WHY
THE WORLD
LAUGHS
CHARLES JOHNSTON
HARPER & BROTHERS PUBLISHERS
NEW YORK AND LONDON
MCMXII
COPYRIGHT. 1912. BY HARPER & BROTHERS
PRINTED IN THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA
PUBLISHED MARCH, 1912
CONTENTS
CHAP. PAGE
I. THE GRIMLY HUMOR OP JOHN CHINAMAN . . 1
II. A MONGOLIAN Music COMEDY 13
III. HUMOR IN THE JAPANESE STYLE 25
IV. THE HUMOR OF INDIA 36
V. THE GENTLE GALES OP PERSIAN JESTS ... 62
VI. THE JESTS THEY MADE IN BAGDAD 78
VII. THE WIT AND SATIRE OP THE HEBREWS ... 99
VIII. HUMOR IN THE DAYS OP THE PHARAOHS . . . 113
IX. THE HUMOR OP THE OLD TURKS 127
X. AN OTTOMAN LEAP-YEAR GIRL 140
XI. THE HUMOR OF THE GREEKS 153
XII. ARISTOPHANES AND THE LADIES 167
XIII. LUCIAN'S AVIATION STORY 177
XIV. A SCOFFER ON MOUNT OLYMPUS 189
XV. THE JESTS OF CICERO'S COUNTRYMEN .... 199
XVI. How Lucius MADE AN Ass OF HIMSELF . . . 212
XVII. BOCCACCIO AND His KIN 224
XVIII. THE MUSICAL LAUGHTER OP ITALY 233
XIX. DON QUIXOTE AND THE HUMOR OP SPAIN . . . 242
XX. AN ASININE STORY 252
XXI. THE MERRY JESTS OP RABELAIS 262
XXII. FROM MOLIERE TO DAUDET 272
XXIII. OLD HIGH GERMAN JOKES 282
242384
CONTENTS
CHAP. PAGE
XXIV. BARON MUNCHAUSEN AND AFTER 292
XXV. SCANDINAVIAN FUNNY STORIES 303
XXVI. THE RUSSIAN AND THE TARTAR 313
XXVII. THE CENTRAL FIGURE OF ENGLISH HUMOR . 323
XXVIII. THE PAWKY HUMOR OF SCOTLAND .... 335
XXIX. HUMOR OF THE ANCIENT HIBERNIANS . . . 347
XXX. AMERICAN HUMOR BEFORE COLUMBUS . . . 359
XXXI. THE ESSENCE OF AMERICAN HUMOR .... 370
ILLUSTRATIONS
"CONFOUND YE, WILL YE HAVE ANY FISH?" . . . Frontispiece
THE PHILOSOPHER CHWANG SAT UP IN HIS COFFIN . Facingp. 10
"A DIRE DOOM HANGS OVER THE KING" .... " 60
"WERT THOU NOT PATIENT IN BEARING AFFLICTIONS,
THOU HADST NEVER ENDURED THY NOSE THESE
FORTY YEARS" " 66
"WHAT PASSED BETWEEN THE CADI AND HIS DAUGHTER,
ALLAH KNOWETH" " 98
BENAIAH PURLOINED ONE OF THE KING'S KNIGHTS . " 102
BROUGHT UP UNDER WARD AND WATCH, SO THAT HIS
THREE DOOMS MIGHT NOT COME NIGH HIM . . " 118
A POISONOUS VIPER STUNG A CAPPADOCIAN. THE
VIPER DIED! 162
"WOULD YOU HAVE A TYRANT COME HITHER
STRIPPED?" " 196
"l SHOULD HAVE BEEN LOST, HAD NOT NERO, A DE-
SCENDANT OF C^JSAR, PUT UP THE CASH" . . . 206
LUCIUS ADDRESSED THE ASSEMBLY ON HIS OWN
BEHALF " 214
HE CAN EXPRESS ALL POSSIBLE GRIEFS AND SORROWS " 240
WHY THE WORLD LAUGHS
WHY THE WORLD
LAUGHS
THE GRIMLY HUMOR OF JOHN CHINAMAN
ONE of the funniest stories about Chinamen
is not really Chinese. It was told by a
British Consul at one of the Treaty Ports. He
arrested nine delinquent Chinese, intending to
turn them over to the tender mercies of the
native magistrate next morning. Meanwhile he
gave them into the custody of a native police-
man, telling him to lock them up, though there
was no gaol at the consulate. But the police-
man was equal to the emergency. He solemnly
saluted, saying "I obey!" and marched his men
off. Soon he returned and announced that they
were safely caged.
The Consul was curious to see how and where.
He followed his policeman to the yard. There
he saw the nine prisoners dancing round the
l
' WITT : fftE' WORLD LAUGHS
consulate flagstaff, lugubriously chanting the
Chinese equivalent of " Ring- around -a- rosy!"
Whenever the dance showed signs of flagging,
the policeman stirred them up with a long pole.
They seemed at first sight to be holding one an-
other's hands; but looking closer, the Consul saw
that they were handcuffed together.
"Well!" said the Consul, "if they are chained
in a ring around the flagstaff, they can certainly
not get away ! But why do you make them dance?"
"Ah!" answered the Chinese policeman, with
infinite cunning, "so that they cannot climb up
the pole and get away!"
The Consul broke out into a loud British laugh,
and tried to explain to the Chinaman that the nine
prisoners could certainly not all climb up the pole
at once; but the Chinaman had his idea, and held
to it. So the dance went on.
A more genuinely Chinese jest, and one grim
as anything in all literature, is the saying of the
Chinese executioner to the condemned victim,
"Stick your head out, or tuck it in! off it goes, just
the same!"
In somewhat the same strain -of "gallows
humor" is the tale of the Chinese magistrate.
One of his subordinates had a shrewish wife, who
used to make his life miserable, and, on occasion,
to inflict on him bodily chastisement. On a
certain occasion, when he had come home singing
and rather the worse for wear, in the cool of the
dawn, the worthy lady expressed her resentment
by scratching his face with vigor and precision.
2
THE GRIMLY HUMOR OF JOHN CHINAMAN
He made his appearance at the magistrate's
house, and was asked for explanations. "Your
Honor," he said, "it is oh, it is really nothing
at all! I was I was in my garden, working, and
my vine trellis fell down and scratched me! That
is all, your Honor!' 7
The magistrate looked at him keenly, and then
gradually broke into a voiceless Chinese laugh.
He had been there himself, had marital troubles
of his own, and recognized the signs. Then he
began to get angry, remembering his own sor-
rows.
"Why deceive me?" he cried. "Wretched man,
I know the true origin of your sufferings! It is
your wife, sinful woman that she is, that inflicted
on you these scars! Oh, shameless and in-
corrigible race of women! How many are the
sins that must be laid at your doors! Crafty
deceivers of men, you lacerate our hearts with a
thousand thorns! Like vampires, you come close
to us, only to suck our blood! Like serpents "
At this point the magistrate looked up. Just
behind the door he saw the threatening figure of
his own wife grasping a cudgel and, tucking up
her sleeve, preparing for an onslaught.
"Go, my good man! Go!" he said, suddenly,
turning to his subordinate. "Never mind your
wife, but go! My vine trellis is about to fall
too!"
Somewhat in the same vein is the Chinese say-
ing, "A man thinks he knows, but a woman knows
better." And the Chinese have altered a uni-
3
WHY THE WORLD LAUGHS
versal proverb into the saying, "Man proposes,
woman disposes!"
There is a grim touch, genuinely Chinese, in the
proverb, "A red-nosed man may be a teetotaler,
but no one will believe it." And even better is
the saying, (" It is not the wine that makes a man
drunk; it is the man himself/? Equally good is
this, "Don't pull up your shoe in your neighbor's
melon-patch; don't fix your hat under your
neighbor's plum-tree." There is fine practical
wisdom in that, and in truth this kind of practical
good sense is a religion with the Chinese. Con-
fucius himself is credited with the saying, "If
you suspect a man, don't employ him; if you em-
ploy him, don't suspect him!" There are a good
many sayings about money, in the same worldly-
wise vein. For example, "With money you can
move the gods; without money you cannot move
a man"; or this,\"If a man has money, he will
find plenty of people with scales to weigh it."\
Even more cynical is the saw, \" No image-maker
worships the gods. He knows what they are
made of " | or this, "We love our own compositions,
but other men's wives." There is the same rather
dry and bitter wit in the proverb, "He who rides
a tiger cannot dismount," none the less true in
general, though we have just disproved it in the
particular. This suggests another Chinese saying,
"The faults that a man condemns when out of
office, he commits when in."
But there is a gentler and kindlier touch in
some Chinese sayings, as for instance, "If you
4
THE GRIMLY HUMOR OF JOHN CHINAMAN
cannot draw a tiger, draw a dog!" though even
here one suspects that the application is often
sardonic. More sincerely moral is the saying,
" Cleanse your heart as you would cleanse a plate " ;
and Mencius put deep wisdom into his sentence,
"Life feeds upon adversity and sorrow. Death
comes amid pleasure and repose."
The philosopher Chwang was a disciple of Lao-
Tse and the mystic Way. It is related that he
was unfortunate in his matrimonial ventures. His
first wife died young. His second wife ran away
with one of his students, leaving a satirical verse
to inform the philosopher that she also was in
quest of a way, and thought she had found it.
His third wife he married several years later, a
veritable match of the scented iris of spring with
the chrysanthemum of autumn. Yet she pro-
tested that she was devoted to her philosopher.
One day the worshipful Chwang was out walk-
ing up on the hillside, communing with nature in
solitude, when he happened to stroll into the
cemetery. There, beside a new-made grave, he
beheld a young and lovely lady clad in sad
vestments, diligently fanning the little mound of
fresh-heaped earth.
With courteous sympathy the philosopher asked
her why she did this.
"Because of my foolish husband!" she answered.
"He is here. And just before he died he made me
promise not to marry again until the earth on
his grave was quite dry. I have been watching
it for days, and, oh, it is so slow!" And she
5
WHY THE WORLD LAUGHS
looked up archly, with sweet, pathetic eyes, at our
good Chwang.
"But your wrists are not strong enough for such
toil!" he said, his eyes drawn and held by hers;
"let me relieve your labor for a time."
"By all means!" cried the lady, brightening.
"Here is the fan, and I shall owe you a lasting debt
of gratitude, if you fan it dry as quick as possible."
Straightway good Chwang set to work, and,
being the possessor of certain magic powers, as all
philosophers should be, he quickly drew forth every
drop of moisture from the grave and then, with a
smile, returned the fan to the fan 1 lady.
Smiling joyfully, she cried, "How can I ever
thank you enough for your kind help! As a little
token of my gratitude, let me present you with this
second fan, which I had in reserve, and also pray
accept one of my silver hair-pins."
Daintily she drew forth the cut silver hair-pin
from her shining tresses, and tendered it to the
embarrassed philosopher. Mindful of his gentle
spouse, the Lady Tien, he thought better not to
accept it, but was willing to take the fan.
When he came home, sate him in his hall, and
pondered over the happening on the hillside, he
sighed deeply, thinking on the lightness of women.
"Why does my august lord sigh?" asked the
Lady Tien "and what is that fan in your hand?"
Chwang told her what had befallen in the
cemetery, making, however, no mention of the
hair-pin, and saying, at the end, that, alas, all
womankind were so!
6
THE GRIMLY HUMOR OF JOHN CHINAMAN
The Lady Tien was indignant. Why condemn
all for the vice of one? she said; were there not
multitudes of faithful ladies in the Middle King-
dom, even from of old unto the present day?
Shame and grief came on her, she said, for her
lord's censure; and, for her part, she would rather
die a thousand deaths than follow in the footsteps
of that too hasty widow!
The venerable Chwang raised his eyebrows
with a deprecating smile, waved his hand gently,
as who should say So be it, and let the matter
drop. But the very next day his countenance was
altered, and he began to peak and pine. To be
brief, in spite of the Lady Tien's ministrations and
laments, the good philosopher's body was soon in
a fine coffin of lacquered wood, while his soul had
started on the wild journey to the Yellow Springs.
Many days the Lady Tien wept and grieved,
pondering on the high excellences of her departed
philosopher; and her neighbors came and lamented
with her. Among the comers was a youth, fair
of face and demure of mien, discreet of speech,
and elegantly appareled, with a man-servant,
who announced that his master was a prince of the
kingdom of Tsu, come to enroll himself as a pupil
of the excellent and venerable Chwang.
These words made the tears of the Lady Tien
to gush forth afresh as she told the youth that
never, never could he hear wisdom from those
sainted lips, for that Chwang himself was even
now listening to the decrees of the great Assessor.
The youth, profoundly distressed, exchanged
WHY THE WORLD LAUGHS
his silk attire for mourning vestments, begging
only that the Lady Tien would permit him to re-
main and mourn for a hundred days, thus to show
his reverent sorrow for the departed Chwang.
So he began diligently to water the earth with his
tears.
The tears of the Lady Tien mingled with the tears
of the Prince of Tsu, and their sighs merged to-
gether amid the first airs of dawn and the zephyrs
of evening. Ere ten of the hundred days were
spent, sweet sympathy had been born in their
eyes and had stolen into their hearts. Yet the
young prince protested that never, never could a
pupil wed the relict of his revered preceptor; there
he would die unwed.
"But," said the Lady Tien, "you were not really
the pupil of the aged Chwang! You only hoped
to be, and that, you know, is altogether dif-
ferent!"
When the Lady Tien said she had compunctions,
and yet, and yet. . . . Had not the hard-hearted
Chwang driven his first wife to an early grave?
and his cruelty had compelled the second wife to
flee for refuge to her parents so the Lady Tien
told the tale while she herself, poor saint, had
endured much from his jealousy and faithlessness;
and she knew that he had secret meetings in
cemeteries and on desert hillsides.
The Prince of Tsu assented and demurred by
turns. How could they wed, he said, while the
coffin of the late Chwang lay in state in the chief
room of the house?
8
THE GRIMLY HUMOR OF JOHN CHINAMAN
That, said the Lady Tien, could be arranged; for
she would have the coffin carried out to the wood-
shed behind the house. But, said the Prince of
Tsu, he had not wherewithal to provide fit gifts,
nor yet marriage robes and trappings for the
festive day.
Nay, said the lady, this need be no obstacle.
She herself would see to the presents, and from
the store of the lamented Chwang she would
provide the wedding robes.
So day, by day, the hundred days sped by, and
the day agreed on for the wedding came. With
it came the ceremony, and the Lady Tien's cup
of joy seemed full. But fate was ripening against
her, for her faithlessness and her protestations
against the lady of the cemetery. For, lo and
behold, no sooner was the ceremony over than
the Prince of Tsu was taken with sudden spasms
and convulsions and grievous fits, so that he fell
to the ground, beating his breast with his hands.
Then, with a shudder, he closed his eyes.
: The Lady Tien was terrified. She asked the old
man-servant of the prince if this had ever befallen
hitherto, and what they did for it. He answered
that it had, and that there was but one remedy:
to pour into his lips soup made from the brains of
a man.
The Lady Tien was first horrified, then doubting,
then resolute. " There is the late Chwang!"
she said. "I myself will go, and bring his brains
to make soup for my prince !"
So she took an ax whose haft was lacquered red,
9
WHY THE WORLD LAUGHS
and went with firm step and beating heart to the
shed where the coffin lay. Without a moment's
delay, she raised the ax, aimed well at the coffin
lid, and struck valiantly, and struck again.
At the tenth blow the lid parted, cleft down its
length; and the philosopher Chwang, with a
resonant sneeze, sat up in his coffin.
The Lady Tien shrieked in terror, and dropped
the ax.
"My beloved spouse," quietly said the philos-
opher, "I am somewhat cramped; pray aid me
to rise!" Leaning on her arm, he made his way
to the inner chamber, and with each step her
heart sank deeper, for she knew that the young
Prince of Tsu was still lying there.
To her infinite relief, not a sign of the prince or
of his old man-servant was to be seen. They had
vanished into thin air, as it seemed.
Eagerly the Lady Tien began: "Oh, worshipful
spouse! Ever since your soul departed for the
Yellow Springs, you have been in my heart, day
and night. Even now, as I was watching by you,
hearing a slight stirring within your coffin, I
broke it open with a hatchet, thinking that
haply you might be alive! Thanks be to august
Heaven for my renewed felicity."
"Sincere thanks, madam," courteously replied
the wise Chwang. "But may I ask why this gay
apparel?"
The lady was stumped for an instant. Then
she made reply: "Venerable spouse! I had a
presentiment of my good-fortune, and so donned
10
THE PHILOSOPHER CHWANG SAT UP IN HIS COFFIN
THE GRIMLY HUMOR OP JOHN CHINAMAN
these bright robes, not willing to receive you back
to life in mourning vestments !"
"And why," again asked the sage, "was my
coffin set in the shed?"
The Lady Tien could find no answer. And
before them were the wine-cups, standing there
from the wedding feast. The sage made no com-
ment on them, save only to ask the Lady Tien
for a cup of warm wine. Then, suddenly growing
stern, he pointed over her shoulder.
"Look," he said, "at those two men behind
you!"
The Lady Tien turned with dread certitude
that she would see the Prince of Tsu and his
man; and so it was. But Chwang was vanished.
Then the two men vanished, and Chwang as
suddenly reappeared.
The Lady Tien at last saw the truth : the Prince
of Tsu was but an apparition of old Chwang him-
self, the whole matter was contrived to try her,
and the full measure of her infidelity was known.
So in despair she unwound her girdle from her
slender waist, tied one end over a beam, and
straightway hanged herself by the neck till she
was dead. Thus ends the pleasant and most ex-
cellently conceited comedy of the philosopher
Chwang and his third wife, amusingly illustrating
the fickleness of women.
So there we have the spirit of the Chinese jest,
with a sting in it as bitter as the merry-making of
the wise Solomon, king over Israel, a sharpness of
edge only equaled among modern people, per-
il
WHY THE WORLD LAUGHS
haps, by the spiced jests of Caledonia. I am
inclined to blame the great Confucius for this
grimness of Chinese wit. How could a people
joke freely in the straight-laced primness which
he fixed upon the Middle Kindgom? Just as the
formalism of the ancient Jew or the religious
bigotry of the Scotch Presbyterian killed gentle
humor, so did the prodigiously priggish mood of
Confucius's "superior man." It took the royster-
ing jollity of Harun al Rashid's Bagdad, or our
own Western border, once more to release from
her bonds fair Humor, tenth of the nine Muses.
Lest it be thought that the Chinese spirit is
altogether grim, I quote a little parable of another
Chwang, or, it may be, the very sage who wedded
the Lady Tien; but this charming fragment is
quite authentic.
"Once on a time," he said, "I dreamed I was
a butterfly flitting from flower to flower in the
sunshine. Butterfly-like, I followed every fancy,
forgetting altogether that I was a man. Sud-
denly I awoke, and there I lay, a man once more.
And now I know not whether I then dreamed I
was a butterfly, or whether I am now a butterfly,
dreaming myself a man."
II
A MONGOLIAN MUSIC COMEDY
A WITTY person has recorded the belief that
/A there have never been but two stories on
the stage: the first, two men and one woman,
which is essentially tragic ; the second, two women
and one man, which makes for inevitable comedy.
Without making the point that, in these feminist
days, we may have to reverse this conclusion, one
may admit that, while all comedy situations can
hardly be reduced to one, yet they are few in
number as few, perhaps, as the original jokes.
One finds these essentially comic situations in all
lands, throughout all times. I have just been
reading a Turkish play from the frosty Caucasus
with a swashbuckling hero very like Falstaff, a
group of Armenian knaves resembling closely
Bardolf and the Ancient Pistol in a word, the
whole atmosphere of the Prince Hal comedies. In
one of his rollicking, boisterous satires Aris-
tophanes has anticipated the whole New Woman
movement; and in a Mongolian comedy I find a
somewhat rowdy humor playing with the very
themes of Chaucer and Boccaccio.
The central figure of the play, half villain, half
13
WHY THE WORLD LAUGHS
hero, is a worthless old rascal, Ah Lan by name,
who, like his cousin Ah Sin, is a good deal of a
gambler; but, unlike Ah Sin, he does not know
how to stack the cards. He is always losing his
last cent, or his last cash, at Fan-Tan, and is sober
only through the necessity of his losses and the
leanness of his credit. Set against Ah Lan is his
worthy wife, a vigorous, shrill-tongued shrew, who
exerts her feminine influence on her spouse through
the medium of a rod no thicker than her thumb;
nay, she does not hesitate to square up at her
husband with her fists, and on occasion to give
him a knock-out blow. A notable woman, truly,
and able to take care of herself, yet in her own
crude, jolly way genuinely loving her worthless
spouse. A third figure in the comedy is a Bud-
dhist monk; and here one is vividly reminded of
Chaucer's knavish Pardoner and certain riotous
incidents in the Decameron. For the monk is
a shameless scamp who has taken vows only to
break them; a sworn vegetarian whose mind runs
on roast pork, or, to be more literal, tenderly
cooked puppy; a pledged celibate, always in
quest of adventures among the fair sex, and, in
particular, somewhat swiftly smitten by the
primitive charms of Ah Lan's wife. To add a
Chaucerian touch, the knavish monk is a hump-
back, with a hump in his nature, too, as our
philosopher says. Add two street rowdies, gam-
blers, and knockabout men, and you have the
precious personnel complete; complete, that is,
but for Ah Lan's pig, which gives the title to the
14
A MONGOLIAN MUSIC COMEDY
play. But the wearer of the title role in this case
has but a thinking part. This Mongolian porker
is no barnyard Romeo full of eloquence.
