But we know that there are many
kinds of laughter. Think of the different kinds of humorists we find in
Shakspeare's comedies. Mr. Trollope's merriment is evoked wholly by the
actual presence of an oddity; and Thackeray's, although it be, by the
way, abundantly sympathetic with superficial comedy, by its _existence_,
by its history, by some shadow it casts. Of course all humorists have an
immense common fund. When Cradell, in the present tale, talks about Mrs.
Lupex's fine _torso_, we are reminded both of Thackeray and Dickens. But
when the Squire, coming down to the Small House to discuss his niece's
marriage, just avoids a quarrel with his sister about the propriety of
early fires, we acknowledge, that, as it stands, the trait belongs to
Trollope alone. Dickens would have eschewed it, and Thackeray would have
expanded it. The same remark applies to their pathos. With Trollope we
weep, if it so happen we can, for a given shame or wrong. Our sympathy
in the work before us is for the jilted Lily Dale, our indignation for
her false lover. But our compassion for Amelia Osborne and Colonel
Newcome goes to the whole race of the oppressed.
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