The collected works of William Hazlitt, Vol. 01 (of 12)Hazlitt, William
General
The collected works of William Hazlitt, Vol. 01 (of 12)
Hazlitt, William
English essays -- 19th century
characters,—have opposed them in every variety of contrast and
collision, of conscious self-satisfaction and mutual antipathy, with a
power which can only find full scope in the same rich and inexhaustible
materials. But in proportion as comic genius succeeds in taking off the
mask from ignorance and conceit, as it teaches us to
‘See ourselves as others see us,’—
in proportion as we are brought out on the stage together, and our
prejudices clash one against the other, our sharp angular points wear
off; we are no longer rigid in absurdity, passionate in folly, and we
prevent the ridicule directed at our habitual foibles, by laughing at
them ourselves.
If it be said, that there is the same fund of absurdity and prejudice in
the world as ever—that there are the same unaccountable perversities
lurking at the bottom of every breast,—I should answer, be it so: but at
least we keep our follies to ourselves as much as possible—we palliate,
shuffle, and equivocate with them—they sneak into by-corners, and do
not, like _Chaucer’s Canterbury Pilgrims_, march along the highroad, and
form a procession—they do not entrench themselves strongly behind custom
and precedent—they are not embodied in professions and ranks in
life—they are not organised into a system—they do not openly resort to a
standard, but are a sort of straggling nondescripts, that, like _Wart_,
‘present no mark to the foeman.’ As to the gross and palpable
absurdities of modern manners, they are too shallow and barefaced, and
those who affect, are too little _serious_ in them, to make them worth
the detection of the Comic Muse. They proceed from an idle, impudent
affectation of folly in general, in the dashing _bravura_ style, not
from an infatuation with any of its characteristic modes. In short, the
proper object of ridicule is _egotism_; and a man cannot be a very great
egotist who every day sees himself represented on the stage. We are
deficient in Comedy, because we are without characters in real life—as
we have no historical pictures, because we have no faces proper for
them.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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