death of Diphilus 
 
 230 
 Lintot 178 
 Literary History of Rome of 
 
 Duff 211, 231, 233 
 Litterature et Histoire of 
 
 Littre 174, 182 
 Littre 10, 17, 21,78, 159, 174, 
 
 175, 182, 236 
 Livet 207, 219 
 Lizard, The 35 
 Lobeck 219 
 Lockhart 270 
 Loeb 184, 219 
 
 London 7, 100,129, 184, 214 
 London Institution 7, 26, 28, 
 
 171, 172 
 Longueville, Mme. de 198, 
 
 199 
 Lope de Vega 241, 242 
 Lord Petre 178 
 Louis-Philippe of France 249 
 Louis XIV of France 31, 88, 
 
 174, 204, 205, 282 
 Louis XV of France 240 
 Louis XVI of France 240 
 Love for Ljove of Congreve 98, 
 
 192, 212 
 Love in Several Masques of 
 
 Fielding 189
 
 320 
 
 INDEX 
 
 Loves of the Triangles, The, 
 of Canning, Frere, and 
 Ellis 263 
 Lowell 8 
 
 Lucas 190, 191, 278 
 Lurewell, Lady 83, 84, 191 
 Luscius Lanuvinus 231 
 Lutrin, Lc, of Boileau 178 
 Lysander 254, 255 
 Lysistrata of Aristophanes 
 255, 256 
 
 Macaulay, G. C. 200 
 Machiavelli 16, 31, 113, 233, 
 
 239, 24.0 
 MacMechan 276, 277 
 Macnamara 3 
 Mair 287 
 Malade Imaginaire, Le, of 
 
 Moliere 281 
 Malassis 206 
 Mall, The 81, 189 
 Mall, The, of J. D. (John 
 
 Dryden?) 189 
 Malvolio 88, 202 
 Mandragola, La, of Machia- 
 velli 113, 238, 239, 240 
 Manly 111, 236 
 Manuel de I'Hisloire de la 
 
 Litterature Frangaise of 
 
 Brunetiere 289 
 Marathon 127, 255 
 Marcus Antoniiis, Life of, of 
 
 Plutarch 191 
 Manage de Figaro, Le, of 
 
 Beaumarcbais 236, 237 
 Manage d'Olympe, Le, of 
 
 Augier 289, 290 
 Maricas the Drunkard of 
 
 Eupolis 261 
 Marie Antoinette 240 
 Marquis, I>e 290, 291 
 Marston 188 
 Martial 293 
 Martine 211 
 Marty-Laveaux 241 
 Mary (the Catholic), Queen 
 
 of England 185 
 
 Mascher% Le, of Machiavelli 
 238 
 
 Maskwell 97, 212 
 
 Massinger 86, 87, 201 
 
 Matthews, Miss 271 
 
 Matz 6 n., 8 n. 
 
 Maximes el Reflexions sur la 
 Comedie of Bossuet 282 
 
 Masse 8 
 
 Mazarin 198, 199 
 
 Medecin Malgre Lui, Le, of 
 Moliere 206, 207 
 
 Mediaeval Stage, The, of 
 Chambers 193 
 
 Megara 179 
 
 Memoires of Saint-Simon 198 
 
 Memoires of the Academic 
 Royale de Belgique 210 
 
 'Memoirs of a Preceding Age' 
 268 
 
 Memoirs of Pasquier 249 
 
 Memoirs of the Lady Hester 
 Stanhope of Meryon 268 
 
 Memorabilia of Xenophon 256 
 
 Menaechmi of Plautus 203 
 
 Menander 16, 23, 30, 31, 86, 
 88, 106, 107, 108, 109, 110, 
 111,163, 195, 203,212,219, 
 220, 221, 222, 223, 224, 225, 
 226, 227, 228, 229, 232, 233, 
 234, 235 
 
 Menandre of Guizot 220 
 
 Menedemus 111, 223, 235 
 
 Menteur, Le. of Pierre Cor- 
 neille 114, 240, 241 
 
 Mephistopheles 245 
 
 Merchant of Venice, The, of 
 Shakespeare 176 
 
 Meredith, Anne 3 
 
 Meredith, Augustus Arm- 
 strong 3, 3 n., 4 
 
 Meredith, George, Some Recol- 
 lections, of Clodd 4 n., 5 n., 
 10 n., 20 n., 273, 275, 286 
 
 Meredith, Melchizedek 3 
 
 Meredith, W. M. 14 n. 
 