With such figures of essential comedy the play
opens. There is the banging of gongs, the
shrilling and screeching of weird instruments, the
thumping of empty barrels, and all the other
elements of Chinese stage music, which have
found modern echo in Berlin. Seated on the stage
is the good mistress Ah Lan, a rowdy, ragged
figure of a woman in faded, frowzy garb, who sings
of her woes in a high nasal treble. As is in-
evitable in a Mongolian play, she announces her
name and address. " My name is Mistress Wong,"
she says, " and I am wedded to the ne'er-do-weel
Ah Lan. I have sent him to the market with a
strip of cloth to sell, of my own weaving; why
does the knave not come back?" Then she drops
into song again, enlarging on the utter depravity
of mere man in general, and of her own spouse in
particular, and ending with the announcement
that, as he is so long in coming, she will lie in wait
for him with a club, which she twirls skilfully in
her hand, swishing it through the air in a fashion
which promises much for Ah Lan.
Meanwhile that unpresentable but withal cheer-
ful hero is making his way home, disconsolate and
quaking with apprehension. He has taken the
strip of cloth to the market, it is true ; he has even
got a fair price for it; but and here lies the tragedy
of the piece he thereupon found his disreputable
feet carrying him, as long wont had accustomed
15
WHY THE WORLD LAUGHS
them, to a Fan-Tan joint, where a greasy and
pigtailed croupier invited his guests to "make
their bets while the ball was in motion/' or, rather,
to preserve the unities of the game, to bet on the
number of counters that would remain in his
hand when, taking a big handful at haphazard
from the pile, he counted them out of his hand by
fours, thus leaving either one, two, three, or four
in the last handful. For so goes the game of Fan-
Tan. His guests, among them the hapless, un-
deserving Ah Lan, laid their copper cash, at ten to
the cent, on squares of painted cloth marked with
the numbers up to four; and when they guessed
right the croupier paid them, and when they
guessed wrong they paid him. Thus does the
heathen risk his money.
All this, of course, takes place behind the scenes
of our play. Ah Lan loses his last cent, in this
case the price for Mistress Wong's strip of cloth.
And he comes home lamenting the fickleness of the
Mongolian Goddess Fortune and reciting the story,
after duly naming himself to the audience, in their
primitive Eastern fashion. He realizes, too, that
his spouse is in all probability waiting for him
at home with a stick; though an Oriental, she is a
club-woman. He is not disappointed. As in
western lands, the lady is first at the rendezvous.
She greets him ironically, as he comes in, and asks,
very pointedly, whether he has sold the strip of
cloth. Ah Lan cannot tell a lie; at least in this
case he does not. Yes, he has sold the cloth.
Where is it? In the hands of the Fan-Tan man.
16
\
A MONGOLIAN MUSIC COMEDY
He had beastly luck; whenever he put his money
on the four, the croupier held three chips; if he
bet on three, the croupier had two, or one, or four,
but never by any chance just three. At this point
Mistress Wong begins to warm up. The club
comes forward, and at each incriminating answer
Ah Lan gets a rap over the knuckles, not meta-
phorically, but in very deed. He abuses the crou-
pier, calling him a tortoise-egg, where we should
say a lobster; and declares that the black tortoise
of Fortune withdrew its head, for Ah Lan thinks in
tortoises. At this, wronged womanhood flares up,
and, after a warning song in which she eloquently
declares her intention, she begins to beat him in
earnest.
Ah Lan finally stops her by pleading contrition,
and saying that he is going to reform, reform and
go into Big Business; in fact, open a pawnshop.
But his wife pointedly replies that he has not
enough money to pay for the pawn-tickets, which
seems a very unwifely retort. Ah Lan admits it,
and says that, if he cannot have a pawnshop,
he will at least start a big trading junk, and get
rich by merchandise. But his ruthless and club-
able spouse administers another crushing rebuff.
She tells him that he has not the price of a piece of
cord, much less the cost of a ship. He thinks it
over, admits that it is true, and says that he will
at least start a stall for the vending of bean
porridge, which, if it brings little, at least costs
little. But the hard-hearted lady says he has not
even capital for that. Then Ah Lan has an idea:
17
WHY THE WORLD LAUGHS
there is the pig, his wife's beloved pigling, which
will fetch, in open market, nearly two thousand
cash, or, as we might say, two dollars. And with
that you can buy the makings of much bean
porridge.
Now comes a touch of unverisimilitude. That
oft-deceived and ill-treated lady, Mistress Wong,
in spite of all her bitter experience, turns over to
him the pigling, darling of her heart, and sends
him off to sell it in the market. Any one with even
a small experience of story-reading could have
told her that the pig would go the way of the
strip of cloth; but she is confiding, and does not
think of accompanying her untrustworthy broker,
who hales the pig forth to the market. One thing
the lady has done as a kind of precaution. She
has made Ah Lan swear, by the divinity of Sun,
Moon, and Stars, that he will not misuse the cash
nor turn it into the byway of Fan-Tan; and the
scene of the swearing is funny enough. For, in
spite of his recent beating, Ah Lan is a comic
rogue, and his oath first takes this form: " Sun,
Moon, and Stars, ye lights of the firmaments, if Ah
Lan goes a-gambling, I pray you do to death the
daughter of my mother-in-law!" But his wife
very naturally objects that this won't do. He
must say it again. So he swears thus : " Sun, Moon,
Stars, if Ah Lan goes gambling, may he have no
toes on his heels, no corns on his skull, no boils on
his hair!" But the goodwife will not pass that,
so he at last swears that if Ah Lan goes a-gambling,
he may never have a coffin when he is dead. When
18
A MONGOLIAN MUSIC COMEDY
a Mongolian says that, he is in earnest. His
wife thinks so, too, and produces the pig, at which
he grunts, to encourage it, and off they go to
market with a song.
To him chanting the virtues of the pigling,
enter two Ruffians just as Shakespeare would say,
Enter: two Murderers. These are only gamblers
and bruisers, however, so much as we see of them
at least; but the experienced reader knows, the
instant they appear, that the pigling is done for.
But before inexorable fate overtakes it, there is
an amusing bit of comedy in the style of Lord Dun-
dreary. Mistress Wong has given him leave to
sell the pig for a thousand cash that is, a dollar
but has ordered him on no account to accept
eighty cents. So, when the Ruffians, with no
true intention of paying, ask him the price of his
pig, his fuddled mind wavers between two prices:
the thousand cash, which he may take, and the
eight hundred, which he must refuse. He tries
again and again to do the arithmetic of it; finally
he holds up one finger for the thousand, and
eight for the eight hundred; the latter is obviously
more, so he tells the robbers that he will take
eight hundred, because a thousand isn't enough.
In fact, it is just like selling Adirondack lands to
the State; you pay half as much again as the seller
is willing to take. But in the Mongolian play
the poor purchaser doesn't get even the lower
price, for one of the Ruffians promptly goes off
with the pig, while the other avers that he must
go seek a grass to string the cash on.
19
WHY THE WORLD LAUGHS
Ah Lan sees himself once more swindled, and
with sound judgment foresees another hiding from
his wife. This gives him an idea. He calls back
the Ruffian, and tells him he may have the pig
and welcome, if he will only show Ah Lan some
good knock-out blows for the benefit of his wife.
He means to be forehanded with the lady this
time. So he stands up, and the Ruffian obligingly
punches him and knocks him over, telling him in
each case the name of the blow; and then, having
apparently something of a conscience, though he
is a heathen, he lets Ah Lan practise the blows
on him and knock him over. So Ah Lan returns
to his home, pigless yet rejoicing. The un-
expected once more occurs. For when he returns,
confident in his new accomplishment, and boasts
that he has spent the money learning to box, his
wife tells him to come on, and lands him one on
the solar plexus; which is not bad for the Land of
Golden Lilies. She gives him, indeed, such a
thorough drubbing that he is presently helpless;
and, throwing a cloth over his head, she ties him
to the door-post and goes off stage, telling him
that she is going to have something succulent to
eat, and will then come back and punch him some
more; which is heartless, if you remember that he
has had nothing to eat since the day before.
Thereupon enters the Chaucerian figure, a
Buddhist monk, dirty, humpbacked, greedy-
eyed, for all the world like the Pardoner of The
Canterbury Tales. This Buddhist monk, for all
his vow to eat no meat, is thinking audibly of a
20
A MONGOLIAN MUSIC COMEDY
juicy puppy stew he had the week before, and
another he hopes for in the week to come; and as
he thinks aloud he licks his lips, and presently
espies Ah Lan, or, at least, as much as can be seen
of the old scamp, with his head in the bag. Not
sure whether he has to deal with man or demon,
he approaches cautiously and accosts Ah Lan.
The old rascal, from the depths of his bag, assures
him that he is a man, and the monk releases him;
whereupon Ah Lan mocks him aside, for a shave-
ling knave, which, in truth, he is. But Ah Lan
goes further than mere mockery; pretending
gratitude for his release, he declares that he can
cure the hump on the monk's back. But at first
the monk declares he has nothing to pay with.
Finally he bethinks him to give Ah Lan the sub-
scription-list, whereon he is gathering cash to buy
temple oil, and the old rascal assents, and takes the
list. Here is another touch of Chaucer's Pardoner,
for the list, like the monk, is a fraud. Yet Ah
Lan sees its possibilities and agrees to begin the
cure. And first, he says, the monk must put his
head in the bag and be tied up to the door-post.
The which is forthwith done.
In Horace's Art of Poetry there is an injunction
that nothing too terrible should be done on the
stage. Perhaps through an instinctive feeling
after this law, the dramatist of our Mongolian
comedy leaves to our imagination the scene which
immediately follows, wherein a number of good
Chinamen are terribly done by Ah Lan and his
fraudulent subscription-list. For, rendered con-
21
WHY THE WORLD LAUGHS
fident by the official temple seals on his long strip
of paper, he sallies forth, as we must infer, and
touches first one and then another for oil for
imaginary temple lamps. And we can imagine
the wheezing whine with which he solicited sub-
scriptions, in ways that were childlike and bland.
Doubtless he met with many refusals, receiving,
as the old proverb said, more kicks than half-
pence; doubtless also certain fat and greasy
citizens were importuned into parting with small
quantities of cash, with squeaks and grunts of
discontentment. But the temple plea availed;
these good Celestials had some thought of their
souls, and of what might happen to them among
the Yellow Hills of the Dead, if they refused to
subscribe for that temple oil. So they paid; and
Ah Lan grinned, promising himself many games
of Fan-Tan, in which, of course, he was going to
break the bank.
The result at least we know. Ah Lan came
back with a well-filled list and much cash, though
the details of the gaining of it were too dreadful
for representation. But while he was gone, much
had been happening in his home. The wicked
humpbacked monk, we must remember, had been
left, with a sack tied over his head and tied up to
the door-post, awaiting a magical cure. Ah Lan,
indeed, with a fine touch of humor, had promised
him that, if he waited patiently, a fairy with a
wand would presently appear and proceed to
straighten him out. Which, in truth, happened,
yet with a difference. For the fairy did veritably
22
A MONGOLIAN MUSIC COMEDY
appear, in the grimy and exasperated person of
Mistress Wong; and she held a wand that is
to say, a club with which she did proceed to
straighten out the monk, fondly believing him to
be the husband of her bosom. When her wrist
grew tired, she let him down and untied the sack
from his graceless head. Whereupon follows a
scene frankly anticlerical, or at leaslf antimonastic.
For, heedless of the rule of his order, that shaveling
eater of stewed puppy straightway fell to making
eyes at the old shrew, vowing that she was beauti-
ful, lovely as the fair maid in whose name Don
Quixote challenged an unbelieving world. As
lie is ogling and bowing, begging the lady for a
kiss, which, with vigorous and decorative speech,
she continues to refuse; as they dodge hither and
thither about the stage, giving an impersonation
of threatened virtue, Ah Lan returns with his long
subscription-list and his strings of cash. There-
upon, seeing his wrinkled old wife in the role of
distressed damozel, he flies to her rescue, soundly
thrashes the rascally Buddhist, and at last drives
him from the scene. The further adventures of
that greedy monk would furnish good matter for
some Chinese Flaubert or Zola, who might follow
him through unsavory streets into unmentionable
dens, where pipes of opium might soothe his
sorrows and inspire new schemes; but this again
is left to our imagination.
Left on the stage are the old rascal Ah Lan and
his hardly more presentable old wife. First Ah
Lan, with a fine assumption at once of courage
3 23
WHY THE WORLD LAUGHS
and virtue, berates her soundly for flirting with
the man of the tonsure, adding many Darwinian
epithets. But things finally quiet down; he ex-
plains how the monk came to be tied up, and she
explains how he came to be loosed again. Do-
mestic contentment being thus restored, Ah Lan
suddenly remembers his good luck. He is not
exactly wealthy, but he has coin, the strings of
cash collected for the temple, and he and his wife
with glee agree that at last they have the needed
capital to start the stall for the dispensation of
bean porridge, and the curtain descends on a
scene of genuine comedy, as the graceless old
couple sing a shrill duo of domestic felicity and
sweet content.
Ill
HUMOR IN THE JAPANESE STYLE
JAPAN contributes to the mirth of the world
one of the rarest of all things, a lady humorist.
I know not where we might find another, unless
it be the charming and nimble-witted writer of
The Rubaiyat of Bridge, and even then I suspect
the Japanese lady of incarnating anew in New
Jersey.
Be this as it may, the authoress of the Pillow
Sketches, who bears the imposing name of Sei
Shonagon, has a humorous charm that is all her
own, and there is something essentially modern in
the best sense in everything she wrote, though nine
long centuries have passed since she graced the
Mikado's court at Kyoto. One of the charming
things about her is the way she jests with the
august personage, half ruler and half demigod,
who stood at the summit of Japanese life. What,
for example, could be more winning than this
cat-and-dog story as she indites it?
"The august Cat-in-waiting on the Mikado/'
she tells us, "was a very delightful animal, and a
great favorite with his Majesty, who conferred
on her the fifth rank of nobility and the title of
25
WHY THE WORLD LAUGHS
Chief Superintendent of the Ladies-in-waiting
of the Palace. One day the Cat-in-waiting had
gone out on the bridge between two of the buildings
of the Palace, when the nurse in charge of her
called out, 'How indecorous! Come in at once!'
But the Cat-in-waiting paid no attention, but
basked sleepily in the sunshine. So, in order to
frighten her, the nurse cried: ' Where is Okina-
maro? Come, Okinamaro! Bite the Chief Super-
intendent!' The foolish dog, thinking she was in
earnest, flew at the cat, who in her fright and
consternation took refuge behind the screen of
the breakfast-room, where His Majesty then was.
The Mikado was greatly shocked. He took the
cat into his august bosom, and, summoning the
Lord Chamberlain, gave orders that Okinamaro
should have a good thrashing and be banished to
Dog Island at once. Alas, poor dog! How he
used to swagger at his ease. When he was led
along with a willow wreath upon his head, and
adorned with flowers of peach and cherry, did he
ever think it would come to this?"
The good lady of the Pillow Sketches is full of
shrewd observation and graceful expression. For
instance, she makes a list of detestable things.
" People who ride in a creaking carriage," she says,
" are very detestable, and must be deaf as well.
When you ride in such a carriage yourself, it is the
owner who is detestable." Again, " People who
interrupt your stories to show off their own
cleverness are detestable. All interrupters, young
or old, are very detestable. People who, when
26
HUMOR IN THE JAPANESE STYLE
you are telling a story, break in with, 'Oh, I
know/ and give quite a different version from your
own, are detestable." There is even more salt in
this: "Very detestable is the snoring of a man
whom you are trying to conceal and who has gone
to sleep in a place where he has no business. 77 And
the universal voice of humanity will bear out Sei
Shonagon, when she says that fleas are detestable,
especially when they get under your clothing and
jump about. And there is a certain fine satiric
note in the saying that people who mumble a
prayer when they sneeze are detestable, with the
added nota bene, " Loud sneezing is detestable,
except in the case of the gentlemen of the house. "
One sees that, like the more modern author of
"The Mikado/ 7 the lady of the Pillow Sketches
had got "a little list' 7 ; and on that list she puts the
preacher, thus: "A preacher ought to be a good-
looking man. It is then easier to keep your eyes
fixed on his face, without which it is impossible to
benefit by the sermon; otherwise your eyes wander
and you forget to listen. Ugly preachers have,
therefore, a grave responsibility. But no more of
this! 77 Then, as an afterthought: "If preachers
were of a more suitable age, I should have pleasure
in giving a more favorable judgment. As matters
actually stand, their sins are fearful to think of! 7 '
The peculiar delicacy of touch which is every-
where in Japanese art comes out in every line of
the Pillow Sketches. They are indeed of the land
of pink cherry blossoms. There is a racier note
in some of the proverbs of the Japanese, as, for
27
WHY THE WORLD LAUGHS
instance, -in the saying, " Spanking him with a
pie"; of some one who does a real kindness in a
truculent way. In somewhat the same spirit
is the saying, "To spank a cat with a sledge-
hammer/' where, instead of the cat, our own
proverb puts a walnut.
Wittily irreverent is the saw, " We call on the
gods when we are in a fix " ; and there is the same
touch of irony in the saying, " Pray in faith even to
a*sardine, and your prayer will be granted !" Some-
what in the spirit of a Japanese water-color is the
quaint little proverb, " While the tears are still wet,
a bee stings you" the equivalent for the saying
that troubles never come singly. Again, there is
the parallel of our "Too many cooks" in the
, declaration that "Too many sailors make the ship
go up the mountain." And even in these latter
days of plutocracy, I do not remember to have seen
anything so daring as the Japanese saw, "Money
makes you comfortable even in hell." This should
bring solace to "the criminal multi-millionaires
of our day."
"He that praises himself is a kind of fool," is
sound wisdom as well as wit; and there is a flash
of fancy in the saying that an obsequious flunkey
"dusts the whiskers" of the great man he is
flattering. Very sententious is this advice to
children, from a book more than a thousand years
old, "The mouth is the gate of misfortune; the
tongue is the root of misfortune; if the mouth were
like the nose, a man would have no trouble till
the end of his days." And one might offer to
28
HUMOR IN THE JAPANESE STYLE
Lord Rosebery, as a clinching argument for the
Peers, this saying from the same antique book,
"No man is worthy of honor by reason of his birth
alone. It is the garnering of knowledge that
bringeth wisdom and virtue."
In these days of devil-cars, one can find a very
pointed application for the saying, "To see the
chariot that is in front overturned is a warning
to the chariot that is behind." And our good
neighbor Governor Wilson might well adopt, as a
warning to motorists from New York and Pennsyl-
vania, this old Japanese saw, "When thou Grossest
a frontier, inquire what is forbidden within it."
About the time when Alfred the Great got a
scolding for letting the old lady's cakes get
burned, a tale was written in Japan, called the
"Narrative of the Bamboo - cutter." Therein
stands narrated that the grim, gentle old man and
his gray old wife were childless till one day, while
chopping a bamboo in the woods, he discovered
within the stem a fairy maiden bright as moon-
beams. And this moon-white maid abode with
them and grew, till the grim old man and his gray
old wife saw that she was of age to marry.
The fame of the moon-white maid had gone
abroad, and there came many suitors seeking to
wed her. But the maid was obdurate, weeping in
her chamber, till at last she bethought her to lay
on them impossible tasks. To one of her suitors,
who was a lord of high degree, she spoke thus:
"In far-distant Ind was born our Lord, Buddha
the Compassionate. In the days of his discipline,
29
WHY THE WORLD LAUGHS
he begged food by the wayside, seeking alms in a
poor bowl of stone. Let my lordly suitor bring
me the bowl as a marriage-gift!' 7
Full of wrath, that lord returned to his mansion,
thinking that the maid had flouted him. But his
anger passed and the image of the maid white as
moonbeams remained, so that his heart was sick
with longing, and he found no rest. Then he
questioned with himself whether indeed he should
go forth to seek the Buddha's bowl in far-off Ind,
so that he might win his heart's beloved. Yet
he bethought him not less of the perils of the deep,
and, presently pondering, he discerned a more
excellent way.
Sending word to the grim old man and his
moon-white daughter that he was set forth for Ind,
he betook him to the sea-coast, and then turned
back secretly by night, and came and hid himself
until many days were passed. Then in pilgrim
garb he set forth to a famed monastery on Mount
Ohara. Seeking throughout the temple, he found
at last, behind the altar in a shrine, a stone beg-
ging-bowl, very old and venerable, thickly coat-
ed with dust and black with age, such a bowl as
might in very truth have belonged to the Lord
Buddha.
Wrapping it in a rich brocade and binding with
it a spray of pink cherry blossoms artfully wrought
of paper, he set forth, richly dight, to the house of
the old bamboo-cutter and the moon-white maid.
And the maid was full of awe and wonder when
she saw the rareness of the gift. Unwrapping the
30
HUMOR IN THE JAPANESE STYLE
folds of silk she found within the bowl a strip of
paper, with these words written on it:
Oh the rock-riven mountains,
Oh the storm-driven fountains;
Oh the vigils I've kept,
Bowls of tears I have wept
In the quest of the bowl!
The moon-white maid, being indeed of gentle
heart, was herself moved to tears by this sad
recital; yet, being a wise maid withal, she be-
thought her: "If this be indeed the begging-bowl
of our Lord Buddha, then in the darkness of night
will it shimmer with pearly radiance!" So very
reverently she bade them set down the bowl and
darken the chamber. And they did so, but the
bowl shone not, were it even the faint glimmer of a
firefly! When .they lit the paper lanterns, the
courtier had fled, and the moon-white maiden was
glad within her heart, for she would fain flee from
wedlock. Therefore, smiling to herself, she wrapped
the bowl again in the brocade of silk, and sent it
to the lordly suitor, with such verses as these:
Not a glint of light
As a dew-drop bright
Lurked within the bowl!
