et certe veritatem magis exprimunt tormenta quam risus, nisi quod facilius creditur, quod aut fictum libenter auditur aut non fictum, ut fingatur, inpellitur.1 In the eighteenth century, laughter, and especially laughing out loud, were often subjects for concern among scholars.2 Perhaps one of the best known—and most emotional—diatribes on the subject is that of Lord Chesterfield, who in a letter to his son dated 9 March 1748, gave the following solemn advice concerning the evils of laughter and the virtues of what he called true wit: Having mentioned laughing, I must particularly warn you against it: and I could heartily wish that you often be seen to smile, but never heard to laugh while you live. Frequent and loud laughter is the characteristic of folly and ill manners: it is the manner in which the mob express their silly joy at silly things; and they call it being merry. In my mind there is nothing so illiberal, and so ill-bred, as audible laughter. True wit, or sense, never yet made anybody laugh; t...