 Merry n'ives of Windsor, The, 
 of Shakespeare 202
 
 INDEX 
 
 321 
 
 Meryon 269 
 
 Micio 111 
 
 Mikado, The, of Gilbert and 
 
 Sullivan 292 
 Milan ■236 
 Miles 210 
 
 Miles Gloriosus of Plautus 235 
 Milford 281 
 
 Mill, J. S. 10, 30, 85, 196 
 Millaraant 84, 9-2, 97, 98, 101, 
 
 102, 192, 208, 216 
 Miltiades 255 
 Milton 33, 189, 202, 280 
 Minna von Bamhelm, of 
 
 I^ssing 243 
 Mirabell 92, 98, 99, 100, 101, 
 
 102, 192, 208 
 Misanthrope, Le, of Moliere 
 
 31, 89, 90, 92, 95, 103, 104, 
 
 106, 147, 161, 166, 178, 197, 
 206, 207, 208, 210, 213, 216, 
 217, 218, 235, 236 
 
 Misanthrope, The, see Alceste 
 Miscellaneous Essays of Car- 
 
 lyle 244 
 Miscellany of Lintot 178 
 Misogynes of Menander 106, 
 
 219 
 Mtcroviiici'os of Menander 
 
 107, 163, 221, 222 
 Modem Language Review 14 n. 
 Modern Love of Meredith 5 
 Modest Proposal, A, of Swift 
 
 274 
 
 Moliere 15, 16, 17, 18, 23,30, 
 31, 76, 85, 86, 89, 90, 91, 
 94, 96, 97, 98. 100, 103, 110, 
 111,112,113, 121,138, 143, 
 144,146, 147, 151, 16.S, 174, 
 178, 179, 184, 198, 199, 205, 
 206, 207, 210, 211, 212. 213, 
 216,217,219, 221,233, 2;«, 
 236, 240, 242, 250, 277, 280, 
 281, 282, 283, 287 
 
 Moliere en Angleterre of Gilldt 
 210 
 
 Moliere, II, of Goldoni 240 
 
 Moliere, Oeuvrea of 205 
 
 Moliere of Sainte-Beuvel 267, 
 
 277 
 Moliere's Misanthrop und 
 
 seine Englischen Sachahm- 
 
 ungen of Forchlandt 210 
 Monmerque 197 
 Montagu 172 
 Montaigne 15 
 Montausier 85, 196, 197 
 Montgomerj- 171 
 Montrichard 291 
 Moralia of Plutarch 224, 227 
 Morison 6. 8. 13, 26 
 Morley 4 n., 5, 6, 8, 9, 10, 22, 
 
 23, 24, 26, 27 
 Morning Post 7, 286 
 Mozart 237 
 Much Ado About Nothing of 
 
 Shakespeare 177, 202 
 Mumma 243 
 
 Murray, Gilbert 253, 284 
 Murray, John 275 
 Myers 180 
 
 Natalie 245 
 
 Nathan dtr Wcise of Lessing 
 
 243 
 Natural History of Pliny 188 
 Naturalist, The 270 
 Naucratis 224 
 Nerrlich 244 
 Nettleton 182, 185, 192 
 Neuwied 4, 286 
 New Collection of Miscellanies 
 
 of Dennis 190 
 New English Dictionary 215, 
 
 251, 269, 270 
 New Greek Comedy, The, of 
 
 Legrand 200, 203, 219, 222, 
 
 224, 230, 286 
 New Quarterly Magazine 27, 
 
 27 n., 159, 171 
 New Way to Pay Old Debts, A. 
 