Nay, how could it shine
Hid in that dark shrine?
The courtly man, when he received the bowl
and read the verses, strove at first in his wrath to
break the bowl. But it was hard, and brake not,
31
WHY THE WORLD LAUGHS
therefore he cast it from him. Yet, as he was a
learned man and a courtier though sick at heart,
he sent to the moon-white maid such verses as
these:
At thy radiance, maid!
Did the bowl's light fade,
Its sheen outshone!
It would glow with light
Were thy eyes less bright!
But the maid answered him not, and he hied
him homeward, full of sorrow and despite and
bitterly blaming the heartless maiden. Not more
fortunate was a prince who likewise came to woo
her, for of him she asked a golden branch of the
tree of life. He too fared him forth to the sea-
shore, taking certain warriors of choice with him.
Boarding a vessel bound for far lands, he sent these
homeward, and they departed weeping. But when
dark night had come, he bade the shipmaster turn
the prow homeward, and so came secretly to
Kyoto. There he had contrived a certain subtle
and crafty deed, for he was a politic prince. He
built, in the loneliness of the forest, a secret house
set about with triple thorns, so that none might
enter. Thither he had assembled six of those that
wrought in silver very subtly, and had laid before
them silver and gems and gold, bidding them pre-
pare such a branch as might grow on the tree of
life.
And they did so. And when the bough was
made, all glistening with silver and gems, after
many moons, he betook him again stealthily to
32
HUMOR IN THE JAPANESE STYLE
the sea-shore and aboard a boat, whence he sent
word to his warriors of choice that he was come
home again; and they met him, greatly rejoiced
at the prince's coming.
News of it came to the moon-white maid, and
she wept, thinking that Fate was indeed adverse,
and she must wed. But the fame of the bough
went abroad, and the prince came, bearing that
glistening treasure, with sandalwood and rich
silks wrapped about it. And with his warriors
of choice he came, knocking at the chamber door.
But the maid hid in an inner chamber, bitterly
weeping. The old grim bamboo-cutter rejoiced
at the sight of the prince, for he was indeed a most
princely suitor; therefore, bidding the prince be of
good heart, he himself came in to the maid, bearing
the bough, and with it verses like these:
Through perils dire
Of flood and fire
I return and bring
To the maiden's whiteness
This bough of brightness!
Reading these verses, the maiden wept, as she
well might, not at the verses, nor at the perils
they depicted, but at her own danger, for she
would fain escape the sorrows of wedlock. But
the old man, at last losing patience with the foolish-
ness of girls, reproached and exhorted her, saying,
"Is not this, indeed, the very bough of the tree
of life, glistening with jewels, that thou didst
bid bring? How then shalt thou not wed him,
33
WHY THE WORLD LAUGHS
for he is, indeed, a princely suitor! Has he not
come straight from the shore, and from the ship,
lingering not even to change his raiment nor to
rub off the stain that travel and distant skies have
put upon him? How then, O maiden daughter
mine, canst thou say no to such a one?' 7
But she, indeed pensive, her chin resting on
her palm as the tears slid down her cheeks, would
not make answer but by those her tears. The
prince waited impatiently amid his warriors, and
the old man, who, indeed, had received princely
gifts, exhorted her again, saying:
"Is he not a prince of princes, O my daughter?
And is not this the branch of the tree of life?"
Then, sighing and weeping, she replied that she
had thought the quest hard and impossible, yet
the prince had accomplished it and brought the
silver bough. So the old bamboo-cutter was
rejoiced, and brought in the prince that he might
plead for himself and tell the tale of the quest of
the bough. Therefore the prince came, and,
deeply sighing at the sight of the maiden in her
whiteness, began thus to relate the quest:
"In the month of pink cherry blossoms we set
sail, turning the bow of our ship to the wild, whirl-
ing welter of the waves on the strange, wild ocean
of the sunrise. But its dangers were naught to me,
for that I so loved this maiden, and could not
live without her. Storm-spirits screamed about
us, and wide-eyed hunger haunted us, and strange
sickness fell upon us in the trough of the welter-
ing deep. Then, after many moons had waned, we
34
HUMOR IN THE JAPANESE STYLE
came to a magical mountain, and a river of rain-
bow water flowed over a sapphire cliff. There
grew the tree of life, and thence with my arm of
might I plucked this bough, and now I have
brought it, to lay it at the foot of my beloved!"
Then indeed was heard without a noise of cer-
tain men crying and shouting, and one of the men
came forward and said:
"The chief of the silversmith makes this humble
petition namely, that he and his fellows have
toiled many days in a house by Kyoto, making a
certain silver bough. They have not received
their wages. Therefore the chief of the silver-
smiths begs that payment be not delayed, so that
they may buy victuals for their starving families!"
The tears on the cheek of that moon-white
maiden dried when she heard it, but the liver of
the prince melted within him and was as water,
for he knew that his guile was discovered, and he
fled away into the night.
IV
THE HUMOR OF INDIA
Who could live, who could breathe,
If the heart of Being were not Joy?
Taittiriya Upanishad.
I HAD a Brahman friend, a man of intuitive
spirit, of good birth and high personal distinc-
tion. We were talking of American literature, and
one of us repeated a story of Artemus Ward's, an
extravagant bit of nonsense concerning the Shak-
ers. "Ah yes," said my friend the Brahman:
"it is very amusing; but that is not the kind of
story we tell each other under the banyan-trees,
in the long evenings in India!" Then he went
on to describe a humor at once wise and courtly,
mirthful and subtle, where no mockery obscured
reverence, where the note of humanity was never
lost.
Often remembering that description, I have
thought that nowhere, perhaps, in the age-long
story of India could one find a finer example of
that urbane, courtly humor than the tale of
Damayanti's "Maiden's Choosing," whose moral
is that one may be a god without ceasing to be
a gentleman.
36
THE HUMOR OF INDIA
The story was told in the great Indian forest
by a homeless sage to the elder brother of that
Arjuna whom Krishna's teaching made im-
mortal. Nala is the hero, who is to win the hero-
ine's hand and life-long devotion. Nala the stal-
wart, a masterful horseman, is like to the love-god
in beauty, bright as the twin stars, truthful, but
a gambler. He ruled over the Nishadas, north-
ward from the Vindhya mountains. Princess
Damayanti, the King of Vidarbha's daughter, was
a pearl of maidens, bright as the summer lightning,
long-eyed like goddess Fortune, setting athrob the
hearts of men and immortals.
Praise waited ever on the names of both, Nala
hearing only of Damayanti, Damayanti only of
Nala. Therefore love, not at first sight, but out-
stripping sight, filled the heart of each. Swans
with gold-decked wings were their messengers;
their love grew till it became invincible. Dama-
yanti, no longer her own, was altogether Nala's,
whom she had never beheld. She grew thin
and pale, full of imaginings and sighs; love so
possessed her heart that rest came not nigh her,
night nor day. The King of Vidarbha saw the
signs as old as the world, knew that his child
should be wedded; the time was come for her
Maiden's Choosing. He sent summons to the
princes, shepherds of nations. The princes drew
near Vidarbha, filling the world with the sound
of their chariots and elephants and horses; mighty,
adorned with garlands and jewels, seeking to win
the pearl of the world.
37
WHY THE WORLD LAUGHS
The gods, the immortals, visiting Indra, their
king, god Agni, and the shepherds of the world,
heard from Narada of the coming Choosing.
The gods, the immortals, said, "Let us also go!"
King Nala, hearing of the assembling princes,
went forth to the Maiden's Choosing, not down-
hearted. The gods saw Nala, as he journeyed,
bright as the sun; even the gods were dismayed
at his beauty.
Coming forth from the white of the sky, the gods,
immortals, spoke to Nala: "Hail, king of the
Nishadas! Thou standest ever firm in truth.
Help us, becoming our ambassador!"
Nala, assenting, promised, his palms joined in
reverence, then asked who they might be who
addressed him, and what message he should carry.
To him Indra, mighty one, answered: "I am
Indra; this, Agni, the fire-lord; this, Varuna,
lord of the waters; fourth is Lord Yama, who
brings an ending to mortals. Hear the message:
Go thou to Damayanti, saying to her that gods
Indra, Agni, Varuna, and Yama, best of im-
mortals, are coming to seek her in wedlock. One
of these four shall she choose and take for her
husband!"
Thus Lord Indra. Nala made answer, palms
reverently pressed together: "Ask not this of
me, who am on the same errand! How can he
who has lost his heart to a maiden ask her hand
for another? Therefore, gods, spare me this
embassage!"
The gods answered: "Thou hast promised;
38
THE HUMOR OF INDIA
shalt thou not perform? Go, therefore, king of
the Nishadas!"
Nala withstood them: "How can I enter," said
he," the well-guarded gates?" "Thou shalt enter!"
said Indra, lord of immortals.
So Nala went to the Vidarbha palace, entering,
by Indra 7 s grace, the bower of Damayanti. He
saw her there among her companions, brighter
than the moon's radiance; at her sweet smile his
love grew greater. But he held love in check,
keeping faith with the gods as their ambassador.
The maidens, seeing him, rose, startled by his
beauty; shyly they praised him to one another,
wondering if he were a god or one of the seraphs.
Damayanti first found words, with a charming
smile addressing Nala: "Who art thou, faultless
of form, increasing my heart's love, that art come
hither as a god? How didst thou enter, for the
palace doors are well guarded?"
Nala named himself, king of the Nishadas;
coming now as the gods' messenger, by whose
grace he had entered : Lord Indra ; Agni, the
fire-lord; Yama, lord of death; Varuna, lord of
the waters. These sought her in marriage, he
said; one she should choose as her husband, as
her heart bade her.
At the naming of the gods, Damayanti reve-
rently bowed, laughing gently as she answered,
u Thou thyself must love me, King, as I love thee!
What can I do, for all I am or have is thine?"
Nala, faithful in his embassy, counseled her to
choose the gods, praising Indra, the king, whose
4 39
WHY THE WORLD LAUGHS
scepter is Law, Agni, the fire-lord, Varuna, arid
Yama, the lord of death. Damayanti's eyes were
tear-dim as she answered: "The gods I worship,
but I would wed thee! Let all come to the
Choosing. Thee will I choose, with my maiden
garland!"
Nala returned to the gods, and reported his
embassage: "I have carried your message, gods,
to Princess Damayanti. To you she pays rev-
erence, but would wed me! Therefore, let all
come together to the Choosing!"
Came the day of the Maiden's Choosing. The
princes, shepherds of nations, thronged the arena,
with its pillars and arch of gold, splendid as lions
on the mountains. Their garlands were fragrant,
their jewels bright, their weapons gleaming, their
faces like the stars.
Damayanti, too, entered the arena, bearing a
garland, stealing the eyes and hearts of the
princes. Their names and titles were heralded
before her. And Damayanti, beholding, saw
five princes alike in form, with no whit of dif-
ference between them. Among them, in her con-
fusion, she could not distinguish Nala, the king.
Whichever she looked at, that one she thought
was Nala. Then, full of doubt, perplexed, she
wondered: "How shall I know the gods? How
shall I know Nala, the king?" So in her grief she
bethought her of the divine signs and marks of
the gods. But not one mark could she discern
as the five stood there kingly upon the sand.
Then Damayanti, grieving, knew that the
40
THE HUMOR OF INDIA
hour had come to appeal to the gods on their
honor. So she prayed to the gods, with palms
reverently joined, telling of her love for Nala, of
her heart that was all his, and beseeching the gods
to help her with discernment. Damayanti prayed,
pitiful, steadfast. And the gods listened, wonder-
ing at her firm faith and love.
As Damayanti prayed, behold the gods re-
vealed, standing there in their divinity. She
beheld them sweatless, steady-eyed, their gar-
lands unfading, shadowless, not touching the
earth. But he, doubled by his shadow, his gar-
land faded, stained with dust and sweat, his eye-
lids tremulous, his feet set upon the earth. So
Damayanti, beholding the gods there, and the
king of the Nishadas with them, chose there
Nala, the king, shyly touching his garment and
laying her bright flower-wreath on his shoulders.
The gods blessed them with gifts, the princes
praised them, and Nala worshipfully loved Dama-
yanti, who had chosen him, a mortal, rivaled by the
immortals.
Here, it seems to me, is a bit of courtly humor
hard to equal. It would not be easy to find, among
the scriptures of the world, a passage which so
charmingly depicts the gods as perfect gentlemen,
touched with love, yet ruled by chivalrous honor.
And this tale of Nala and his princess has de-
lighted India ever since the dim, Vedic days of
long ago. For the gods in this story are Vedic
gods, not the later divinities of the thousand
sects.
41
WHY THE WORLD LAUGHS
About the Buddha's time, five and twenty
centuries ago, there arose in western India a new
faith, or a revival of faith, closely akin to Buddhism
yet with much of the Hindu love of caste and
ceremony, which the Buddha laid aside. This
was the cult of the Jainas, followers of Mahavira.
The Jainas, too, have their version of the tale of
Nala and Damayanti, and they have added, or
preserved, certain touches of humor not found in
the epic version I have summarized.
Damayanti, in the Jaina story, comes to the
Maiden's Choosing with her old nurse, who,
perhaps with bribed enthusiasm, praises the vari-
ous suitors in the arena. Damayanti hits off the
suitors, very much as Portia was to criticize yet
other suitors, in her boudoir talk with her maid.
The nurse bade Damayanti admire the lord of
Benares, King Bala, of mighty arm: "If thou
wouldst see the River Ganges with its tossing
waves, choose him!"
But Damayanti answered: "Good nurse, the
people of Benares have the bad habit of cheating
their neighbors; therefore my heart likes him not!"
The nurse then commends King Lion, the lord
of Kunkuna: "In the hot season, thou wilt
enjoy thyself in the cool plantain gardens!"
"The people of Kunkuna," answered Dama-
yanti, "grow angry without reason. I could not
please him at all times; therefore name another
king!"
"There is King Mahendra," said the nurse, "of
the vale of Kashmir, where the saffron grows!"
42
THE HUMOR OF INDIA
"My body," said Damayanti, "shrinks from
so much snow!' 7
The nurse then bade her choose King Jayakosha;
but Damayanti seemed not to hear, busied with
her garland.
Then the nurse bade her throw the garland
round the neck of King Jaya, the lord of Kalinga
in the south, whose sword eclipsed the moon-
light of his foes.
But Damayanti answered: "My respects to
him, who is as old as my father!"
The nurse commended the lord of Gaura, like
the sun in the heavens, whose army of elephants,
roaring, shook the world.
"Mother," said Damayanti, "the color of the
man is black and horrible as his elephants. Let
us pass quickly on!"
So they came to the lord of Ujjayini. "If
thou wouldst play among the trees growing by the
river Sipra, choose him!"
"I am weary," said Damayanti, "with so
much walking round the arena!"
Then the nurse pointed out King Nala, lord of
the Nishadas, like the god of Love in beauty.
And Damayanti, without speaking, threw the
garland of choice round Nala's neck.
Here is more of the same rich, urbane, somewhat
stately humor. But the Jaina tale is rather
prolix and tends to follow the immemorial plan
of the nest of boxes, a tale within a tale, like the
famous stories of Bagdad. Prolix, indeed, are
many of the Indian stories; but for fine brevity
43
WHY THE WORLD LAUGHS
and precision, I think the following little Jaina
parable is hard to beat:
"In the city of Kunala," says the narrator,
"two recluses, seated in the statute posture, were
meditating, with breathing restrained. It was
the season of the rains. Everywhere the clouds
were pouring. Some herdsmen blamed the holy
men, saying, ' These recluses will stop the
rain!' The recluses, hearing it, were furious.
The first recluse said, 'Rain, cloud, on Kunala!'
The second added, 'For full fifteen days!' The
first continued, 'With raindrops like clubs!' The
second added, 'Night and day!' Through the
curse of the two recluses, the cloud rained for
fifteen days, and the city was flooded. The
recluses also were drowned and went to hell.
Therefore wrath is to be avoided!"
One hardly associates humor with Buddhism.
Indeed, it may truly be said that most of the
books and teachings of Buddhism are pitched in a
minor key, somewhat "sicklied o'er with the pale
cast of thought." Yet some of the most rollicking
and boisterous Indian stories found their way, in
company with Buddhism, to lofty Tibet, whence
they have come back to us.
One of these is concerned with young Mahau-
shadha, the proverbial "Smart Aleck" of Indian
tales, and one can discern in him, agreeably to the
spirit of the Buddhist tales, a former incarnation
of Tom Sawyer.
This precocious boy was sent by King Janaka
to a hill village, to be brought up in seclusion;
44
THE HUMOR OF INDIA
and the time came when the king wished to test the
boy's growing wit. Therefore he sent to the
village head-man an order for a rope of sand, a
hundred ells long. So far there is nothing novel
about the story; but I think young Mahaushadha's
answer is all his own. Mahaushadha sent this
answer to the king: "O King! The people of
this hill village are slow-witted and stupid!
Therefore, may it please your Majesty to send one
ell of that kind of rope as a pattern, and we will
twine a hundred ells, or a thousand like it, to
send to the king!' 7
The king, well pleased, devised another test.
He sent to the hill village an order for some rice,
not crushed with a pestle, yet not uncrushed,
cooked neither in the house nor out of the house,
neither with fire nor without fire, which was to be
sent from him neither along the road nor away
from the road, neither by daylight nor in the
shade, brought neither by a woman nor a man,
by one not riding nor yet on foot.
Mahaushadha solved all these puzzles. Then
the king ordered a park to be sent him, with
gardens, fruit-trees, and tanks. Mahaushadha,
repeating himself, asked the king to send one of
his parks as a pattern, since no one in the moun-
tains knew anything about parks.
Then came a final test, and here the story-teller
lets himself go. The king sent a messenger to the
hill village with a mule, and with orders to Purna,
the father of Mahaushadha, to keep watch over it
without tying it up, and to feed it without placing
45
WHY THE WORLD LAUGHS
it under a roof. The messenger brought the mule
to Purna, and warned him that he would forfeit
his life and limbs if the mule escaped. When
Purna heard it, he was terrified, but Mahaushadha
cheered him up, saying that he would see him
through. So he ordered that by day the mule
should graze at its free will, but by night it should
be guarded by twenty men, five of whom should
guard it through the first night-watch, five through
the second, and so on to the fourth. One should
sit on its back, the other four should each hold a
leg of the mule. So it would be watched without
being tied up, and fed without being placed under
a roof.
Time passed. Janaka, the king, bethought him
to send a messenger to see how it fared with the
mule. The messenger made his report, and the
king understood that the mule could never escape
while thus guarded. So the king thought out a
plan and sent for one of the men, he who rode on
the mule's back, and bade him ride off with the
mule while the others were asleep.
On the morrow Purna saw that the mule was
gone, and knew that he had forfeited life and
limbs. Mahaushadha saw Puma's misery, and
bethought him that hitherto he had found a way
of escape, but now there was none. He said
nothing, though greatly alarmed, but set his wits
to work on a plan.
Mahaushadha then told his father, Purna, that
there was but one way, and that it could be tried
only if Purna could bear mockery. The old man
THE HUMOR OF INDIA
thought mockery more endurable than death, and
so consented. Then Mahaushadha clipped his
father's hair in seven strips and daubed his head
with paint, red, black, brown, and white. Then
he and his father mounted an ass, and hied them
to the capital of King Janaka. Report outran
them, and the king and his ministers came forth
to see if the fame of them were true. The ministers
upraided him, saying: " Wherefore is Mahaushadha
praised for his judgment, intelligence, and wisdom?
For how unseemly is his action!"
The king asked Mahaushadha why he had thus
dishonored his father. But Mahaushadha re-
plied: "I have not dishonored him, but honored
him. As I stand much higher than my father
by my great wisdom, this deed of mine confers
honor upon him!"
The king, scandalized, said, "Art thou better,
or thy father?"
Mahaushadha answered: "Assuredly, I am
better; my father is worse!"
The king rebuked him, saying: "Never had I
seen or heard that the son is better than the
father. Through the father, the son receives his
name, while the mother feeds and rears him.
The father is, therefore, altogether the better of
the two!"
The ministers supported the saying of the king,
and affirmed that it was true. Then Mahau-
shadha, falling at the king's feet, said: "O
King, this being so, the father being always better
than the son, do thou, instead of the mule which
47
WHY THE WORLD LAUGHS
is gone, accept his father, this ass, who is in all
ways his superior?' '
The climax is almost as much of a surprise to
the reader as it must have been to King Janaka
and his ministers in the days of long ago. One
finds in old Purna, with his painted pate, a kind
of foreshadowing of the Royal Nonesuch, which
fetched the Arkinsaw lunkheads, in the days of
Huckleberry Finn.
There are many caustic things about women in
the Hindu books, as bitter, some of them, as the
Proverbs of Solomon. I think the truth is that
these uxorious Orientals, feeling themselves all
too weak and prone to be beguiled, took their
revenge on women by calling them the root of all
evil.
The best of the Indian proverbs is this:
"Two things you see once in a lifetime: a per-
fectly straight cocoanut-tree, and a woman who
does not want the last word."
I find also the prototype of that wicked French
saying, "Man is the tow, woman the flame; the
devil comes and blows! 7 ' The Sanskrit proverb
is practically the same:
"Woman is, as it were, a jar of clarified butter,
and man is like a lighted coal. Therefore, it is
wise to keep the jar and the fire in different
corners."
But all this is wit rather than humor, while in
humor of the true kind India is exceedingly rich.
