umour, of which we have already spoken, which consists in being amused
at the disasters which befall others. The stage that is but slightly
removed from the lowest stage is the theory of practical jokes, the
humour of which is the pleasure of observing the actions of a person
in a disagreeable predicament which is not so serious as the victim
supposes. And thus we get to the region illustrated by the two stories
I have told, where the humour lies in the observation of one in a
predicament that appears to be of a tragic character, when the
tragic element is purely imaginary. And so we pass into the region of
intellectual humour, which may be roughly illustrated by such sayings as
that of George Sand that nothing is such a restorative as rhetoric,
or the claim advanced by a patriot that Shakespeare was undoubtedly a
Scotchman, on the ground that his talents would justify the supposition.
The humour of George Sand's epigram depends upon the perception that
rhetoric, which ought to be based upon a profound conviction, an
overwhelming passion, an intense enthusiasm, is often little more than
the abandonment of a personality to a mood of intoxicating ebullience;
while the humour of the Shakespeare story lies in a sense of the way in
which a national predilection will override all reasonable evidence.

It will be recognised how much of our humour depends upon our keen
perception of the weaknesses and imperfections of other nationalities. A
great statesman once said that if a Scotchman applied for a post and
was unsuccessful, his one object became to secure the post for another
Scotchman; while if an Irishman made an unsuccessful application, his
only aim was to prevent any other Irishman from obtaining the post. That
is a humorous way of contrasting the jealous patriotism of the Scot with
the passionate individualism of the Celt. The curious factor of this
species of humour is that we are entirely unable to recognise the
typicality of the caricatures which other nations draw of ourselves. A
German fails to recognise the English idea of the German as a man who,
after a meal of gigantic proportions and incredible potations, among the
smoke of endless cigars, will discuss the terminology of the absolute,
and burst into tears over a verse of poetry or a strain of music.
Similarly the Englishman cannot divine what is meant by the Englishman
of the French stage, with his long whiskers, his stiff pepper-and-salt
clothes, walking arm-i