 of Massinger 201 
 Nicias 264 
 
 Nicolls, Mary Ellen 5 
 Niebuhr 15 
 N iederdeutache Denkmaler 287
 
 322 
 
 INDEX 
 
 Nile, The 188 
 
 North 191 
 
 Notable Dames and Notable 
 
 Men of the Georgian Era of 
 
 Fyvie 268 
 Nouveaux Lundis. of Sainte- 
 
 Beuve 221 
 
 Odet 175 
 
 Ode to the Comic Spirit of 
 Meredith 7 
 
 Oedipus 236 
 
 Old Bachelor, The, of Coq- 
 greve 191, 194 
 
 Oldfather 230, 231 
 
 Olympus 9 
 
 Ordeal of Richard Feverel, The, 
 of Meredith 5, 6 
 
 Orgon 111, 112, 113, 163, 235, 
 237 
 
 Origin of Attic Comedy of 
 Cornford 179 
 
 Origin of Tragedy of Ridge- 
 way 181 
 
 Ormsby 276 
 
 Orson 151, 287 
 
 Osgood 249 
 
 Overbury 233 
 
 Oxford 275 
 
 Pallas, see Athene 
 
 Pamela of Richardson 273 
 
 Pantagruel 201 
 
 Panlagruel of Rabelais 175 
 
 Panurge 87, 160, 201 
 
 Pauza, Sancho 275 
 
 Paris 89, 207, 240, 288 
 
 Paris, Paulin 197 
 
 Pascal 21, 24, 80, 99, 186 
 
 Pasquier 122, 123, 164, 249, 
 250 
 
 Pasquier, Estienne Denis, of 
 Favre 250 
 
 Past and Present of Carlyle 
 274 
 
 Pater 257 
 
 Patience of Gilbert and Sulli- 
 van 292 
 
 Paul, Saint 220 
 
 Peace of Aristophanes 254, 
 
 255, 265 
 Peacock 5, 23 
 'Pedant, The' 150 
 Pedro, Don 177 
 Peg 84, 191, 192 
 Peggy, see Peg 
 Pensees of Joubert 195 
 Pensees of Pascal 15, 186 
 Pepin 287 
 Pepys 262 
 
 Peroy's Reliques 172 
 Peregrine Pickle of Smollett 
 
 146, 284, 285 
 Perigreen 189 
 IlepiKeipo/mei'T) of Menander 
 
 107, 222 
 UepwOia of Menander 223 
 Pernelle, Madame 113, 238 
 Persians 255 
 Petre, Lord 178 
 Phaedrus 188 
 Phaethon 293 
 Pharaoh 87, 201 
 Philaminte 96, 112, 135, 211, 
 
 237 
 Philemon 225, 226 
 Philiberte of Augier 290 
 Philip II of Spain 267 
 Philip IV of Spain 267 
 Phormio 108 
 
 Phornio of Terence 108, 223 
 Photiades 26, 26 n. 
 Phrynichus, the Atticist 219, 
 
 224 
 Phrynichus, the comic poet 
 
 128, 252, 259, 260, 261 
 Pickard-Cambridge 183 
 Pignot 199 
 
 Pinafore of Gilbert and Sulli- 
 van 292 
 Pinchwife 84, 185, 191 
 Pinchwife, Margery 184, 191 
 Pirates of Penzance, The, of 
 
 Gilbert and Sullivan 292 
 Pirlone 240 
 Pitt 262
 
 INDEX 
 
 323 
 
 Plain Dealer, The. of Wych- 
 erley 94, 208, 210, 236 . 
 Plasencia 241 
 Plato 17 
 Plautus 15, 16, 221, 229, 230, 
 
 231, 235, 239, 258 
 Plinv 188 
 Plutarch 108, 109, 191, 223, 
 
 224, 225, 227, 228. 229 
 Plutus of Aristophanes 254 
 Plyant 83, 84, 191 
 Poetics of Aristotle 179, 181, 
 
 213, 214, 279 
 Poetry of Michelangelo, The, 
 
 of Pater 257 
 Poetry of the Anti-Jacobin, ed. 
 