And it is curious and characteristic that the best
of this humor is interwoven with divine worship
48
THE HUMOR OF INDIA
or teaching concerning holy things. There is,
of course, that famous hymn in the Veda, where
the Brahmans uttering then- prayers are likened
to frogs croaking in a pond when the rains begin:
" After lying still for a year, these rite-fulfilling
Brahmans, the frogs, have uttered their voices,
inspired by the rain-god!" and so on. And in the
like vein is the Upanishad, which compares these
self-same Brahmans, who circle round the holy
fire, each holding the long white robe of him who
walks before him, to a row of white puppies run-
ning round, each holding in his mouth his predeces-
sor's tail. Surely this is slighted majesty.
But the most splendid instance of a humor,
seemingly sacrilegious yet wholly reverent, is that
passage in the Bhagavad Gita, in the great
transfiguration, where the warrior Krishna has
flamed out, before awe-struck Arjuna, as the World-
soul, the Ancient of Days. Arjuna's spirit is
burdened with awkward memories of former
familiarities. He has, as it were, clapped the
World-soul on the back. He feels he must apolo-
gize. Therefore he says, in effect: " August one,
high Divinity! If, all unknowing, I have taken
liberties, at the banquet or in the chase, nudging
thee, who art the World-soul, or calling thee by
thy first name, be not offended, august one, let
it be pardoned to me, who sinned in ignorance !"
And the famed scripture loses nothing by this
portentous pleasantry.
A fine example of this reverent playing with
high and lofty matters is the Tale of a Tiger, in
49
WHY THE WORLD LAUGHS
dear old Hitopadesha, where the striped marauder
again and again quotes the Bhagavad Gita itself.
Thus runs the tale:
"Once upon a time," quoth the King of the
Pigeons, "as I passed through the Deckan forest, I
beheld: An old tiger, who had taken a bath, cov-
ering his shining claws with grass, spoke thus:
' ' ' Hail, wayfarers, hail ! Let this golden bracelet
be accepted!'
"Thereupon a wayfarer, led on by greed, spoke
thus:
" 'This also befalls through Heaven's grace; yet,
in times of doubt as to one's aim, it is not right to
hurry. For it is written:
'Even the wished from the unwished receiving,
The end and outcome is not always fair;
Where there is poison craftily admixed,
Even the heavenly nectar makes for death!
" 'Yet in all gaining of wealth, there is cause for
doubt. As it is written:
'Till he overcomes his doubts, no man
Attains to wealth.
Overcoming doubt, he may attain,
If he survives!
" 'Thus far, I consider the matter." He says
aloud :
" 'Where is your bracelet?'
"The tiger, pushing his shining claws forward,
shows them.
50
THE HUMOR OF INDIA
"The wayfarer said:
"'How can I have confidence in thee?'
"The tiger said:
"'Now I, even I, practise ablutions and am a
giver; I am old, and have lost my nails and teeth;
how shall not confidence be placed in me? As it
is written:
'Sacrifice, study, penance, gifts,
Truth, firmness, patience, lack of lust;
This is the Way, long handed down,
The Noble Eightfold Path of Right.
'The first four Virtues of the Path
The hypocrite may practise too;
The last four Virtues ever dwell
In the Magnanimous alone.
" 'And such is my freedom from greed, that I
am willing to give a golden bracelet, that is even
now in my paw, to any one at all, even to thee,
wayfarer. All the same, the popular saying to
wit, "Tiger eats Man," is hard to overcome.
As it is written:
'The world, that ever follows where 'tis led,
May take as its instructor in right life
A dame of weakest reputation, or
Even a Brahman who has killed a cow!
" ' For I too have read the holy books. Hearken !
'As thou dost love the life of thine own self,
All other beings love their own lives too;
By self-similitude, the perfect Wise
Show to all beings pity equally.
51
WHY THE WORLD LAUGHS
" 'And again:
'Ever in all refusing and all giving,
In pleasure, pain; in what he loves or hates,
By self-similitude a man should act,
And follow thus the perfect Rule of Right.
" 'Again it is written:
'Oh, son of Kunti, succor well the poor!
Give not thy wealth to one already rich!
They that are sick alone need healing herbs;
What use are healing herbs to one in health?
" 'And again:
'What gift is given, thinking "one should give,"
To him who cannot render it again,
At the right place and time, to the right man,
Such is a gift of Goodness. This they know.
" 'Therefore, after bathing here in the lake, ac-
cept this shining golden bracelet!'
"Thereupon the Wayfarer, as he enters into the
lake, sinking down in the deep mud, is unable
to escape.
"'I,' said the Tiger, 'will come and lift thee
up!'
"Thus declaring, and by little and by little
approaching, the Tiger held the Wayfarer in his
claws. The Wayfarer meditated:
"Tis not enough to say: He reads the holy Law!
And studies well the Vedas; if his heart be bad,
His evil nature will come out at last,
As surely as, by nature, milk is sweet!
52
THE HUMOR OF INDIA
"'For:
1 Whose senses and whose heart are uncontrolled
Is like the bathing of an elephant;
And like adornments to an ugly face,
A useless load is Wisdom without Works.
" 'This was not wisely done by me, that I put
confidence in one whose very soul is murder! As
it is written:
'Of every one, the inborn Nature shows,
In trial, and not other qualities.
Ever outstripping other qualities,
The inborn nature triumphs at their head!'
"Thus meditating, verily, he by the Tiger was
slain and consumed."
Here again we have that reverent playing with
holy things, which is so distinctive of the humor
of India. It has been well and truly said that
the Hindu lives religiously, eats religiously, sleeps
religiously, and dies religiously. So full of reve-
rence is he that he pays devotion even to symbols,
carved of wood and stone, which render visible
to him the unseen invisible things; and this reve-
rence of his we misname idolatry.
It is at once singular and in a sense deeply right
and fitting that this same Hindu, whose every
moment is full of the intuition and pressure of
divine things, should be the one among all the
peoples and faiths to wreath the gods in garlands
of humor. Perhaps this light and joyous treat-
53
WHY THE WORLD LAUGHS
ment of holy things a treatment consistent with
perfect reverence is part of the contribution
which the mind of India has to offer to the world.
Perhaps its true cause is the recognition, so finely
expressed in the Upanishad verse which I have
taken as the text of this essay: that the heart of
being is Joy; and it is something of this joy and
cheerfulness, breaking through, even in the con-
sideration of the holiest things, which gives such a
distinctive quality to the humor of India.
I have one more story, again centering in that
ancient city of Ujjayini among the Mahratta hills,
whose prince was among the suitors of Damayanti,
which also makes gentle sport of the people of
heaven.
The story says that, in the city of Ujjayini,
there dwelt a gambler, a ruffian the Terror, by
name. He always lost, but the others, who won,
gave him a few cowrie shells, that he might con-
tinue in the game.
Being destitute, the Terror could buy only a
little wheat-flour in the evening; and, going to the
Temple of Death outside the city, he stole palm-
oil from the temple lamps to knead his flour, and
cooked him a cake on the funeral pyre; then, resting
his head on the knee of the image of Death, he
drowsed and snored the night away.
One night, as he slept thus, dissolute, uncaring,
he suddenly awoke. And behold! the Mothers,
whose images were ranged along the temple, were
watching him. The Terror bethought him : ' ' Were
it not well to have a game with them? Haply I
54
THE HUMOR OF INDIA
may win great wealth!" So he challenged the
Mothers to a game, saying: "What ho! ye
Divinities! Come and play a game with me!"
And it is the law among gamblers that he who
refuses not accepts; so he began to play.
Being well skilled, he won much gold from them,
and at the end of the game he said: "What
ho! Divinities! As ye have lost to me, come, pay
up your losses!" But they made no reply. Then
the Terror cried out: "This is the old gambler's
trick, who, when he has lost, makes himself
rigid, feigning a swoon, so that he may not pay!
But ye cannot escape me thus! If ye pay not,
and that quickly, behold I will take a saw, and
saw your limbs asunder; for my saw is as sharp as
the teeth of this fellow, Death, and I care for
naught!"
Fiercely he ran toward them; but they, being
terrified, paid him their losses from the offerings
which had been laid on their altars. So, re-
plenished with much gold, he returned to the
gambling - house and played again lustily, but
always lost.
Returning again to the temple, making him a
cake with flour and stolen temple oil, and grilling
it on the pyre, he once more challenged the
deities, and once more won much gold, the
divinities paying as before. But the Mothers and
the other divinities, seeing their offerings dwin-
dling, were discouraged, and took counsel among
themselves as to what they should do. Then one
of the goddesses said: "Is there not a rule
5 55
WHY THE WORLD LAUGHS
among gamblers that if one shall say, 'I pass!'
such a one may not be forced to play? This is,
indeed, the rule; therefore let us do so and elude
this Terror." And the divinities all assented,
clapping their hands in joy.
So when the Terror had baked his grimly cake
upon the coals of the pyre, and had eaten it with
relish, he, as before, proposed to them a game.
But the goddess who had made the proposal
said, "I pass!" and the others, echoing, said,
"We also pass!"
But the Terror, in no wise disconcerted, turned
to Lord Death himself, and challenged him to a
game. Lord Death, seeing that the man was
bold and ruffianly, was apprehensive, and made
answer, "I also pass!"
The Terror, seeing himself thus baffled, had
recourse to guile. Laying hold of the feet of
Lord Death and bowing low, he said:
"O thou of matted locks, adorned only with a
skull, and smeared with ashes, am I not in the
same case with thee? As thou drawest near to the
pyre for thy food, so I! As thou respectest
neither high nor low, so I! As thou bringest
loss, so I! Therefore be thou propitious to me!"
Lord Death, well pleased, made answer to him:
"O Terror! As thou art well pleasing to me, so
will I befriend thee! Listen, therefore, to my
word ! In the temple garden there is a sacred pool
adorned with lotuses, blue, white, and red. Thither,
by moonlight, come heavenly nymphs to bathe,
laying aside their glistening robes and disporting
56
THE HUMOR OF INDIA
them in the water. Do thou, therefore, go thither :
and when the heavenly nymphs doff their bright
robes and enter the pool adorned with lotuses, do
thou seize their robes! And when they demand
them back of thee, thou shalt say: ' Behold, I
will in no wise render them up, unless ye pay
ransom!' And as ransom thou shalt ask the
heavenly nymph named Crescent, because she
wears a silver crescent on her brow."
The Terror did so, for he feared naught and was
a ruffian. And the nymphs, unwilling to linger
in the water lest dawn should come upon them,
delivered up to him the nymph named Crescent.
For the lord of paradise had laid this punishment
upon her, that she should wed a mortal, because
she had spoken carelessly of paradise, saying that
the joys of mortal men were better far.
Crescent, being taken by that Terror, straight-
way loved him, for that he was bold and ruffianly
and regarded naught, whether great or small.
So they two dwelt in happiness. And on a day
the nymph said to him: "My lord Terror,
this day they are making merry in the celestial
realm, celebrating a feast. I, too, must be there
to wait upon the king of the immortals. Do thou,
therefore, abide here until my return."
But the Terror said: "Far from it! For I
also will go with thee." For he was ruffianly
and feared naught. So she hid him, and carried
him with her to the celestial abode. And there,
when one of the actors of the gods danced ill,
the Terror waxed wroth at him, and, crying out
57
WHY THE WORLD LAUGHS
on him for his ill acting, smote him over the head
with a club. So the gods discovered his presence
and drove him forth. And as punishment for
Crescent, who had brought him thither, they laid
this curse upon her: That she should be inclosed
in the pillar of a new-built temple which the
King of Ujjayini had built, and that she should
abide there until the temple came down in
ruins.
So it befell, for it was the command of the gods.
She, very sad, for that she was parted from her
Terror, whom she so dearly loved, wailed there,
within the temple pillar. But the Terror said:
" Behold! It is naught! For I will have re-
course to guile, and outdo the gods!" And so he
bethought him, for he regarded naught.
So, donning the dress of a religious devotee
with matted locks and a dappled fawn-skin, he
went into the city of the king. There, having
taken with him the jewels that had belonged to
his wife Crescent, he divided them in five earthen
pots, and one earthen pot he buried at each side of
the city, north, south, east, and west, and one pot
he buried in the center of the market-place.
Then, building him a hut of bark, as devotees
are wont, he dwelt by the river-bank, feigning
himself a saint, for he feared naught, neither re-
garded high nor low. And the fame of his de-
votion went abroad, and the King of Ujjayini
himself sought him out and visited him. And as
the king in his splendor stood there by the bark
hut of the false devotee, it happened that a she-
58
THE HUMOR OP INDIA
jackal howled in the forest, calling to her mate
that she had found a meal.
When the she-jackal howled with long and
wailful cry, the Terror pricked his ears, his head
aslant as one who listens; and then slowly he
began to smile. When the she-jackal howled
again, the Terror muttered, "Well, let it remain
there !"
The King of Uj jayini, burning to know the mean-
ing of it, asked him what it was. But the Terror
would not tell. Then, being importuned by the
king, as though unwilling he at last made answer :
"Hear! O King, by the force of my ascetic
devotion, I know all secrets, even the speech of
birds and beasts! And this she-jackal that howled
in the forest was saying something of a treasure of
jewels. But I answered, 'Let it there remain.' '
But the king was the more importunate, and at
last the Terror, as though reluctantly yielding,
answered: "Be it according to the king's com-
mand. Behold, the treasure is on the north side
of the city, under a clump of bamboos!" But
this he said through guile, himself having there
bestowed the treasure of jewels. But the King of
Uj jayini, unknowing of this, was astonished, and
went, and sought, and took the treasure and
brought it to his palace. And the renown of the
devotee went abroad.
It was not long till the king came again to the
bark hut of that false devotee; and as once more
the she-jackal howled, the Terror would once
more say: "Nay; let it remain!" But when the
59
WHY THE WORLD LAUGHS
king importuned him, he told of a treasure buried to
the east of the city, and so to the west, and so to
the south, and so in the center of the market-place.
On the day of the great festival, that false
devotee went to the temple, where his loved wife
Crescent was, still imprisoned in the pillar for her
sin in taking him secretly to the heavenly abode.
And the king in his splendor was there with all
his retinue. When Crescent, who was, as it were,
carved in stone upon the pillar, beheld her Terror,
for love of whom she was suffering this dire
punishment, she was at once joyed and grieved,
and began weeping pitifully.
The king saw it, and wondered, and was afraid.
Then, being full of confidence in that false devotee,
he asked what it might portend that a stone image
should so weep and wail.
But the Terror, guileful, would not answer till
the king importuned him, with growing fear. At
last he said to the king: "Q King! Of a truth,
a fearful and terrible thing has been revealed
to me by my ascetic power. If the King's Majesty
will promise me full pardon, then will I reveal it,
but if not, not."
The king promised, being now greatly afraid.
And the Terror said: "O King, it was on an
evil day and in an evil hour that thou didst
build this shrine, and truly the spot whereon it is
built is evil! Therefore a dire and fearsome
doom hangs over the King."
The king besought him, saying: "But haply
the doom may be averted."
60
; A DIRE DOOM HANGS OVER THE KING"
THE HUMOR OF INDIA
But that devotee shook his head, saying : ' ' There
is, indeed, a way. But the King's Majesty would
not take it. Therefore in three days must the
doom fall."
Again the king besought him, promising him
much gold, till at last the Terror replied: "O
King, it has been revealed to me, through my
ascetic power, that there is, indeed, a way! For
this spot is unholy, and the temple was built in
an evil hour. But if the temple be pulled down,
and set up again within three days upon a holy
spot which I shall reveal to the King, then the
doom may be averted, but if not, not."
The king, with fear upon him, commanded
that it should be done. Ere night the temple
was pulled down, so that not a stone stood, but all
was in ruins. So Crescent went rejoicing to the
Terror, her lord, and they two lived in much de-
light, having abundant gold from the king.
Lord Indra, the ruler of the gods, heard of it on
a festival day when Crescent came to paradise
to pay her respects. And Indra was astonished
at the guile of the Terror, and laughed long at
the tale, for that the Terror had cheated even the
lord of paradise, being ruffianly and fearing
naught.
THE GENTLE GALES OF PERSIAN JESTS
THE prettiest piece of Persian humor I have
yet found is this little love-poem of a boy and
a girl: "I went upon the mountain-top to tend
the herd/ 7 the boy declares; "and there I saw
a girl; her charm bewildered me. To her I said,
'Lass, give me a kissF But she replied, 'Lad,
give me first some money! 7 I answered, 'But the
money's in the purse; the purse is in the satchel,
and the satchel's on the camel's back; and, woe
is me! the camel's in Kirman.' She answered me,
' Thou wishest for a kiss from my soft lips ! Truly,
the kiss rests there upon my lips; but these my
lips are closed by lock and key; the key is in my
mother's keeping; she, alas! is, like thy camel, in
Kirman.' '
From some study of Persian love-songs, I am
inclined to think that, in due time, the camel and
the key returned from Kirman. Somewhat in the
same vein is this fragment of a song, "In our
bill of love, which is still unsettled, there are a
number of outstanding kisses to be given and re-
ceived." And, in this one line from the reed-
pen of a Persian bard who died centuries ago, there
62
THE GENTLE GALES OF PERSIAN JESTS
is evidence of the eternal sameness of the human
heart, for did not that bard write of his swarth
beloved, "Amid the fruits of beauty, thou art
my peach."
There is a touch of satire, too, in the saying,
also from a Persian love-song, "A love-sick poet
will find inspiration even in a gallows-tree!"
In general, however, the genius of Persian humor
lies in quickness of reply and repartee, and this
quality is charmingly illustrated in a book from
which I have ventured to borrow my title. It is
the work of one Abdur Rahman that is, "The
Slave of the Compassionate God," who was born
at Jam, near Herat, a few years after Dan Chaucer
died. From the town of his birth, he is called
Jami, which signifies The Man of Jam. The title
of his book in full is this, "The Blowing of the
Gentle Gales of Jests and Fragrant Airs of Jokes,
which cause the Rosebud of the Lips to Smile,
and make the Blossom of the Heart Expand"
a title sufficiently delicious in itself.
The Man of Jam begins his jest-book daringly,
by undertaking to prove that Mohammed himself
was a humorist. It is related, he writes, that
His Eminence the Prophet (God bless and pre-
serve him!) spoke thus: "The believer is jocular
and sweet-tempered; the infidel is sour-faced and
morose." Further, the Prophet (God bless and
preserve him!) once said to an old woman, "Old
women cannot enter paradise." When the old
woman began to weep, the Prophet said, "Be-
cause Most High Allah will renew their youth,
63
WHY THE WORLD LAUGHS
and crown them once again with beauty. Then
will He admit them to His heaven." Again, the
Prophet said once to the wife of one of his com-
panions, "Ask thy husband how his health fares,
for I perceive that there is white in his eye."
With great celerity and agitation the good dame
hastened to her husband, who asked the cause of
her distress. When she had repeated what Mo-
hammed had told her, the husband said, "His
Eminence spoke truth; there is, indeed, white in
m y eve > an d black also; yet not of a dangerous
sort."
Whereupon the Man of Jam, having established
the orthodoxy of jesting, proceeds with his tale.
There was once, he says, a learned man who sat
writing a letter to one of the friends of his heart.
He was disturbed and greatly annoyed by the
conduct of a rude person who, seated at his elbow,
kept glancing at the letter out of the corner of
his eye. So the wise man wrote, "Had not a
hireling thief been seated at my side, busily read-
ing this letter over my shoulder, I should have
written thee of a certain secret matter." Where-
upon the other cried out, "By Allah, my lord, I
have not read nor even looked at thy letter!"
A blind man was passing along the roadway in
the darkness of the night, with a jar on his shoulder
and a lit lamp in his hand. A meddlesome fellow
met him, who cried out, "O fool, since day and
night are alike to thee, since darkness and
light are as one to thy blind eyes, what use hast
thou for this thy lamp?" But the blind man
64
THE GENTLE GALES OF PERSIAN JESTS
laughed, and answered him, "This lamp is not for
me, nor to guide these blind eyes of mine. It is
for ignorant fools like thee, that they may not
knock against me and break my jar."
This is what I mean by the genius of Persian
humor being repartee. Somewhat caustic, too, is
this story, told against himself by a wise man
who had an uncommon lack of personal beauty.
He related that once, while he was passing
through the bazar, or, as we should say, the
market-place, an elderly woman took him by
the hand and led him to the house of a brass-
founder. Entering, she said to the founder,
"Make it like this!" and then, presently, bade
the wise man good day and departed. Greatly
astonished, he asked the brass-worker what this
might mean.
"She ordered an image of Satan," answered
he, "but I knew not how to fashion it. There-
fore she brought thee here."
The same wise man declared that once, when
he was standing in the street conversing with a
friend, a woman came and, standing opposite him,
gazed long in his face. When her staring had ex-
ceeded all bounds, he said to his slave, "Go to that
woman, and ask her what she seeks." The slave,
returning to him, reported her answer thus: "'I
wished/ said she, Ho inflict some punishment on
my eyes, which had committed a great sin. 7 r '
An exceedingly ugly man, says Jami, was once
in the mosque, asking pardon of Allah for his
sins and praying to be delivered from the fires
65
WHY THE WORLD LAUGHS
of hell. One who overheard his prayer said
to him, " Wherefore, O friend, wouldst thou cheat
hell of such a countenance? Art thou reluctant
to burn up a face like that?"
Once again the story-writer tells us that a cer-
tain person with a hideous nose was once on a time
wooing a woman. Describing himself to her and
trying to make an attractive picture, he said, "I
am a man devoid of lightness and frivolity, and
I am patient in bearing afflictions."
"Ay!" said the woman. " Wert thou not patient
in bearing afflictions, thou hadst never endured
thy nose these forty years."
All of which is more witty than kind. Hardly
less sharp is this next tale. Bahlul, we are told,
once came into the presence of the famed Caliph
of Bagdad, the good Harun al Rashid. One
of the Viziers accosted him, saying, "Rejoice,
O Bahlul, at these good tidings! The Prince of
the Faithful has made thee ruler over apes and
swine!"
