n-arm with a raw-boned wife, short-skirted and
long-toothed, with a bevy of short-skirted and long-toothed daughters
walking behind.
But if it requires a robust humorist to perceive the absurdity of his
own nation, what intensity of humour is required for a man to see the
absurdity of himself! To acquiesce in appearing ridiculous is the height
of philosophy. We are glad enough to amuse other people intentionally,
but how many men does one know who do not resent amusing other people
unintentionally? Yet if one were a true philanthropist, how delighted we
ought to be to afford to others a constant feast of innocent and joyful
contemplation.
But the fact which emerges from all these considerations is the fact
that we do not give humour its place of due dignity in the moral and
emotional scale. The truth is that we in England have fallen into a
certain groove of humour of late, the humour of paradox. The formula
which lies at the base of our present output of humour is the formula,
"Whatever is, is wrong." The method has been over-organised, and the
result is that humour can be manufactured in unlimited quantities. The
type of such humour is the saying of the humorist that he went about
the world with one dread constantly hanging over him--"the dread of not
being misunderstood." I would not for a moment deny the quality of such
humour, but it grows vapid and monotonous. It is painful to observe the
clever young man of the present day, instead of aiming at the expression
of things beautiful and emotional, which he is often well equipped to
produce, with all the charm of freshness and indiscretion, turn aside
to smart writing of a cynical type, because he cannot bear to be thought
immature. He wants to see the effect of his cleverness, and the envious
smile of the slower-witted is dearer to him than the secret kindling of
a sympathetic mind. Real humour is a broader and a deeper thing, and it
can hardly be attained until a man has had some acquaintance with the
larger world; and that very experience, in natures that are emotional
rather than patient, often tends to extinguish humour, because of the
knowledge that life is really rather too sad and serious a business
to afford amusement. The man who becomes a humorist is the man who
contrives to retain a certain childlike zest and freshness of mind side
by side with a large and tender tolerance. This state of mind is not one
to be diligently sought after. The humorist nascit
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