 Edmonds 262 
 Pollard 268, 293 
 Pollock 8 
 
 Poor Relations of Lamb 278 
 Pope 144, 178, 187, 281 
 Portraits Litteraires of Sainte- 
 
 Beuve 267, 277 
 Portsmouth 3, 4 
 Portuguese 115 
 Powell, York 10 
 Precieuses Ridicules, Les, of 
 
 Moliere 90, 206 
 Prelude to The Egoist of Mere- 
 dith 7, 34, 34 n. 
 Prospero 39 
 Prue 84, 191 
 
 Public et les Ilommes de Letlres 
 en Angleterre [etc.], Le, of 
 Beljame 182 
 Punch and Judy 84, 193 
 Punch (London) 188, 292, 293 
 Pygmalion and Galatea of 
 Gilbert 292 
 
 Quintilian 203, 225 
 Quixote, Don 136, 146, 262, 
 275 
 
 Rabe 212 
 
 Rabelais 16, 17, 19, 28, 76, 87, 
 99, 121, 128, 146, 160, 174, 
 
 175,176,177, 183,201,261, 
 267 
 Racine 15 
 
 Rambouillet, Mme. de 197 
 Rape of the Lock, The, of Pope 
 
 28, 77, 178 
 Ravenswood 278 
 Recollections of Morley 4 n., 
 
 5 n., 8, 9 n., 22 n., 24 n. 
 Regnier 286 
 
 Reinecke Fuchs of Goethe 245 
 Relapse, The, of Vanbrugh 186 
 Renan 15 
 
 Revue des Deux Mondes 199 
 Revue des Etudes Grecques 222 
 Rhine, The 4 
 Rhoda Fleming of Meredith 6, 
 
 285, 291 
 Richardson 135, 273 
 Richter (see also Jean Paul) 
 
 23, 115, 244, 245 
 Richter, Life of, of Carlyle 244 
 Ridgeway 181 
 Ridley 185 
 Riezler 246 
 
 Robertson 33, 167, 292 
 Roger? 183, 184, 227, 252, 253, 
 257, 260, 264, 265, 266, 283, 
 284 
 Roland 242 
 Rolfe 226, 227 
 Roman Comedy of Oldfather 
 
 230 
 Roman Empire 229 
 Romans 229, 231 
 Rome 16, 108, 224, 225, 239 
 Roquet te 85, 198, 199 
 Roquette, Gabriel de, of Pignot 
 
 199 
 Rousseau 103, 105, 216, 218 
 Rousseau, Oeuvres of 217 
 Ruckert 247 
 Ruskin 22 
 
 Sad Shepherd, The, of Ben 
 
 Jonson 200 
 Sainte-Beuvr 10, 17, 31. 107, 
 
 194. 197, 221, 267, 277
 
 324 
 
 INDEX 
 
 Sainte-Maure, see Montausier 
 
 Saint James' Park 189 
 
 Saint-Marc Girardin, see Gi- 
 rardin 
 
 Saintsbury 189 
 
 Saint-Simon 85, 198 
 
 Salamis 127, 255 
 
 Salzburg 246 
 
 Sa^ia of Menander 222 
 
 Samuel Foole of Fitzgerald 265 
 
 Sancho Panza 275 
 
 Sandra Belloni of Meredith 7 
 
 Sandys 224, 232 
 
 Sanin Cano 276 
 
 Sartor Resarlus of Carlyle 276 
 
 Satires of Horace 259 
 
 Satires of Juvenal 277 
 
 Scapin 112, 236 
 
 Scaramouche Ermite 204, 205, 
 206 
 
 School for Scandal, The, of 
 Sheridan 210 
 
 Scornful Lady, The, of Beau- 
 mont and Fletcher 193 
 
 Scott, Sir Walter 15, 189, 270, 
 278 
 
 Scott, Sir Walter, Life of, of 
 Lockhart 270 
 
 Scott, Temple 275 
 
 Scriblerus 187 
 
 Secchia Rapita, La, of Tas- 
 soni 178 
 
 Seccombe 8, 27 n. 
 