"Take my orders, then," quickly retorted
Bahlul, "for surely thou art of my subjects."
Again, there is a spice of national hatred in such
a tale as this: A Turk, says Jami, being asked
which he would prefer, plunder in this world or
paradise hereafter, made answer thus, "Let me
to-day engage in pillage, and carry off all that I
can find; to-morrow I shall be willing to enter
hell-fire with Pharaoh the persecutor!"
For some reason or other, the Man of Jam seems
to have a deep detestation of school-teachers, if
66
"WERT THOU NOT PATIENT IN BEARING AFFLICTIONS, THOU HADST NEVER
ENDURED THY NOSE THESE FORTY YEARS "
THE GENTLE GALES OF PERSIAN JESTS
one may judge from the many sharp jests he directs
against them. For example, this: A teacher, he
says, whose son had fallen ill and was at the
point of death, bade them send for the washer
of corpses to wash his son. "But," they ob-
jected, "he is not dead yet!"
"Never mind," said the teacher, "he will be
dead by the time they have finished washing
him."
Again, they said to the son of another teacher,
"What a pity thou art such a fool!"
"Else were I no true son of my father," he
replied.
A certain person, after going through the
stated prayers in the mosque, began to make a
special petition, begging that he might enter
heaven and be delivered from the fires of hell.
An old woman was standing behind him, and
overheard his eloquent prayer. "O Allah!" she
cried. "Let me be a partner in that which he
desires!"
The man, hearing these words, continued, "O
Allah, let me be hanged, or die under the lash!"
"O Allah!" exclaimed the old woman. "Be
compassionate, and preserve me from that which
this man seeks!"
When he heard her, the man turned his face
round toward her, and said, "What an unjust
arrangement is this, and what unfair distribution!
In comfort and ease thou wouldst be my partner,
but wouldst let me suffer pain and trouble alone!"
A Bedouin once lost a camel; and, after seeking
67
WHY THE WORLD LAUGHS
it long in vain, made an oath that, if he found
it, he would sell it for a silver diram, which is as
who should say a dime. But when he did find
it, he repented of his oath. Therefore he tied
a cat to the camel's neck, and went through the
bazar calling out, "Who will buy a camel for one
diram, and a cat for a thousand dirams? They
must be sold together, for I will not separate
them!"
Yet another Bedouin who had lost a camel
made proclamation thus: "Whoever brings back
the camel I have lost shall have two camels as a
reward!"
"Out on thee, man!" they said to him. "What
kind of business is this? Is the half worth more
than the whole, or one than two?"
"Ah," replied he, "it is evident that you have
never tasted the joy of finding, or the pleasure of
recovering what was lost!"
Here is a jest five centuries old, yet it has a
certain point to-day. A doctor, says Abdur
Rahman Jami, was observed, whenever he ap-
proached the cemetery, to draw his cloak over his
head, and hide his face. When he was asked why
he did this, he replied, "I am ashamed, because
so many of the inhabitants of the cemetery suf-
fered at my hands!"
Jami puts the following tale into the mouth
of a too thrifty friend. "One day, in the season
of spring," says he, "I went out with a party
of friends to ramble and survey the pleasant
plains and fields. WTien we were resting in a
63
THE GENTLE GALES OF PERSIAN JESTS
charming spot and had spread our cloth to
eat, a dog perceived it and hurried up to the
place from afar. One of the party took up a
stone, and, as if he were throwing it some bread,
cast it to the dog. The dog sniffed at it, and
then turned and ran back whence it had come with-
out a moment's delay, paying no heed to all our
calling. While my friends were wondering at the
actions of the dog, one of them said, 'Do you
know what this dog is saying to himself? He is
saying, " These poor wretches are so stingy and
hungry that they are eating stones. What hope
can their tray afford me, and what enjoyment
their cloth?" "
There is something almost ferocious in such
a tale as this. A youth, says the Man of Jam,
was asked, "Dost thou wish thy father to die,
that thou mayest enjoy the inheritance?"
"Not so!" he replied. "I wish rather that they
would kill him, that I might take not only the
inheritance, but also the fine exacted for his
death."
Less sardonic, yet sharp enough, is this joke at
the expense of the bards. A poet, he says, went
one day to a physician, and complained to him,
saying, "I have something sticking in my heart
which makes me very uncomfortable and sends
a numbness through all my limbs, while my hair
stands on end."
The physician, who was a man of wit and tact,
said to him, "Hast thou of late composed any
verse which thou hast not yet read to any one?"
WHY THE WORLD LAUGHS
"Yes," replied the poet, "I have."
"Repeat it to me," said the physician.
When this was done, he said, " Repeat it again!"
After hearing it a second time, he said, " Rise
and go forth! Thou art saved. It was this verse
of thine which stuck in thy heart, spreading its
dryness through thy system. Now that thou hast
freed thy heart of it, thy health will return."
So far the book of Jami the Persian, illustrating
well enough the nimbleness of his wit, with the
sharp and cutting quality of Persian jests. There
is something of the same knavish sharpness in
the ensuing tale, which comes from the Persian
book of Sindibad, whose plot, indeed, deals with a
most knavish intrigue and involves many of the
wiles of women and the ' wiles of men. Of the
latter I have chosen one which relates that there
was once a young man, a merchant, who wandered
about the world like a zephyr, and who, like the
sun and the moon, was on his travels every month
in the year. He was now at Khata, now at
Khutan, now in Aleppo, and now in Yaman. He
carried the products of Khorassan to Kharazm;
he conveyed the stuffs of Ispahan to the Emperor
of China; he sold in Bokhara the products of
Abyssinia; and so made a profit of ten on each
one of outlay.
One day they told him that at Kashgar sandal-
wood was of equal value with gold and was sold
for its weight of the yellow, shining metal. There-
fore he resolved to proceed thither, and, having
converted all his capital into sandalwood, he set
70
THE GENTLE GALES OF PERSIAN JESTS
out on his journey. When he had come near to
Kashgar, a person of the country, hearing that he
had a large supply of sandalwood, in which he
himself dealt, and fearing that that commodity
would be depreciated by its abundance, devised
the following stratagem: Going two stages out
of the city, he halted at the spot where the foreign
merchant was, and, having pitched his tent and
opened his bales, he lit a fire and piled sandalwood
on it for fuel. When the merchant smelt the odor
of the sandalwood, he rushed from his tent in
amazement and vexation; the man from the city
saluted him, saying, "Thou art welcome. May
Allah protect thee from evil! Say from what
country comest thou, and what merchandise hast
thou brought?' 7
The merchant informed him.
"Thou hast made a sad blunder," declared the
man of the city. "Why hast thou brought cumin
seed to Kirman? For the whole timber of this
country is sandalwood; every casement, roof, and
door is made of it. If one were to bring common
wood here, it would be far better than sandalwood.
Who has been so cruel as to suggest to thee this
ill-advised scheme? Does any bring musk to
Chinese Tartary, where dwells the musk-deer?"
"Alas!" said the young merchant to himself.
"I have thrown away my capital! Verily, cove-
tousness is an unblest passion. Alas for my long
journey and the hardships I have endured! What
have they availed? He who is not content with
what God allots him, prospereth not."
6 71
WHY THE WORLD LAUGHS
The man of the city, seeing that the young
merchant was now ready for his purpose, said to
him, "The world is never free from profit and
loss. Give then thy sandalwood to me, and I
will give thee in exchange a measure of gold or
silver or of aught else thou desirest!" To this
the young merchant consented, and two wit-
nesses were called and the bargain struck. The
merchant considered that the sum he should re-
ceive was so much pure gain, and was rejoiced
to be rid of so worthless an article as he had
brought. He thence proceeded to the city of
Kashgar, and, entering that delightful spot, a
very model of paradise, took up his abode in the
lodgings of a virtuous old woman.
Of her the merchant asked a question, the reply
to which brought him much grief and pain. For
he inquired of her what was the value of sandal-
wood in that city and kingdom. And she informed
him that in that city was it worth its weight
in gold. "For in the city," she said, "headache
is common; and hence sandalwood is in de-
mand."
At this intelligence the young merchant became
distracted, for he saw that he had been duped.
He related his adventure outside the city to the
old woman, who cautioned him never to trust
the inhabitants of that city, by whose cunning
many had been undone.
When morning came, he washed his eyes from
sleep, and inquired the way to the bazar. Thither
he bent his course, and wandered through market,
72
THE GENTLE GALES OF PERSIAN JESTS
street, and field, solitary, without friend or com-
panion. He was sick at heart, for his enterprise
was entirely at a stand. Suddenly he observed
a person playing at checkers in the street. He
stopped, and thought to himself, "I will play
with this wight to dispel my grief"; and so sate
him down beside the player, quite forgetting the
caution the virtuous old woman with whom he
lodged had given him. The other agreed to play
a game with him, on condition that whichever lost
should be bound to do whatever the winner
required of him, or forfeit all he possessed. The
young merchant was soon beaten by his crafty
opponent, who was a noted sharper of that city
of sharpers; and the winner required as the forfeit
that he should drink up the waters of the sea.
The young merchant made an outcry, and the
people ran together in an uproar.
"He has stolen my eye!" cried another sharper,
a one-eyed man, whose one blue eye was the same
color as the merchant's two. And a third sharper
cried, "I will save thee, if thou make me a pair
of breeches of this piece of stone."
The story soon spread through all Kashgar.
The virtuous old woman, hearing of it, hastened
from her house and found her lodger in much
distress. She went with him to the Cadi, and
became surety for him, that she would deliver him
up on the day of trial.
When they reached her house, she reproached
him, saying, "When a man listens not to advice,
fresh calamities constantly overtake him. Did I
73
WHY THE WORLD LAUGHS
not tell thee to have no dealings with the in-
habitants of this city?"
"It is no fault of thine," replied the young
merchant; "but there is no remedy against the
decree of destiny."
He was greatly dispirited, but she consoled
him, saying, "Be not downcast, for joy ever
succeeds to grief; there can be no cure till there
is a complaint. In this city there is a blind old
man with neither power in his feet nor strength
in his hands, but a man of great intelligence and
acuteness. The sharpers of the town assemble
nightly at his house, and are directed by him how
to act. Do thou therefore dress thyself this night
like one of them, and, repairing to his house, sit
silent among them. When thine adversaries
shall enter and relate their adventures of the day,
mark well his answer and his questions. Be thou
all ear, like the rose. Like the narcissus, be thou
all eye."
The young man did as she counseled him, and,
repairing thither at night, quietly seated himself
in a corner. The first who entered to take counsel
of the blind man was he who had bought the sandal-
wood. He related his adventure, saying, "I have
bought a cargo of sandalwood, for which I am to
give one measure of whatever the seller may
choose."
"O simpleton!" exclaimed the old man. "Thou
hast thrown thyself into the net. My son, this
crafty merchant has overreached thee. For if
he should demand of thee neither gold nor silver,
74
THE GENTLE GALES OF PERSIAN JESTS
but a bushel of male fleas with silken trappings
and jeweled bridles and all linked together with
chains of gold, say, how wilt thou be able to
extricate thyself from this difficulty?"
"How," replied the sharper, "could that brain-
less merchant ever think of such a thing as this?"
"Be that as it may," answered the blind man,
"I have given thee thy answer."
Next entered the checker-player, who related
the adventure of the game.
"I have beaten the young merchant at check-
ers," said he, "and have bound him to this con-
dition, and there are witnesses to our agreement
that he shall drink up the waters of the sea."
"Thou hast blundered," said the blind man,
"and thou art ensnared, while thou thinkest that
thou hast him in a snare. Suppose that he should
say, ' I will drink up the waters of the sea, but do
thou first stop all the streams and rivers that are
running into it, that I may indeed drink it dry!'
What answer canst thou give to this?"
"Nay," replied the knave; "in his whole life,
that simpleton could never think of this."
Then came the third sharper, a knave more
shameless than the other two.
"That youth," said he, "has blue eyes. I
said to him, 'This is my eye; it is evident to
every one that you have stolen it; restore it to
me, that my eye may have its fellow. 7 >;
"O thou ignorant of the wiles of the age!"
replied the old man. "Thy fortune is more adverse
than these. For if he should say, ' Pluck out thine
75
WHY THE WORLD LAUGHS
eye, and I will pluck out one of mine, that we may
put them both in scales and judge by their weight
whether they are a pair, and therefore thine !'
That young merchant will then have one left,
while thou wilt be quite blind!"
"Never," said the rogue, "will he think of such
a trick as that!"
Then came the last sharper, who said, "I
charged him to make a pair of breeches of this
slab of stone!"
But the crafty old man replied, "Thou hast
managed even worse than these. For if thy
opponent should say, 'Nay, but do thou first
prepare me thread of a piece of iron to sew
them with!' what canst thou say in reply to him?"
"How should a simpleton like he conceive of such
a thing?" the knave answered.
Meanwhile, the young man listened unobserved,
and when they had ended, he hastened home and
gave the good woman a thousand thanks f or show-
ing him a plan whereby he might foil his ad-
versaries. And so he passed the night in calmness
and tranquillity.
Next morning, when the parties appeared before
the Cadi, the first sharper, who had bought the
sandalwood, seized the merchant by the collar,
saying, "Produce thy measure, that I may fill it,
and give thee what is thy due!"
But when the young merchant gave him his
reply concerning the fleas, the sharper sat down
there confounded in presence of the Cadi. In
like manner he proceeded with the others, mak-
76
THE GENTLE GALES OF PERSIAN JESTS
ing to each the reply of the old man. At length,
after making a thousand difficulties and objec-
tions, he agreed to take back his sandalwood and
several bags of gold as compensation; then, having
sold it to good profit, he rewarded the good woman,
and straightway departed from that wicked city
of crafty men.
VI
THE JESTS THEY MADE IN BAGDAD
For it was in the golden time
Of good Harun al Rashid!
THEY used to say in Bagdad, " A wise
thief does not steal in his own quarter of the
city" sage advice followed by the Kurd, in this
authentic tale. It befell that the Commander of
the Faithful, the Caliph Harun al Rashid, one
night being restless and ill at ease, sent for his
Vizier and said, "O Jaafar son of Barmek, I am
sore wakeful and heavy-hearted this night, and I
desire what may solace my spirit and cause my
breast to broaden with amusement !"
Said Jaafar, "O Commander of the Faithful,
I have a friend, by name Ali the Persian, who hath
store of tales and pleasant stories, such as lighten
the heart and make care depart!"
Ali the Persian was summoned to the presence.
Said Ali:
"I left my native city of Bagdad on a journey,
having with me a lad who carried a leathern bag.
Presently we came to a certain city, where, as I
was buying and selling, behold! a rascally Kurd
78
THE JESTS THEY MADE IN BAGDAD
fell on me and seized my bag by force, saying,
'This is my bag and all that is in it is mine!'
" Thereupon I cried aloud, 'Ho Moslems, one
and all ! Deliver me from the hand of the vilest
of oppressors I'
"But the people said, 'Come both of you before
the Cadi, and abide ye by his arbitrament!'
"So I agreed to submit myself to such decision,
and we both presented ourselves before the Cadi,
who said, 'What bringeth you here, and what is
your case and your quarrel?'
"Said I, 'We are men at a difference, who appeal
to thee and make complaint and submit ourselves
to thy judgment!'
"Said the Cadi, 'Which of you is the complain-
ant?'
"The Kurd stepped forward and said, 'Allah
preserve our lord the Cadi! Verily, this bag is
my bag, and all that is in it is my swag. It was
lost from me, and I found it with this man my
enemy!'
"Said the Cadi, 'When didst thou lose it?'
"And the Kurd answered, 'But yesterday, and
I passed a sleepless night by reason of its loss.'
" 'If it be thy bag,' said the Cadi, 'what is in
it?'
"Said the Kurd, 'There were in my bag two
silver styles for eye-powder and antimony, and a
kerchief wherein I had wrapped two gilt cups and
two candlesticks. Moreover, it contained two
tents and two platters and two spoons and a
cushion and two leather rugs and two ewers and a
79
WHY THE WORLD LAUGHS
brass tray and two basins and a cooking-pot and
two water-jars and a ladle and a sacking-needle
and a she-cat and two dogs and a wooden bench
and two sacks and two saddles and a gown and
four pelisses and a cow and two calves and a she-
goat and two sheep and a ewe and two lambs and
two green pavilions and a camel and two she-camels
arid a lioness and two lions and a she-bear and two
jackals and a mattress and two sofas and an upper
room and two halls and a portico and two sitting-
rooms and a kitchen with two doors and a com-
pany of Kurds who will bear witness that the bag
is my bag!'
"Then said the Cadi to me, 'And thou, sir,
what sayest thou?'
"So I came forward (and indeed the Kurd's
speech had bewildered me) and I said, ' Allah
advance our lord the Cadi! Verily, there was
naught in this bag save a little ruined dwelling
and another without a door and a dog-kennel and
a boys' school and youths playing dice and
tents and tent-ropes and the cities of Bassorah
and Bagdad and the palace of Shaddad bin Ad
and a blacksmith's forge and a fishing-net and
cudgels and pickets and girls and boys and a thou-
sand thieves who will testify that the bag is my
bag!'
"Now when the Kurd heard my words, he
wept and wailed, and said:
" 'Oh my lord the Cadi, this my bag is known,
and what is in it is matter of renown, for in this
bag there be castles and citadels and cranes and
80
THE JESTS THEY MADE IN BAGDAD
beasts of prey and men playing chess and draughts.
Furthermore, in this my bag be a brood mare and
two colts and a stallion and two thoroughbred
steeds and two long lances, and it containeth
likewise a lion and two hares and a city and two
villages and a woman and two rogues and an image
and two gallows-birds and a blind man and two
wights with good sight and a limping cripple
and two monks and a Cadi and two assessors who
will bear evidence that the bag is my bag! 7
"Said the Cadi to me, 'And what sayest thou,
O AhT
"Being filled with rage I came forward and
said, ' Allah keep our lord the Cadi! I had in
this my bag a coat of mail and a broadsword and
armories and a thousand fighting rams and a
sheepfold with its pasturage and a thousand
barking dogs and gardens and vines and flowers
and sweet-smelling herbs and figs and apples and
statues and pictures and flagons and goblets
and fair-faced slave-girls and singing women and
marriage feasts and tumult and clamor and
great tracts of land and robbers and a company
of raiders with swords and spears and bows and
arrows and true friends and lovers and intimates
and comrades and men imprisoned for crime and
cup-companions and a drum and flutes and flags
and banners and boys and girls and brides in' their
wedding bravery and singing girls and five Abys-
sinian women and three maidens of Ind and four
damsels of Medina and a score of Greek girls and
eighty Kurdish dames and seventy Georgian ladies
81
WHY THE WORLD LAUGHS
and the Tigris and the Euphrates and a fowling-
net and a flint and steel and many-columned
Iran and a thousand rogues and race-courses
and stables and mosques and baths and builders
and a carpenter and a plank and nails and a black
slave with his flageolet and a captain and a caravan-
leader and towns and cities and a hundred thou-
sand pieces of gold and Kuf a and Anbar and twenty
chests full of stuffs and twenty storehouses and
Gaza and Askalon and all Egypt from Damietta
to Assuan, and the palace of Kisra Anushirwan
and the kingdom of Solomon and from Wadi
Nuuman to Khorassan, and Balkh and Ispahan,
and from Ind to the Soudan. Therein also
(may Allah prolong the life of our lord the Kadi!)
are doublets and cloths and a thousand sharp
razors to shave off the Cadi's beard, except he
fear my resentment and adjudge the bag to be my
bag!'
"Now when the Cadi heard what we avouched,
he was confounded and said:
" 'I see ye twain be none other than two pestilent
fellows, atheistical villains who make sport of
Cadis and stand not in fear of reproach. For never
did tongue tell nor ear hear aught more wonderful
than that which ye pretend. By Allah, from
China to Shajarat, nor from Persia to the Soudan,
nor from Wadi Nuuman to Khorassan, was ever
heard the like of what ye vouch, or credited the
like of what ye affirm! Say, fellows, be this bag
a bottomless sea, or the day of resurrection that
shall gather together the just and the unjust?'
82
THE JESTS THEY MADE IN BAGDAD
"Then the Cadi bade me open the bag, and I
opened it, and behold ! there were in it bread and a
lemon and cheese and olives. So I threw the bag
down before the Kurd and went my way."
We are told that the heart of the Commander
of the Faithful was lightened, and that his breast
expanded with laughter so that he fell flat on
his back. And he bade them bestow rich gifts on
Ali the Persian.
Perhaps the Kurd at first determined to enume-
rate everything that might possibly be in the bag
and then to identify some of the things and claim
them as his own; and, intoxicated by the exube-
rance of his own verbosity, burst out into a wild
flow of exaggeration. Ali the Persian, dazed by
the Kurd's whirlwind talk, fell into the same strain,
and even raised the limit. The Kurd came back,
and Ali again followed them with a list like the
day of resurrection. Or perhaps the subtle Ali
made the story up on the spur of the moment,
to gladden the heart of the downcast Caliph.
One may contrast with this mountain of words
the brevity of the following, "A saint outside, a
devil inside, like the archbishop's donkey!" For,
if there be a story, it is left to the imagination.
In somewhat the same vein is this, "They came to
shoe the Pasha's horses, and the beetle stuck out
its foot." Some little man at court had butted in,
taking to himself the compliments and honors
meant for his betters. "The Amir's dog is him-
self an Amir," is the Arab version of "Like master,
like man"; but it makes allusion also to the inso-
83
WHY THE WORLD LAUGHS
lence of office, or of the office-boy. So does this,
"He who needs the dog says to him, 'Good
morning, my lord !"' And there is something which
comes home to us in the description of "March
weather, seven big snow-storms, besides the small
ones." We ourselves know of a city which might
be adumbrated thus, "Aleppo sociability, chatter,
and a drink of water."
There is another quaint saying among the
Arabs, which suggests its own story: "It is a
goat, even if it does fly." The obstinate man, it
seems, had seen a black speck on the hillside, and
had declared it was a goat. It rose in the air, and
he persisted, in the words of the proverb. "Throw
him into the river, and he will come up with a fish
in his mouth" needs no comment; and there is
equal wit in the saying, "The night has turned
out to suit the thief." It would be difficult to
better the saying, "The bug is a beauty to its
mother"; and there is caustic wisdom in the
proverb, "A miser's money belongs to the devil."
Curiously enough, there is a genuinely Hibernian
note in this saying of the Cairo slums: "God bless
his mother. She was even worse than his father."
But most modern of all is the phrase, "The tongue
is the neck's enemy" ; for, it would seem, the Arabs
long ago evolved the saying, to "get it in the
neck!"
There is a fine and humorous tale that il-
lustrates the menace of the neck by the tongue
the tale of the Silent Barber. It is told with
admirable reticence, and with an ascending climax
84
THE JESTS THEY MADE IN BAGDAD
like the tale of the bag, but it has, further, an ad-
mirably funny and well-developed plot. This tale
of the Silent Barber came out on that famous
occasion when six good men and true confessed
to murdering the hunchback, who was not dead
at all.
The tailor, whose jest-loving wife had been the
cause of all the trouble, related how the men of
the scissors had that very morning given a break-
fast, at which the barber was present, an old man,
past his ninetieth year, of dark countenance, with
white beard and eyebrows, with a long nose,
and of haughty aspect. To the assembled guests
the host brought in a strange and handsome
youth of the inhabitants of Bagdad. He was
attired in clothes of the handsomest descrip-
tion, but was lame of one leg. He bowed, smiling,
to the company, who rose to greet him; but
when he saw the barber, he turned furiously
and would have left the hall.
" Wherefore thy wrath?" asked the host.
"This barber! 7 ' answered the youth. "A pesti-
lent fellow! 'Twas he that caused the injury to
my leg."
"Nay," protested the barber, "but I saved him
from much evil."
Said the host, "We conjure thee by Allah, relate
the adventure!" But the barber grew pale when
he heard it.
Said the youth, "Good sirs, my sire was a
merchant of Bagdad. He was admitted to the
mercy of Allah, and left me much wealth. Then
85
WHY THE WORLD LAUGHS
I began to attire myself in clothes of the hand-
somest description and to feed on the most de-
licious meats. Now Allah, whose perfection be
extolled, had made me a hater of women. One
day it befell that I was walking through the
streets of Bagdad. A party of merry maidens,
coming toward me, blocked my way, and I, being
a woman-hater, fled from before them, down a by-
street, and sate me on a stone bench. A window
across the by-street opened, and there looked forth
a moon-bright damsel with Babylonian eyes.
She watered the flowers in the window-box and
withdrew. Fire transformed my heart. From
woman-hater I became lover, and sate there
distraught till sunset, when the Cadi came riding
from the law-court with slaves before him and
serfs behind him, and entered that same house.
Then I knew she was the Cadi's daughter and
beyond my reach!
"I gat me home grieving, and fell on my couch
distraught, and swooned away. My slaves wept,
but I answered them not, and my state waxed
worse. An ancient woman of my neighbors
came, who divined my plight, so I told her the
tale. ' Though she be the Cadi's daughter/ said
the old dame, ' yet can I bring thee to her. There-
fore brace up thy heart!' So I rose, heartened
and glad of face. And the old dame went in to
the Cadi's daughter and wept, and told her how
I was dying of love for her; and the Cadi's daughter
at first was wroth, then she too wept for my love,
and at last bade the old dame bring me, that she
86
THE JESTS THEY MADE IN BAGDAD
might talk with me. After three days the old
woman came and bade me make ready, for the
fair one would see me at her home on Friday, at
the hour of prayer, when her father, the Cadi, and
all the men were at the mosque. So I rejoiced,
and bade call a barber, and they brought this
fellow to me.
" Entering, he said, 'May Allah dispel thy
grief I'
"I answered, 'May Allah hear thy prayer I'
"Said the barber, 'Let my lord rejoice, for
health hath returned to thee! Wilt thou be
shaved or wilt thou be bled? For it hath been
handed down on the authority of Ibn Abbas
that the Prophet, on whom be blessing, hath
said, "Whoso shaveth his head on a Friday, Allah
will avert from him seventy calamities." And on
like authority it is said, "Whoso is bled on a
Friday, misfortune will follow after him!" ;
"I said, 'Cease from too much speaking, and
shave my head!'
"So he arose and took from his sleeve a
kerchief, which he opened, and lo! in it was
a quadrant, wherewith, going out to the court,
he began to take the sun. After pondering long,
he returned and said, 'Know, sir, that there
have sped of this our day, which is Friday the
tenth of the month Safar, of the year two hundred
and three score and three of the Flight of the
Prophet, upon whom be blessing and peace, and
the ascendant planet of which, according to the
rules of astrology, is the planet Mars of this day,
7 87
WHY THE WORLD LAUGHS
I say, there have sped seven degrees and six
minutes, and it happeneth that Mercury hath come
into conjunction with Mars; therefore the shaving
of the head is now a most auspicious undertaking.
It hath been indicated to me also that thou wouldst
confer a benefit; happy is the receiver! But it
hath also been revealed to me that a certain
matter portendeth, whereof I would not speak/
" 'In the name of Allah !' I cried. l Thou weariest
me, and dissipatest my wits, and augurest against
me, when I desired thee only to shave my head!
Arise, then, and shave it, and cut short thy
words!'
" 'In the name of Allah!' said he. ' Didst thou
comprehend the matter, thou wouldst ask me to
speak more. I counsel thee to do this day as I
admonish thee, according to the secrets of the
stars. Thou shouldst acclaim Allah, and not
withstand me. I give thee good counsel, and
regard thee compassionately. Would that I were
in thy service a year, that thou mightest learn my
worth, nor would I seek for pay!'
"I replied, 'Thou slayest me with thy tongue!'
Is there no escape? for my heart burned to visit
the damsel, and I feared lest ere my coming the
Cadi would return, and all be lost.
' ' Said the barber, ' O my master ! I am he whom
they call The Silent, for the fewness of my words,
for it is this that distinguisheth me from my
brothers; for my eldest brother is named Bakbuk,
and the second Heddar, and the third Bakbak,
and the fourth Alkuz, and the fifth Anashar, and
88
THE JESTS THEY MADE IN BAGDAD
the sixth is named Shakabak, and the seventh is
named Al Samit, The Silent, and he is myself! 7
"I felt as if my liver had burst, and said to my
slave, 'Give him a quarter of a piece of gold, and
let him go in the name of Allah! I no longer wish
to shave my head!' For the time was speeding,
and my heart was hot.
"But the silent one answered, 'What saith my
lord? Nay, can I serve thee not, how can I take
thy gold? For I must serve thee, for such is my
duty and my need, and I dare not if I receive no
reward. For if thou knowest not my worth, I
know thine; and thy father, on whom may Allah
show grace, treated us beneficently, for he was a
generous man. By Allah, thy father sent for me
on a day nay, even such a day as this and I
came to him in the midst of his friends, and he
addressed me, saying, "Take some blood from
me!" So I took the astrolabe and observed the
sun's altitude, and found the ascendant of the hour
to be of evil omen, and that the letting of blood
would be fraught with peril, wherefore I so in-
formed him, and he hearkened to me, and had
patience, waiting until the auspicious time, when
I took blood from him. He, indeed, withstood me
not, but thanked me, and in like manner all the
company thanked me, and thy father gave me a
hundred pieces of gold.'
"Said I, 'May Allah show no mercy to my
father for knowing such a man as thou!' For
the damsel was awaiting me, and I bethought me
of her Babylonian eyes.
89
WHY THE WORLD LAUGHS
"But the barber made answer, ' There is none
great but Allah, and Mohammed is the Prophet
of Allah! Praised be the majesty of Him who
changeth others, but He changeth not! I es-
teemed thee to be not other than a person of wis-
dom, but thou speakest unwisdom because of thy
sickness. In the most excellent Koran, Allah
hath mentioned those who abstain from anger
and those who forgive but thou art excused. I
am unacquainted, however, with the cause of thy
haste. Thou knowest that thy father did naught
without taking counsel with me, and it hath been
said also that he whose counsel is sought should
be trusted. Am I not a man skilled in the ways
of the world and ready to serve thee? I am not
displeased with thee. How, then, art thou dis-
pleased with me? But I forgive thee because of
the favors thy father bestowed on me. Thou art
but a youth, and thy sense is weak. It is not long
since I carried thee on my shoulder, and took thee
to school/
"Then said I, bethinking me of her who
waited, 'In the name of Allah depart, that I
may discharge my business!' and I rent my gar-
ment in anger.
"When the silent one saw it, he laid hold on
his razor, and set him to sharpening it. And
this he continued, till methought my soul had
fled from my body. Then, approaching my head,
he shaved a small part of it. Then, raising
his hand from me, he spoke thus, 'O my
master! Haste is of the Devil! I think that
90
THE JESTS THEY MADE IN BAGDAD
thou knowest not my condition, for this hand of
mine resteth upon the heads of kings and amirs
and sages. 7
" 'Leave what concerneth thee not!' I cried.
'Thou contractest my heart!'
" 'I have a fancy/ said he, 'that thou art in
haste?'
" 'Yea, yea, yea, by Allah, I am!' said I.
" 'Haste not!' said he, 'for haste is of the Evil
One, and is the begetter of grief and repentance.
The Prophet, on whom be blessing, hath said,
" Happy is the matter that beginneth deliberately!"
And, before Allah, I am in doubt as to this affair
whereto thou hastest! Thou wouldst do well,
therefore, to make it known to me.'
"He threw the razor from his hand in anger, and,
taking the quadrant, went again to observe the
sun. After he had waited a long time he re-
turned and said, 'There remaineth now until the
hour of prayer.' . . .
" 'In the name of Allah,' I cried, 'be silent, for
thou causest my liver to burst!'
"And thereupon he took the razor, and sharp-
ened it as he had done before, and shaved another
portion of my head. Then, stopping again, he
said, 'I am in anxiety on account of thy hurry.
If thou wouldst acquaint me with its cause, it
would be better for thee, for thou knowest that
thy father did naught without consulting me.'
"I perceived now that I could not escape his
importunity, and said within myself, 'The time of
prayer is almost come, and I must go before
91
WHY THE WORLD LAUGHS
they come forth from the mosque. If he delay
me a little longer, I know not how I shall gain ad-
mission to her/ Therefore I said to him, ' Hasten,
O barber, and cease from thy talk, for I desire to
go to an entertainment with my friends!'
"But when he heard of the entertainment, he
said, 'This day is a blessed day for me. For
yesterday I invited my intimate friends to come
and feast with me, and lo! I have forgotten to
prepare the repast! But now thou recallest it
to me. On account of my negligence I shall
suffer disgrace and confusion!'
"Therefore I said to him, 'Be not concerned
about this, for I have told thee that I go forth;
therefore all that is in my house is thine, for thy
entertainment, if thou wilt use haste in my
matter and quickly shave my head/
" 'May Allah reward thee with all blessings!'
he cried. ' Tell me, therefore, what is in thy house
for my guests?'
" 'Five dishes of meat,' said I, 'and ten fowls,
and a roast lamb !'
" 'Let them be brought,' said he, 'that I may
see them!'
"So I had them brought, and the barber, re-
joicing exceedingly, cried out, 'Heaven hath been
gracious unto thee! How generous is thy heart!
But the incense and the perfumes are lacking!'
"Therefore I bade bring a box of perfumes,
aloe and ambergris and musk, worthy fifty finars.
The time was now shrunk, like my heart, so I
said to him, 'Take these gifts; and finish the
92
THE JESTS THEY MADE IN BAGDAD
shaving of my head, by the life of the Prophet,
whom may Allah preserve! 7
"But he answered, 'Nay, I will not until I
see what be in the box! 7
"I therefore bade the slave open the box before
him. Whereupon, throwing down the quadrant
from his hand, he sate him on the ground and,
taking the box, turned over the aloe and musk
and ambergris in his hand, till my soul well nigh
parted from my body.
"Then, rising, the barber once more took his
razor, and shaved yet another portion of my
head. After a while he fell a-pondering, and said,
'By Allah, my son, I know not whether I
should thank thee or thy father; for my feast
to-day is wholly of thy bounty, and none of my
guests is worthy of it, for I have among my guests
Zaitun, the keeper of the baths, and Salia, the
wheat-seller, and Ukal, the bean merchant, and
Akrasha, the grocer, and Homayd, the dustman,
and Akarish, the milk-seller, and each of these hath
a dance which he danceth, and each of them
knoweth verses which he reciteth, and I, thy ser-
vant, know neither garrulousness nor forward-
ness. And each of them hath a jest that the other
hath not ; but the telling is not equal to the seeing.
Therefore, if thou wilt, leave thy friends for this
day, and be of our company, for doubtless thy
friends are persons of much talk that will weary
thee, with thy sickness yet on thee/
" 'If it be Allah's will/ I answered, 'that shall
be on another day. 7
WHY THE WORLD LAUGHS
"But he answered, 'Nay, better is it thou join
my friends first, and find pleasure in them.'
"I laughed from a heart laden with anger, and
said to him, ' Do thou what I require of thee, that
I may go in the care of Allah, whose name be
exalted; and go thou to thy friends, for they await
thee!'
" 'Nay/ said he, 'but I must bring thee to my
friends, for they be all men of wit and worth.'
" 'May Allah give thee joy with them,' I
answered, 'and indeed I must bring them to my
house that I may know them!'
" 'If that be thy wish/ said the barber, 'I will
hasten to my house with these gifts, and then,
returning hither, go with thee to thy friends, and
then shalt thou come with me to my friends.'
"Thereupon I cried out, 'There is no strength
nor majesty save in Allah, the High and Mighty!
Go thou to thy companions and make merry with
them, and let me go to mine!'
" 'Nay, but/ he replied, 'I will not leave thee!'
" 'Nay, none can go with me whither I am
going!' I answered.
"Then said he, pondering sorrowfully, 'Nay,
I fear thou hast a meeting with some fair one ; else
wouldst thou take me with thee! Beware,
therefore, lest danger overtake thee!'
" 'Woe upon thee, shameless old man!' I
answered. 'What words are these?'
"Thereupon he shaved me in silence, and the
hour of prayer drew ever nigher. When he had
made an end of shaving me, I said, ' Go now, make
94
THE JESTS THEY MADE IN BAGDAD
merry with thy friends, and return hither! I will
await thee, and thou shalt go with me! 7
"But he replied, 'Nay, thou seekest to deceive
me and to bring calamity upon thyself. In the
name of Allah, quit not this place till I return I'
" 'Come quickly, then!' I answered. So he
departed, taking with him the largess of dainties
for the feast. But he went not to his home, but,
delivering the dainties to a porter, he returned,
and hid himself in a by-street near my house,
though I saw it not.
"When he was departed from me, I arose
quickly. The muezzins on the minarets had
already chanted the call to prayer. I donned fair
raiment and went forth alone, betaking me to the
by-street of the Cadi's house, and I went toward
the door where I had beheld the damsel. And
my heart was hot, for I knew that she awaited
me. But, lo! the barber had come forth, and was
close behind me, and I knew it not! So, finding
the door open, I entered and went into the inner
hall.
"But at that very time the Cadi returned, com-
ing from the mosque, and entered the hall, and
closed the door; and my heart grew cold with
fear. And it befell that, fulfilling the purpose of
Allah to rend the veil of protection before me, a
slave-girl committed a fault, and the Cadi struck
her. She made outcry, and one of the men slaves
came running, and him too the Cadi struck in his
wrath. The man slave cried out; and the barber,
standing without the door, thought that the cry
95
WHY THE WORLD LAUGHS
was mine, and that I was wounded by the Cadi.
So he rent his garment, and threw dust on his
head, and howled for help. A crowd gathered,
and the barber cried aloud:
" 'My master is in that house, and the Cadi
hath slain him!' Then, running to my house
with the crowd following him, he alarmed my
household. They too came running, crying out,
'Alas for our master! Alas for our master!'
"The barber ran before them, his clothes torn,
making a pitiable howling, and the folk of the city
followed them.
"The barber wailed aloud, and all with him,
'Alas for our slain! 7 So they came to the house.
When the Cadi heard it, he was troubled, and
went and opened the door. 'What tumult is
this, O people?' said the Cadi.
" 'Thou hast slain our master!' they answered.
" 'What hath your master done that I should
slay him?' said the Cadi. 'And wherefore is this
barber come?'
" 'I heard him cry out!' said the barber. 'Thou
hast beaten him with rods!'
"Said the Cadi, wondering, 'Why should I
slay thy master? Whence came he, and whither
would he go?'
" 'Evil-hearted old man!' cried the barber.
'Wherefore dost thou make concealment? For I
know the truth and the reason of his coming!
Thy daughter loveth him, and he her, and would
come to her. Thou hast found him in thy house,
and thou hast slain him! In the name of Allah,
96
THE JESTS THEY MADE IN BAGDAD
let the Caliph decide the matter! Bring forth the
body of my master ere I enter thy house! 7
"The Cadi was abashed before the people,
and ceased speaking. But presently he said,
'Nay, if thou sayest truly, enter thyself, and bring
him forth!'
"So the barber stepped forward and entered
the house. And when I saw him coming, I sought
a way to escape, and saw a chest there, and
entered it, drawing down the lid, holding my
breath.
"The barber came to the inner hall, and,
seeking not elsewhere, came straight to the chest.
He felt the weight of it, and hefted it, and set
it on his shoulder, crying out, 'The body of my
master is here! I have found my master's body!'
And my reason went from me in wrath and
fear.
"Seeing no escape, I lifted the lid, and leaped
to the ground, thus doing hurt to my leg. When
I saw the people at the door, I scattered gold
among them to divert them, and fled along the
street. And the barber followed me.
"Wherever I ran, he pursued me, crying aloud,
'Woe is me for my master! Praise be to Allah,
who hath prevailed against them and saved my
master! Thou didst hasten toward evil, O master,
till thou broughtest this calamity upon thee!
Had not Allah blessed thee with me, thou hadst
not escaped. Pray Allah, therefore, that I may
live long to watch over thee and guard thee from
calamity! By Allah, thou hast well nigh brought
97
WHY THE WORLD LAUGHS
me too into destruction. Yet I am not angered,
but I pardon thy ignorance, for thou hast little
wit and art overhasty.'
" 'Art thou not satisfied with what thou hast
done/ I cried, 'that thou must follow me through
the streets?' And I prayed for death to liberate
me from him, yet found it not. So I ran from
him in despite and wrath, and entered a shop
in the market-place, and besought the master of
the shop to protect me against the barber. So
he drove him away.
" Therefore I said within myself, 'I cannot rid
me of this pestilent fellow, but he will follow me
night and day, and I cannot bear to look upon
him!'
"So I summoned witnesses, and made a writing,
dividing my wealth to my family, and appointing
a warden, whom I bade sell my house, and I set
forth on a journey, and came hither. And now,
behold, he is here! How then can I abide among
you?" ;
But the barber said, "In the name of Allah!
Through my wisdom did I act thus, and Allah
hurt thy leg to spare thy life. Were I a man of
many words, I had not done this; but hearken, I
will relate a happening that befell, that ye may
know me for a man of little speech and scanty
The tailor here interrupted him:
"What passed between the Cadi and his daugh-
ter, Allah knoweth."
"WHAT PASSED BETWEEN THE CADI AND HIS DAUGHTER,
ALLAH KNOWETH"
VII
THE WIT AND SATIRE OF THE HEBREWS
THE Chief Rabbi of England once pointed out,
in a spirit of perfect reverence, that there were
many passages of intentional wit in the Old
Testament, and that many more passages had
been the cause of rich rabbinical humor. One
need not be more royalist than the king; therefore
I may venture, in an equally reverent spirit, to
follow in the good rabbi's footsteps.
No story, perhaps, has been the source of more
mental ingenuity throughout the ages than the
legend of Adam's rib. Centuries ago the Jews
wove many tales and fancies out of the ancient
theme. They said, for instance, that the great
Rabbi Gamaliel had once brought the Scriptures
of his nation to the Roman Emperor Hadrian,
who, after a study of the Sacred Books, rashly
retorted to the rabbi that, in the story of Genesis,
the Creator was little better than a thief, because v
he had stolen one of Adam's ribs. Gamaliel was
bewildered and perplexed, but his fair daughter
arose to the occasion.
"Let me answer the emperor!" she begged,
a and I will vindicate our holy writings !"
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WHY THE WORLD LAUGHS
So on the next day she presented herself before
Hadrian. "O Emperor of the Romans!" she
cried. " Truly a terrible thing has happened,
wherefore we invoke thy aid!"
Hadrian was greatly concerned, and asked what
it was. The Hebrew maiden replied that, at the
dead and darkling hour of midnight, a thief had
subtly and stealthily entered their abode, and had
stolen away a silver flagon, though it was true,
she added, that he had left a golden flagon in its
place.
"Why," cried the Roman emperor, "that was
no robber, but a benefactor! Would that such a
one might rob me too!"
The Hebrew maiden smiled a subtle Oriental
smile. "Ah!" she said, looking down and blush-
ing sweetly; "then why do you blame the Creator
and accuse him of theft, seeing that, if he took
one rib from Adam, he left him Eve instead?"