 Seelmann 287 
 
 Selections from Johnson of 
 Osgood 249 
 
 Selections from the English 
 
 Poets of Leigh Hunt 283 
 Self-Chastiser, The, of Menan- 
 der 110, 223, 232 
 Self-Pitier, The, of Menander 
 
 110.231 
 Self-Tormentor, The, of Ter- 
 ence 108, 111, 223, 232, 236 
 Sentimental Journey of Sterne 
 
 277 
 Servois 286 
 Seville 241 
 
 Seville Mocker, The, of Tirso 
 
 de Molina 242 
 SganareUe of L'Ecole des 
 
 Maris 111 
 SganareUe of Le Medecin 
 
 Malgre Lui 207 
 Shakespeare 16, 21, 30, 33, 77, 
 87, 88, 110, 128, 144, 147, 
 161, 174, 176, 177, 191, 193, 
 196, 200, 201, 202, 211, 235, 
 248, 276 
 Shaving of Shagpat, The, of 
 
 Meredith 5, 248 
 Shedd 212 
 Shelley 12, 128 
 Sheridan, R. B. 16, 23, 96, 
 
 101, 180, 210, 263 
 Sheridan, To Dr., of Swift 258 
 She Stoops to Conquer of Gold- 
 smith 208, 209 
 Short History of Classical 
 
 Scholarship of Sandys 224 
 Shy lock 211 
 Sicily 179 
 Siebenkas 115, 244 
 Sir Harry Wildair of Far- 
 
 quhar 191 
 Smith, Sydney 268. 283 
 Smithfield 79, 185 
 Smollett 16, 193, 284, 285 
 Smollett, Works of 285 
 Smoothfield {see also Smith- 
 field) 185 
 Snaith 216 
 
 Society of Roberlson 292 
 Socrates 127, 253 
 Some Remarkable Passages in 
 the Life of Mr. Wycherley of 
 Dennis 190 
 Sophonisha of Marston 188 
 Sosia 230 
 South 283 
 Southsea 3 
 
 Souvenirs de Voyages et 
 d'Etudes of Saint-Marc Gi- 
 rardin 248 
 Souvenirs et Reflexions of 
 Saint-Marc Girardin 248
 
 INDEX 
 
 325 
 
 Spain 16, 114,241 
 
 Spartans 455 
 
 Spectator, The 233 
 
 Spurzheim 171 
 
 Stanhope, Lady Hester 268 
 
 Starkie 253 
 
 Sterne 138, 277 
 
 Stevenson 8 
 
 Stigand 242 
 
 Still fi'aters Run Deep of 
 
 Taylor 292 
 Suetonius 226, 233 
 ^vyKpC<Teul^; 'Api<7To4>a.vovi 
 
 Ka\ Merai'Spou "ETrtTOMT (of 
 
 Plutarch?) 227 
 Suidas 224 
 Sullivan 292 
 Sully 266 
 Sui'an-o^t'Ty'o'Koi'Tes of Diphilus 
 
 223, 229 
 Superstitious Man, The, of 
 
 Menander 110, 232 
 Suppositi, I, of Ariosto 238 
 Suzel 288 
 Swift 16, 21, 128, 136, 258, 
 
 259, 274 
 Swift, Poems of 258 
 Swift, Prose Works of 275 
 Swinburne 8 
 Sycorax 39 
 
 Symposium of Plato 17 
 Syphax 188 
 Syracosius 251, 252 
 Syrianus in Uermogenem 212 
 Syrie en isei. La, of Saint- 
 Marc Girardin 248 
 Syrus 111, 236 
 
 Tallemant des Reaux 196, 197 
 Tallemant et Bussy of Sainte- 
 
 Beuve 197 
 TartufTe 85, 96, 111, 113, 135. 
 