The rabbis went on to embroider on this same
story, making Hadrian ask why the rib was taken,
and not the eye or the ear.
"The Creator would not take the head," replied
the daughter of Gamaliel, "lest Eve might be too
proud. He would not take the eye, lest she might
be wanton; nor the tongue, lest she might talk
too much; nor the ear, lest she might be a gossip,
listening to vain words and tales; nor the hand,
lest she might be avaricious; nor the foot, lest
she might go astray. So he chose the rib, and
from the left side, which is less worthy, so that
Eve might be full of humility."
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THE WIT AND SATIRE OF triE HEBREWS
Then follows a reply which seems to be grim
enough in its humor to have come from a Scotch-
man or a Chinaman. Hadrian finally asked why
the Creator had taken Adam's rib at dead of
night.
" Because/' said the maiden, "he wished Eve
to be well pleasing to Adam. If you see the
raw meat before it is cooked, it takes your ap-
petite away. Therefore the Creator took the
rib at night, when it was dark."
Another excellent rabbinical tale concerns
King Solomon. Once that thrice-wise sage was
sitting at the window of his palace, looking out
over his garden, when he heard a swallow twitter-
ing. Having from the Creator the gift of under-
standing the speech of beasts and birds, the great
and all-wise Solomon gave ear to the swallow's
words.
"I," said the swallow, "am the strongest
of all living things. Even King Solomon could
not stand against me!"
"How so?" said the lady swallow, his spouse.
"Is not Solomon invincible?"
"Nay," answered her mate, "if I were to enter
his palace, by the mere beating of my wings I
could slay King Solomon and reduce his palace
to ruins."
Solomon was not greatly pleased at this dis-
respectful boast; therefore, exercising his power,
he called the swallow into his room, and asked
him what was the meaning of that high saying.
"Hush!" said the swallow, winking irreverently
101
WHY THE WORLD LAUGHS
at the great king. " I only said that to humbug my
wife! She believes everything I tell her, and
thinks I am the greatest thing on earth! Honor
among husbands! Don't give me away!"
They say also that, once on a time, the great
and wise King Solomon was playing at chess with
his general Benaiah. King Solomon, to whom
even the invention of the game is attributed by
the rabbis, always won, and thought not a little
of his skill. The game had progressed to a certain
point, and King Solomon was decidedly getting
the best of it, when a sudden commotion in the
street attracted him, and, intent king-like on the
order and quiet of the city, he went to the window
to learn what was taking place. While the wise
king's back was turned, Benaiah purloined and
alienated one of the king's knights, and, when the
game was set going again, the general's advantage
was so great that he checkmated the king and
won the game.
Solomon the all-wise was at first astounded, and
then, coming to himself, he pondered on the cause,
went over the game again, and in mind repeated
move after move. Thus proceeding, he presently
discerned the trick of the missing knight and the
guile of the general Benaiah. So he set himself
to drive the warrior to voluntary confession.
And this he did after this wise. Disguising him-
self as a street robber, he left the palace, and
shortly came on two others of like profession.
They accosting, he declared that he had the key
of the treasury of the great king, and that, if
102
BENAIAH PURLOINED ONE OF THE KING'S KNIGHTS
THE WIT AND SATIRE OF THE HEBREWS
they would aid him, he would gain admittance
for them to the vaults. So at the dim, dead hour
of night, what time the sheeted dead did squeak
and gibber in the streets, the three found their
dark and felonious way to the treasure-vaults
where was stored the gold of Ophir, with vessels
of gold and silver and precious jewels innume-
rable. But no sooner were they well within the
vaults than the crafty king backed out again,
leaving his two pals in the treasure-house and
straightway locking the door on them. Solomon
summoned the watch, <and in a few minutes his
two fellow-thieves were loaded with chains and
cast into a vile dungeon. Then Solomon, once
more donning his robes of state, entered his council-
chamber, and summoned the general Benaiah.
When the general came, Solomon fixed him with
his eagle eye and demanded:
"What should be done to him who robs his
king?"
Benaiah was smitten with the remorse which
comes from the fear of being speedily found out;
and, like many a modern culprit, he made up his
mind that a somewhat tardy confession might
lighten punishment. So he fell on his knees,
confessed that he had wrongfully abstracted the
king's knight, and promised that he never would
do it again. Solomon benignly raised him and
declared that he was forgiven, in virtue of his
voluntary confession; and then he went on to tell
the disgusted general that he had really had in mind
a quite different matter the robbing, namely,
8 103
WHY THE WORLD LAUGHS
of his royal treasure. At this point the narrator
remembers that the two robbers were left in a most
uncomfortable and gloomy dungeon. So he tells
us that they were promptly summoned forth,
and that their worthless heads were stricken off
before the king.
To be quite in the fashion, there is a flying-
machine story of King Solomon well worth re-
peating. That uxorious king, it seems, was so
beguiled by Pharaoh's daughter, who was one of
his innumerable loves, that he learned from her
the pagan chants of the Egyptian gods, and,
moreover, was so charmed with them that he used
to sing them until he forgot the true Creator.
At this point he determined on a jaunt in his
flying-machine, which was evidently a monoplane,
for the ancient historian describes it as being like
a flat, square carpet, on which many soldiers were
supported, besides their king. Suddenly, as they
were whirling through the air, the winds dropped
away from them, so that the carpet sagged and
the soldiers all fell off, leaving Solomon alone.
He called to the winds to come back again, and
bear him up. But the winds, evidently instructed
beforehand, replied:
"First return thou to the true Creator !"
That the doubt as to the motor-power of that
flying-machine may not arise, we hasten to quote
another story of Solomon that, namely, in which
he is represented as answering the riddles of the
Queen of Sheba. One of these riddles was : " What
is it that wails before the wind, bends in the path
104
THE WIT AND SATIRE OF THE HEBREWS
of the storm, chokes the transgressor, clothes the
wealthy, kills the fish, and gives food to the
bird?"
The Queen of Sheba thought she had King Solo-
mon stumped completely, but after a moment's
thought the all -wise one smiled and answered:
"Flax! For it bends before the wind, makes ropes
to hang the knave, clothes the rich man in fine
linen, makes the fishing-line, and, with its seed,
nourishes the bird."
The Queen of Sheba tried again.
"What is it," she said, "that springs up out
of the earth, licks up the dust, and illumines the
darkness of night?"
King Solomon had answered, "Naphtha!" al-
most before the question was finished, so we see
that he was, in all probability, familiar with gas-
olene also.
We all remember the famed occasion on which
the all-wise king "tried to settle a 'spute about a
baby with a half a baby," but there is in the
rabbinical books another judgment of Solomon
even more romantic and touching.
A certain man, it seems, had sold his house and
received payment. The purchaser, exploring the
floor of the cellar, discovered a buried treasure and
promptly brought it to the former owner of the
house. But the latter as promptly refused to touch
it, saying that the house was sold and the price
paid, so that he had no longer the slightest claim
to anything in it. The dispute between the
generous purchaser and the even more generous
105
WHY THE WORLD LAUGHS
seller waxed hot, until at last they decided to lay
the matter before the great king. Solomon heard
them out, and then gave judgment. "The buyer,"
he said, "has a son; the seller has a daughter, win-
some and of suitable age. Go to, let the son of the
one marry the daughter, and the treasure shall
assuredly belong to their offspring." And it was
so. There is no scriptural warranty for this
story, but surely only Solomon could have so
decided.
Another of the Queen of Sheba stories antici-
pates or parallels the tale of Appelles and the
pictured grapes and the birds, but shows nature's
instinct to better advantage. The Queen of
Sheba, who seems to have had a Parisian milliner,
brought to the king two wreaths, and, as a test of
his wisdom, asked him to say which was real and
which was false. King Solomon smiled one of
those wise smiles of his, opened the window, and
let in a bee. The bee promptly went for the
real wreath, and so the king passed his test.
Even more legally refined is the following tale
of the doings of a dog. A certain man, it is
said, set a cake to cook on his fire; a dog runs in,
snatches away the cake in his mouth and escapes,
taking the cake to the barn of a neighbor to eat it
in peace. But a hot ember has stuck to the cake,
and this sets fire to the barn, which burns until
all is consumed. The legal question now arises,
who is to be blamed for the fire? The owner of
the dog, or the owner of the oven whence came
the coal? Some, relying on the legal principle,
106
THE WIT AND SATIRE OF THE HEBREWS
quod facit per alium, lay all blame on the dog,
and therefore on his owner; others maintain
that the baker was at fault, because he allowed
the dog to obtain access to his fire; yet others, who
have caught some spark of Solomon's wisdom,
say the damages should be paid equally by both.
So the rabbis go at it, as one may say, hammer
and tongs; but it does not occur to any of them to
ask whether that barn was insured. But perhaps
this is an anachronism.
There is a tale in the Talmud of a stranger who
came to a certain city bringing rich merchandise.
Arriving at an inn, he asked for lodging.
"Come to my house as a guest/' said one of the
wicked citizens, "and no payment shall be charged
you."
The stranger accepted this unwonted hos-
pitality, but in the morning his most valuable
merchandise had disappeared. On his asking the
good man of the house what had become of his
merchandise, his host declared that it was all an
evil dream, which he forthwith proceeded to
expound.
"It is no dream," cried the indignant merchant;
"I brought such and such goods to your house,
and you have stolen them! Come before the
judge."
The judge heard the story of the merchant, and
then said: "You have evidently had a dream, the
meaning of which your host has interpreted to
you. Pay him the fee for interpreting and
be gone!"
107
WHY THE WORLD LAUGHS
Which things are a parable of what befalls those
who go to law. Concerning the fair sex, there are
many quaint things in the Talmud, but none,
perhaps, more quaint than this: Some of the
rabbis contend that, in addition to the relatives
of Abraham whose names are given in the Bible,
Abraham must have had a daughter also, because
it is written, "God blessed him in all things,"
and surely a daughter is among blessings. But
other rabbis contend that the true blessing of
Abraham was precisely that he had no daughter,
for so many evils may befall the father of a girl.
She may fall sick in childhood; she may never
marry; or, escaping the reproach of a spinster,
she may be childless; or, finally, if she pass all
other dangers safely by, she may be a witch in her
old age. Hence a daughter is said to be a false
treasure.
There is one more legend in the Talmud con-
cerning Adam, which is worthy of citation. The
Adversary of mankind, the Serpent, it is said,
once saw Adam reclining at his ease in the Garden
of Paradise, with angels to wait on him, and with
the fair mother of all future men resting in her
loveliness by his side. The Adversary at once
became furiously jealous of Adam and determined
to kill him and marry Eve. (One is tempted to
ask, in parentheses, whether it is not possible that
he succeeded.) But to return to the Talmudic
legend. Adam, it seems, had somewhat exceeded
his mandate and had told Eve that not only must
she not eat of the fruit of the tree of the knowledge
108
THE WIT AND SATIRE OF THE HEBREWS
of good and evil, but that she must not even touch
the fruit or even a branch of the tree. Here the
Adversary saw his opportunity. He set himself
to persuade Eve to eat of the fruit of the tree,
whereupon she told him that she was afraid,
knowing that if she so much as touched it she
was doomed to instant death. So the Adversary
bumped her up against the tree (as he has done at
intervals ever since) and it seemed (as it has since
seemed) that no evil befell. Eve was first terror-
stricken, then astonished, then curious. So the
Adversary easily persuaded her to taste the fruit,
with what results we know.
Eve, it is said, saw the Angel of Death standing
beside the tree, and said to herself, " Perhaps now
I am going to die, and the Creator will give Adam
another wife: I will give Adam of the fruit, and
then if we die we shall die together; but if we live,
we shall live together. " After he was driven forth
from Eden, Adam was given a garment made of
the skin of the serpent, and set to toil as a tiller
of the earth.
It is said that a certain Rabbi Joshua was once
out walking when he saw a little girl carrying a
basket with a cover. Humanlike, he went over
to her and said, "My good child, what is in the
basket?"
But the small person was up to date.
"If mother had wanted every one to know what
was in the basket, do you think she would have
put a cover on it?" she replied.
Doubtless the rabbi murmured, "Stung!" But
109
WHY THE WORLD LAUGHS
here, perhaps, we have the kernel of that inimita-
ble yarn, the story of the " imaginary mongoose."
Somewhat similar in spirit' is the tale told of
Moses Mendelssohn when he was caught regaling
himself on sweets in a manner more befitting a
small boy than a sage.
Said one to him: " Rabbi, only fools are fond of
sweets!"
The wise old man smiled a cunning smile, licked
his fingers, and replied, "My son, that is a saying
made by the wise so that they may keep the sweets
for themselves."
To come now to more modern wit. Heine, it
is said, once declared that his watch was a better
Hebrew than himself, for in its numerous sojourns
with pawnbrokers it had quite outstripped him
in learning the Hebrew tongue, and, moreover,
it always stopped on Saturdays.
Another wit and man of letters, the famous
Saphir, was once guilty of some verbal misde-
meanor which caused him to be banished from the
territory of a German princelet.
Saphir retorted by saying: "If his Highness
will deign to look out of his window, he will see
me cross the frontier of his dominions."
That same Saphir was later commanded to depart
from the realm of Bavaria without a moment's
delay, because he had ventured to say that the
King of Bavaria wrote very bad poems.
"I shall go," he said, "and if my own feet will not
carry me quick enough, I shall borrow some of the
superfluous feet from his Majesty's verses."
no
THE WIT AND SATIRE OF THE HEBREWS
To this same wit one remarked that making
debts was the cause of ruin.
"Not at all/ 7 said Saphir; "the true cause of
ruin is paying debts."
But the wittiest thing attributed to this man of
pointed words is this criticism of a bad comedian:
"Joking apart, he is a fair actor."
Here are two verbal witticisms at the expense
of great Hebrews, by men who heartily respected
them. The first was directed at the late Sir
Moses Montefiore, the munificent distributer of
charity. When he died, The Spectator closed
a rightly laudatory notice of his life by saying
that Sir Moses was too great a man for his works
to be summarized in an epigram; no one could
sum him up in a bon mot. To this Punch re-
plied, "Perfectly possible: Bon Moe!"
The same frivolous journal, when the head of
the Rothschild family took the oath in the House
of Lords with head reverently covered, ventured
to suggest that a most fitting title for him would
be Baron Hatton.
Let me balance these two epigrams with one
by the great Hertzel, the Zionist leader. When
some one was indulging in witticisms at the
expense of the Zionist, bantering him and sug-
gesting that so good a man as he should be con-
verted, Hertzel, it is said, replied by saying that
he was kept back by the example of a good friend
of his who had died and gone as far as St. Peter's
gate. There he was stopped; but, as he was such
a good man, he was not sent forthwith to the
ill
WHY THE WORLD LAUGHS
nether regions, but was kept as a kind of go-
between, running errands and carrying messages,
and thus in constant touch with Peter and his
assistants. He was so good a messenger that
the general opinion of the gate finally demanded
that he should be admitted. Peter was quite
willing, said Hertzel, but his friend never got in;
for they searched the pearly realm in vain for any
one to baptize him. So did Hertzel pay old
scores.
VIII
HUMOR IN THE DAYS OF THE PHARAOHS
MOST of us make the acquaintance of Egypt in
the splendidly dramatic story of Joseph and
his brethren, and so come to look on Pharaoh and
his people as gloomy and malign persecutors fit
only to be swallowed up in the Red Sea waves.
Or we read of the grave and sober monuments of
the Nile Valley, with their perpetual reminders
of death and the kingdom of Night; with the
result that we are hardly prepared to realize the
gay and lightsome side of ancient Egyptian life,
or to credit the thought that these tomb-builders
could ever break into a smile. But there was a
side of gaiety and of charm, and, just as we are
finding that so many of our deeper and more
philosophical thoughts go back to the people
of the Delta, so we are beginning to discover
the originals of all our jokes in the buried cities of
the Nile. What, for instance, could be more
slyly humorous than this love-song, recovered
from a fragment of papyrus dug up in a city
dead for ages?
"The kisses of my beloved," sings the lover
of old Nile, "are on the farther bank of the
113
WHY THE WORLD LAUGHS
river; an arm of the stream flows between us, and
a crocodile lurks on the sand-bank. But I step
down into the water and plunge into the flood.
My courage is high, and the waves are as firm
ground beneath my feet. Love of her sends me
strength. She has given me a spell against the
waters. When I kiss her half -open lips, I need
no ale to inspire me. Would that I were the ser-
vant who waits on her, that I might ever behold
her. Her love pervades me, as wine in water,
as the fragrance in incense, as the sap in the* tree.
Never shall I be severed from my beloved, though
they seek to drive me to Syria with a club, to
Nubia with a cudgel, to the mountains with whips,
to the plains with switches. I lay me down sick
and sorrowful, and my neighbors gather sorrow-
ing round me. Then comes my beloved and puts
the physician to scorn, for she knows my malady,
and how to cure it."
That ladies were not unduly oppressed in the
land of the Pharaohs, we may gather from this
marriage contract from a fourth-century demotic
manuscript, but dating in form to far older
times :
"I," says the Lady Isis, "take thee as my hus-
band. Thou makest me thy wife, and givest me,
in token of dower, five tenths of silver. If I
discharge thee as my husband, hating thee and
loving another more than thee, I shall give and
return to thee two and a half tenths of silver of
what thou gavest me as my dower; and I cede
unto thee, of all and everything that I shall ac-
114
HUMOR IN THE DAYS OF THE PHARAOHS
quire with thee, one third part, as long as thou art
married unto me."
Not even Chicago or Reno can boast of a
franker marriage contract than that; and there is
something wonderfully naive in the idea of the
good Lady Isis " discharging" her lord, on the
ground that she hates him and loves another
better. The sum she returns him, as part of her
now canceled dower, is about equal to a silver
dollar. So we have still something to learn in
marital levity and feminine imperiousness.
There is a curious little Egyptian fable, of the
Cat and the Jackal, wherein is debated the ques-
tion of evil and an overruling Providence who
shapes all things well. The Cat, oddly enough,
is on the side of the angels, being, it would seem,
the symbol of the benevolent goddess Bast. The
Cat, first speaking, declares that this world is ruled
by the gods, that good triumphs, and all evil-
doers are punished. The sky, says the pious Cat,
may be overclouded, thunder-storms may blot
out the light, clouds may veil the sunrise. But
the sun will rise anon and scatter the darkness,
bringing light and joy with his returning beams.
The Jackal, as devil's advocate, makes answer
like any Darwinian. Look, he says, how it befalls
in the world. The lizard eats the insect, the bat
eats the lizard, the snake eats the bat, the hawk
eats the snake, and so on, ad infinitum. Who
truly knows that vengeance overtakes the sinner?
The manuscript is defective at this point,
Time, with devouring tooth, having eaten a frag-
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WHY THE WORLD LAUGHS
ment of papyrus; but it is evident that, when
the Jackal seemed to be getting the better of the
argument, the Cat turned the scale in favor of
Providence by jumping at the Jackal and
scratching his irreligious face. So that we have
advanced not a whit even in our method of con-
ducting transcendental controversy.
Another fable of antique Egypt is the immortal
dispute between the Belly and the Head, as to
which in truth does most for the welfare of the body
of man. The case is tried before the supreme
tribunal of Egypt, in the High Court of the
Thirty; and during the trial the presiding judge
weeps bitterly.
The Head opens the case for the plaintiff by
saying, "Mine is the eye that sees, mine the nose
that breathes, mine the mouth that speaks; I
govern and direct all." The answer of the diges-
tive organ is missing, but we cannot doubt that
the argument is much the same as that so skil-
fully used by the antique Roman, Menenius
Agrippa, on the Sacred Mount, some five hun-
dred years later. So do all things go back to
Mother Egypt.
Very characteristic of that land of monuments
is the proverb, "Do not build your tomb higher
than your betters." But of quite universal apt-
ness and application is the saying, "Go not walking
with a fool." There is a deeper note in such an
admonition as this: "If thou art an intelligent
man, bring up thy son in the love of God. If he
is courageous and active, reward him. But if he
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HUMOR IN THE DAYS OF THE PHARAOHS
is a fool, turn not thy heart against him." And
in somewhat the same vein of serious piety is
this, "If, after having been humble, thou hast
grown powerful, the first man of thy city in
wealth, let not riches make thee arrogant, for
the prime author of thy good things is God."
We can see a certain present application of the
saying: "The hunter who goeth forth into a strange
land bequeaths his goods to his children. He
fears lions and barbarous men." And we might
almost believe that there was deliberate intent,
and allusion to our time, in the excellent tale of
The Insurgent of Joppa and Pharaoh's Big Stick.
There was once, says the tale, in the time of
the Pharaoh Men-kheper-ra, a revolt of the ser-
vants of his Majesty who were in Joppa, and his
Majesty said, "Let Tahutia go with his footmen
and destroy these wicked Insurgents."
And Pharaoh called one of his servants, and said,
"Hide thou my Big Stick which worketh wonders
in the baggage of Tahutia, that my power may go
with him."
Now when Tahutia came nigh to Joppa, with
all the footmen of Pharaoh, he sent to the chief
Insurgent of Joppa, and said, "Behold, his
Majesty King Men-kheper-ra has sent this
great army against thee; but what is that if my
heart is as thy heart? Do thou come, and let
us talk in the field, and see each other face to
face."
So Tahutia, with certain of his men, met
with the chief Insurgent of Joppa, and they
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WHY THE WORLD LAUGHS
spoke with one another in the great tent. But
Tahutia had made ready two hundred sacks with
cords and fetters and had hid them in his tent.
Then said the chief Insurgent of Joppa: "My
heart is set on examining the Big Stick of Men-
kheper-ra. By the soul of Pharaoh, let it be in
my hands this day! Do thou well, and bring
it to me!"