 198, 199, 210. 237,238,240 
 Tartuffe, he, of Moliere 28, 31, 
 
 77, 89, 92, 112, 147, 166, 
 
 178, 179, 204, 205, 235, 237, 
 
 238, 270 
 Tassoni 178 
 
 Tatler, The 233 
 
 Taylor 33, 167, 188, 292 
 
 Temple Bar 278 
 
 Tennyson 204 
 
 Terence 16, 23, 30, 31. 83, 88, 
 107, 108. 109, 110, 111.160, 
 162, 190, 220, 221, 223, 226, 
 227, 230, 231, 233, 234, 235, 
 236, 239, 259 
 
 Thais 107, 162. 220 
 
 Thais (0ai5) of Menander 220 
 
 Thalia 179, 219 
 
 Theatre Frangais 152 
 
 Theogony of Hesiod 287 
 
 Theophrastu., 203. 2.32, 233 
 
 Theophrastus and his Imita- 
 tors of Gordon 232 
 
 Thesaurus of Menander 111 
 
 Thraso 111, 235 
 
 Thuringia 247 
 
 Times, The (London) 27, 28 
 
 Timon 175, 176 
 
 Timoteo, Frate 114, 164, 239 
 
 T intern Abbey of Words- 
 worth 12 n. 
 
 Tirso de Molina 241, 242 
 
 Tissaphernes 256 
 
 Titans 287, 288 
 
 Titian 216 
 
 Tom Jones of Fielding 209 
 
 'Tradition' of Greek Litera- 
 ture, The, of Murray 234 
 
 Tragedy of Sophonisba, The, 
 
 of Marston 188 
 Trip to Scarborough, A, of 
 Sheridan 186 
 
 Trissotin 151, 286 
 
 Tristram Shandy of Sterne 
 
 277 
 Twelfth-Night of Shakespeare 
 
 202 
 Two Masks, The, of Meredith 
 7 
 
 Tyre 246 
 
 Untersberg 115, 246 
 Uranos 287
 
 326 
 
 INDEX 
 
 Vadius 151, 287 
 
 Valentine, in Congreve's Love 
 
 for Love 98, 212 
 Valentine, in Valentine and 
 
 Orson 287 
 Valentine and Orson 287 
 Valentine and the Nameless 
 
 One 287 
 Valentin und Namelos 287 
 Vanbrugh 186, 1:10 
 Variae Historiae of Aelian 187 
 Vega Carpio, see Lope de 
 
 Vega 
 Venice 114, 216, 239, 240 
 Venus 228 
 Verdad Sospeckosa, La, of 
 
 Alarcon y Mendoza 241 
 Vicar of Wakefield, The, of 
 
 Goldsmith 208 
 Vigny 196 
 Villari 239 
 Virgil 195 
 Vision of Judgment, The, of 
 
 Byron 264 
 Vita Terenti of Suetonius 226, 
 
 233 
 Vittoria of Meredith 7, 22 
 Voigt 246 
 Volpone 211 
 Voltaire 16, 121, 204 
 Voltaire, Oeiares of 204 
 Vulliamy, Marie 6, 7 
 
 Waller 262 
 
 Warburton 187 
 
 Wasps of Aristophanes 
 
 256, 283 
 Watson 203, 226 
 
 253, 
 
 Way of the World, The, of 
 
 Congreve 30, 85, 92, 97, 98, 
 
 100, 192, 210, 213, 215 
 Wesley 171 
 Wheatley 172 
 Wheeler 193 
 Wild, Edward 272 
 Wild, James 272 
 Wild, Jonathan 32, 134, 135, 
 
 271, 272 
 Wild-Goose Chase, The, of 
 
 Fletcher 200 
 Wilkes 128, 263, 264, 265 
 Winifred 245 
 
 Wishfort, Lady 101, 192. 215 
 Wit and Humor of Leigh Hunt 
 
 283 
 Witwoud 99, 100 
 Woman-Hater, The, of Me- 
 
 nander 219 
 Wood 267 
 
 Wordsworth, 12, 12 n., 22 
 Wright 285 
 Wycherley 16, 29, 79, 94, 96, 
 
 184, 185, 190, 191, 210, 236 
 
 Xanthias 146 
 Xenophon 127, 256 
 Xenophon, Works of 256 
 Xerxes 255 
 
 Yonge 223 
 Yorick 137, 276 
 
 Zanthia 188 
 
 Zeus (see also Jove) 180, 277, 
 288 
 
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