And Tahutia, the general of Pharaoh, did
so, and brought the Big Stick of King Men-
kheper-ra, and he laid hold on the garment of
the Insurgent of Joppa, and he arose and stood
up, and Tahutia said, "0 Insurgent of Joppa, here
is the Big Stick of Pharaoh, that terrible lion to
whom Amen his father has given power and
strength!"
And as the Insurgent of Joppa bent forward
to touch the Big Stick, Tahutia raised it on
high and struck the Insurgent of Joppa upon
the poll, so that he fell helpless before him. And
Tahutia put him in a sack, with gyves on his
hands and fetters on his feet. The tale goes on
to tell how Tahutia, by strategy, smuggled two
hundred of his best men into Joppa done up in
sacks and labeled " Baggage," and how they
seized the city, so that Joppa fell; but what be-
came of the Insurgent in the sack and the Big
Stick of Pharaoh the chronicler sayeth not.
There is another quaint little tale, of the
Doomed Prince, which has elements both of humor
and of pathos. It is obviously a fairy-tale rather
than a veritable history. The tale relates that,
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HUMOR IN THE DAYS OF THE PHARAOHS
on the birth of a certain prince of Egypt, the
Seven Hathors, declarers of destiny, announced
that the prince was fated to perish through three
things a crocodile, a serpent, and a dog. So the
king sent the prince away to a desert place, to
be brought up under ward and watch, so that his
three dooms might not come nigh him.
One day, being well grown, the prince was on the
house-top when he saw a man walking, with a dog
trotting after him. And the heart of the prince
moved in sympathy, and he cried out that he, too,
wanted a playmate like that. So his Majesty
said, "Let there be brought to him a little pet
dog, lest his heart be sad!" And it was so, and
the prince grew, and the dog grew with him.
Then, after many days, the heart of the prince
grew restless, and he said, "Inasmuch as I am
fated to three evil fates, let me follow my desire;
let God do to me what is in His heart!"
So he went forth, taking his dog with him, and
betook him northward across the desert, and his
little dog went with him. And they came to the
land of the chief of Naharaina. There was there
a tower seventy cubits high and with seventy
windows, and in the topmost chamber of this
tower the chief of Naharaina had put his daughter,
and had made proclamation that whoever of the
princes should climb to her window should have
her hand in marriage. So they all clomb, but none
could reach her window.
But the Doomed Prince, seeing them climbing,
asked what it might mean, and when they had
9 119
WHY THE WORLD LAUGHS
answered, he too clomb, and in due time reached
the window of the princess. And her heart went
out to him utterly, and was as water within her
breast. But the chief of Naharaina was wroth,
and would not give her to a wanderer.
But the maiden made answer, "By the being
of Ra, and thou give him not to me, I will
straightway die!"
So he gave her to him, and her heart was well
content. And as he was sleeping one day, there
came the first of his dooms, a poisonous serpent,
and would have bitten him. But the princess,
his spouse, brought a bowl of milk and set it
before the serpent ; and when it was filled with milk
and turned over, she smote it with a dagger, so
the first doom was stayed. Then came a great
crocodile and pursued him, but a strong man of
the city bound it, and so the second doom was
stayed. But one day the prince went out to
walk, taking his little dog with him and there
the papyrus is broken, so that we shall never know,
perchance, how it befell with the pup, and how the
doom descended upon them.
There are many tales of the magicians of Egypt,
like Jannes and Jambres, who withstood Moses,
and of their contests with the evil magicians of
Ethiopia, the land of darkness. One of these
relates that there was once a powerful magician
of Ethiopia who molded of wax a litter and
four bearers, and said charms over them so that
they came to life. Then he sent them down the
Nile to Memphis, and they kidnapped Pharaoh
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HUMOR IN THE DAYS OF THE PHARAOHS
and brought him to the magician of Ethiopia.
The magician gave him five hundred blows of a
cudgel and sent him home again. Then Horus,
the magician of Egypt, with whom was the magic
book of Thoth, wrought a more potent charm, and
kidnapped the magician of Ethiopia, and gave him
a thousand blows. So the heart of Pharaoh was
glad, and he rewarded Horus the magician, and
they bound over the magician of Ethiopia to keep
the peace for two hundred years.
But the most serious effort in humorous tales of
magic is one most venerable, which goes back to
the time before the great pyramid was built,
and is, indeed, concerned with that Pharaoh
whom the Greeks later called Cheops, who built
the pyramid. One day, says the tale, when King
Khufu reigned over all the land of Egypt, over the
Upper Land and over the Delta, he said to his
minister who stood before him, "Go, call my sons
and my councilors, that I may ask of them a
certain thing !" And the sons and councilors
of King Khufu stood before him, and he said to
them, "Know ye a man who can tell me tales of
the deeds of the magicians?"
Then the royal son Khafra stood forth, the same
whom the Greeks were to call Cephren, who later
built the second pyramid, and he spoke to King
Khufu, saying, "I will relate to thy Majesty
a tale of thy forefather Nebka the blessed; and of
what came to pass when he went into the temple
of Ptah of Ankhtaul."
Then the prince narrated how his Majesty
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WHY THE WORLD LAUGHS
Nebka was walking in the temple of Ptah and
how he went into the house of Uba-aner, the
chief reciter of magic charms, with his train
of servants. And it befell that the wife of the
chief reciter Uba-aner looked upon one of the
pages who stood behind the king, and her heart
went out to him. So she sent for the page at a
convenient hour, and they caroused together in
the garden-house. But Uba-aner, chief reciter
of charms, knew it, and he made a crocodile of
wax, and breathed upon it, and it became alive
and grew to seven cubits in length, and came
forth upon that carousing page, and carried him
off to a deep lake in the garden, and he was seen
no more. But Uba-aner burned up his faithless
spouse with fire, and strewed her ashes upon the
lake.
His Majesty Khufu, the King of Upper and
Lower Egypt, then said, "Let offering be made to
King Nebka the blessed namely, a thousand
loaves and a hundred draughts of beer, an ox and
two jars of incense; and let an offering be made to
the chief reciter Uba-aner namely, a loaf, a draught
of beer, a jar of incense, and a piece of meat. For
I have seen the token of his learning." And they
did all things as his Majesty Khufu commanded.
Then the royal son Bau-f-ra stood forth and
spake, saying, "I will tell thy Majesty of a
wonder which came to pass in the days of thy
father Senefru the blessed, and of the deeds of the
chief reciter of charms, Zazamankh. One day,
O King! thy father King Senefru, being weary,
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HUMOR IN THE DAYS OF THE PHARAOHS
went throughout his palace seeking for a pleasure
to lighten his heart, but he found none. And he
said, ' Haste and bring before me the chief reciter
of charms, the scribe of the rolls, Zazamankh.'
And they straightway brought him, and the king
said, ' I have sought in my palace for some delight,
but I have found none. 7
"Then said Zazamankh to him, 'Let thy
Majesty go upon the lake of the palace, and let
there be made ready a boat, with fair maidens
of the palace to row, and the heart of thy
Majesty shall be glad at the sight of them, and
thou shalt be refreshed in seeing them row up
and down upon the water, and in seeing the birds
upon the lake, and beholding the sweet fields and
grassy shores. Thus will thy heart be delighted
and made glad!'
"So they brought a boat, with twenty oars of
ebony inlaid with gold, and twenty maidens fair
of form to row it, and all was done according to
his Majesty's commands.
"They rowed down the stream and up the
stream, and the heart of his Majesty was glad at
the sight of their rowing. But one of the maidens
at the steering oar struck her hair with the end of
the oar, so that her jewel of new malachite fell
into the water. So she ceased her song, and rowed
not. And her companions likewise ceased, and
rowed not. Then his Majesty Senefru said:
"'Row you not farther?'
"And they answered, 'Our little steerer here
steers no longer; therefore we row not!'
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WHY THE WORLD LAUGHS
"So his Majesty said, ' Wherefore rowest thou
not?'
"And she replied, ' Because of my jewel of new
malachite, which is fallen in the water! 7
"And his Majesty said, 'Row on, for behold, I
will replace it.'
"But she answered, 'I want my own jewel back
again!'
"His Majesty sought to persuade her, saying
he would make it good for her, but she was firm
and would not. So Zazamankh, chief reciter of
charms, stood up, and spake a mighty charm from
the book of Thoth, and behold! the waters of the
lake were divided in two, and one half lay on
the other half, so that what was before twelve
cubits deep was now four and twenty cubits, and
the other half of the lake was dry. And behold!
they found the jewel of malachite lying in a shell,
and the maid got it back again, and her heart
was glad. And the heart of his Majesty Senefru
was glad also. So the reciter spake a reverse
charm, and the waters came back again into place,
and all was well."
When his Majesty Khufu had commended the
tale and bade make offering for King Senefru
and for Zazamankh the reciter, the royal son
Hordedef stood forth and spake, "0 King, and
my most august father! Hitherto hast thou
heard only tales of those who have gone before
and of which no man knoweth the truth. But
I will show thy Majesty a man of thy own
days."
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HUMOR IN THE DAYS OF THE PHARAOHS
And his Majesty Khufu said, "Who is he, O
my son Hordedef?"
And the royal son Hordedef answered, "It is a
certain man named Dedi, who dwells at Dedsne-
feru. He is a man one hundred and ten years
old, and he eats each day five hundred loaves
of bread and a side of beef, and drinks each day
a hundred draughts of beer, even unto this day.
He knows how to restore the head that is smitten
off; he knows how to make the roaring lion follow
him; he knows the designs of the dwelling of
Thoth. The Majesty of the King of Upper and
Lower Egypt, Khufu the blessed, has long sought
for the designs of the dwelling of Thoth, that he
may make the like of them in his pyra-
mid I"
And his Majesty the King said, "Let him be
brought!"
Then were ships made ready, and they went up
the Nile to Dedsneferu, bearing the prince Hor-
dedef; and the ships were moored by the bank of
the Nile, and Hordedef went forth, borne in a
litter of ebony, whose pole was of cedar wood
inlaid with gold, and he drew near to Dedi, the
magician. Leaving the litter, Hordedef went forth
to greet Dedi, and found him lying on a couch
of palm wood at the door of his house; one ser-
vant held his head and rubbed him, and another
rubbed his feet, for he was very old. So the king's
son persuaded him, and brought him in his ships
to Khufu' s royal palace.
And his Majesty asked him whether he could
125
WHY THE WORLD LAUGHS
indeed unite the head that was severed from the
body, and he said, "Even so, O King!' 7
So King Khufu would have had a slave brought
and beheaded, but Dedi said that it was not
right to deal thus with a man. So they brought
instead a duck. And they cut its head off, and
laid the head at one side of the palace and the
body at the other side. And Dedi spake a charm
of great potency and might, and the head and
the body waggled toward each other and came
together, fitting well. And the duck shook its
head and quacked right pleasantly, and the
King was glad and commended Dedi.
They did likewise with a goose and with a
bullock; and the bullock came together again
and went to Dedi, trailing his halter behind
him.
So King Khufu commanded that Dedi be re-
warded; and they gave him a thousand loaves
and a thousand sides of meat and a thousand
measures of beer and a hundred bunches of
onions. And Dedi consumed them, and his
heart was glad.
IX
THE HUMOR OF THE OLD TURKS
ONE of the quaintest and most amusing tales I
have read in many a day, I have just found in
a delightful little old leather-bound volume of
Turkish stories; a volume, indeed, so old that
its leaves are brown with many autumns, while on
an extra page at the end the publisher announces
an edition of the works of "the late famous Mr.
John Dryden," in four folio volumes, as well as
a new poem by Mr. Addison dedicated to "her
Grace the Dutchess of Marlborough," entitled
" The Campaign." The author of this little book
is at great pains to assure us that it is authentically
Turkish, and not the bare invention of some
Frenchman; since it was written by his tutor for
the young Amurath, whose son Mohammed
conquered Constantinople and turned Saint Sophia
into a Moslem mosque. The good tutor's pur-
pose was edification; and, more specifically, he
sought to arm the young Amurath against woman-
kind, to whom he already perceived the prince
too much addicted. It is no wonder, therefore,
that the good tutor chose one of those plots of the
immemorial East which opens the way for all
127
WHY THE WORLD LAUGHS
the pros and cons of the wicked sex; a plot wherein
the Sultan's seventh wife falls in love with the
young prince her stepson and mirthfully proposes
to him to murder the old man and reign in his
stead, always, be it understood, with the help and
close companionship of the lady. This is, indeed,
matter to instruct the too addicted Amurath; and
the occasion is improved by the recital, on the
part of the lady and of the viziers, of many
sententious stories showing the high virtue or
else the utter depravity of womankind. I forget
which party tells the tale that particularly struck
my fancy, but here it is.
It seems that one of the Sultans was gathering
taxes from his Christian provinces, and that a
clever monk, anticipating our own malefactors of
great wealth, declared that he had thought out a
way to swear off the tax, and begged the Christians
to send him to the Sultan. Which they accor-
dingly did. When the monk came to the mon-
arch, he made him a profound obeisance, and
said:
" Sir, we consent to pay your tax, on condition
that your Majesty, your viziers, or your doctors
will answer one question which I shall propose;
but if none answer it, I entreat that you will not
be displeased that I return without paying it."
Replied the Sultan:
" I am content. I have very learned men in
my court, and your question must be very diffi-
cult if none of them can answer it."
The king, after having summoned all his
128
THE HUMOR OF THE OLD TURKS
viziers and doctors, said to the monk: " Christian,
what is thy question?"
The monk then, opening the five fingers of his
right hand, showed its palm; and then, inclining
his fingers to the ground, "Tell me," says he,
"what this signifies. That is my question."
"As for me," saith the king, "I quit all thoughts
of it, and own that I can't guess at it; and to
speak freely, it doth not seem easy to be an-
swered."
The thoughts of all the viziers and doctors
were employed with utmost intention; but,
though they had recollected the substance of the
Commentaries of the Alkoran as well as the
traditions of Mohammed, they could not answer
the monk. They all continued shamefully silent,
when at last one among them, enraged to see so
many great men confounded by an infidel, stepped
forward and said to the king:
" Sir, it was needless to summon so many per-
sons for such a mean trifle; let the monk propose
his question to me, and I will answer it."
The monk at the same time showed his open
hand with his finger tending upward to the Mo-
hammedan doctor, who showed him his right hand
closed; the monk then turned his fingers down-
ward, and the doctor opened his hand and turned
his fingers upward. The monk, satisfied with the
gestures of the Mussulman doctor, drew from
under his robe the purse in which was the trib-
ute, gave it to the king, and retired.
The monarch was curious to know of the
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WHY THE WORLD LAUGHS
doctor what all these actions of the hand sig-
nified.
" O King," answered the doctor, "when the monk
showed his hand open it was to signify these
words: ' I will give you a slap on the face/ I
then immediately shut my hand, to give him to un-
derstand that if he struck me I would give him a
blow with my fist. He then lowered his hand and
turned the ends of his fingers downward, to express
these words : ' Well, if you strike me with your fist,
I will lay you at my feet and tread upon you like
a worm/ I then instantly turned the ends of my
fingers up, to answer him that if he used me thus,
I would throw him up so high that the birds
should eat him before he fell to the ground. And
it was by this means," continued he, "that the
Christian and I perfectly understood each other."
The doctor had scarce left speaking when an
approving hum arose in the assembly, very much
to his applause. All the viziers admired his
penetration; and all the doctors, though soured
at their own inability to explain the monk's
gestures, owned aloud that their brother was more
able than themselves. But the king, more charmed
than the rest, could not recover his surprise;
he looked upon the doctor as a very extraordinary
person, and did not content himself with be-
stowing large praises upon him, but, opening the
purse which the monk had presented to him, he
took out five hundred sequins and clapped them
into his hands, saying:
"Take them, Doctor. Since you are the cause
130
THE HUMOR OF THE OLD TURKS
of the Christians paying me this tax, it is just that
you should be sensible of my gratitude."
After this the king, wholly taken up with his
adventure, went to the queen his wife, and told
her of it. That lady, who abounded with good
sense and judgment, heard the king with great
attention, but as soon as he had done, burst out
into such a laughter that she fell down on a sofa,
holding her sides.
"I find," says the king, "the story very much
diverts you."
"What is most comical in it," replies the queen,
"is that you are your doctor's bubble."
"What you tell me, madam, is impossible,"
replied the monarch.
"My lord," returned the lady, "send im-
mediately for the monk. I say no more."
The king instantly sent his officers to search
whether he was yet in the city, and he was found
just ready to return home. He was brought
to the king and queen.
"Christian," said the lady, "our doctor hath
discovered the sense of your riddle, but we desire
that you would yourself expound it."
"O Queen," said the monk, "when I showed
my five fingers opened, I meant these words:
'I ask you, Mussulmans, whether those five prayers
which you make are appointed by the order of
God? 7 Then your doctor showed me his fist to
express that they were, and he was ready to main-
tain the assertion. I then, by turning my fingers
to the ground, asked him, 'Wherefore doth the
131
WHY THE WORLD LAUGHS
rain fall upon the earth?' To which he answered,
very judiciously, but turning his fingers upward,
that it rained to draw up the grass and make all
plants grow. And this answer is in your books."
The monk, after this explication, being gone,
the queen renewed her excessive laughter; and
the king, convinced that she was not in the
wrong, protested that for the future he would
always distrust his doctors and never suffer
himself to be bubbled by their false merit.
So far, the reflection of the king; but I have a
feeling that I should like to see a game of draw-
poker between the monk who originally thought
up that artful scheme to swear off his taxes, the
doctor who bluffed him into paying them, and
the lady queen who called the bluff. Hardly less
quaint than the tale itself is the use of the word
" bubble " for a swindle or a dupe; but those were
the days of the South Sea Scheme and the Missis-
sippi Company, both of which proved themselves
to be " bubbles, 77 in the swindling sense. I have
a notion that the word might be revived and sent
down to Wall Street.
That tale is not genuinely Turkish, even
though it comes out of a book of Turkish tales;
it is rather Arabic or Persian in flavor. It lacks
the characteristic tang of the Ottomans, for a
genuine Turkish jest, like the philosophizing of
the late David Harum, must have something
about horse in it; otherwise it is counterfeit. For
it was as a tribe of horsemen that the Turks first
galloped into history; and their coming was some-
132
THE HUMOR OF THE OLD TURKS
thing of a jest. It happened that one of the princes
of Asia Minor, who rejoiced in the title of Aladdin
Kaikobad, was warring against invading Mongols,
and was getting the worst of the encounter. A
band of Turkish tribesmen on their steeds were
passing that way, and stopped to watch the pretty
fight. Then, seeing that one side was getting
licked, they promptly pitched in and fought for
them without the least knowing who they or
then: opponents might be. They fought so well
for their unknown friends that the Mongols were
driven off the field, and Kaikobad, in ill-advised
gratitude, granted to the Turkish leader a princi-
pality, with the pasturages of Mount Tumani
for his herds. That settled it. The Turks, once
they had gained a footing, never rested till they
had won the empire of the East and pushed their
armies up the Danube to Vienna. Even the
method of their conquest had something of humor
in it, for, to fight the Christians, they formed a
regiment of youths, kidnapped as children from
Christian homes, and " turned Turk," before
they were wise enough to know better. These
were the first of the famous Janizaries, whose
name was once a terror to all Christendom.
There was something humorous if, indeed, the
jest was not too grim to be called humor in that
dispute of the Sultan Mohammed the Second with
the graceful Italian painter, Gentile Bellini.
The artist had depicted a dissevered head, prob-
ably that which Salome carried on a dish; and
the Sultan said the muscles of the neck were all
133
WHY THE WORLD LAUGHS
wrong, and that a dissevered head should' not
have a neck. I suppose the picture, like the
head on the " Mikado," was standing on its
neck and so outraged the Sultan's sense of artistic
verisimilitude. At any rate, the Sultan picked
out a slave with an attractive neck, and had him
beheaded on the spot. Then he turned with a
winning smile to Gentile Bellini and said, "I
told you so!" Which things happened some
twenty-five or thirty years after the fall of Con-
stantinople.
But your true Turkish joke, as I said, must
have something about horse in it. Indeed, there
are countless wise and witty saws that turn on
horses, and they are one of the most characteristic
things in Ottoman literature. Take, for instance,
this, " Place no trust in horse or woman." Or
this, "Tend your horse as a friend; mount him
as an enemy." Very graphic is this symbolism
for misfortune, "He has dismounted from his
horse and mounted a donkey." And somewhat
in the same vein, though more sardonic, is the
saying, "For him who has fallen from a horse,
medicine; for him who has fallen from a camel, a
pickax and spade"; meaning that he is a case, not
for the surgeon, but for the undertaker. To ex-
press the contrast between things temporal and
things eternal the Turks say, "The horse dies, the
race-course remains." And to depict the complete
incongruity and perversity of things they have
this proverb, "The horse is here, but there is no
race-course; the race-course is here, but there is no
134
THE HUMOR OF THE OLD TURKS
horse." Perhaps the little word-picture which
follows might be adapted to our own . political
needs; at any rate here it is, "The horse kicks,
the mule kicks, in the space between them the
donkey is killed." It is said that the proverbs
about looking the gift-horse in the mouth and
shutting the stable-door after the steed is stolen
are both originally Turkish; so also is this sug-
gestion, "A wolf on horseback," taking the place
of the proverbial beggar. There is a fine martial
Ottoman ring about the saying, "The sword is
for him who wears it, the bridge for him who
crosses it, the horse for him who mounts it." And
there is a touch of pathetic allusion to the old
order so swiftly vanishing in Turkey in the
proverb, "A dying thoroughbred is better than
a living donkey." By amending the resolution,
substituting the word "elephant" for the word
" thoroughbred," this might, perhaps, be made
available for some of our stalwart standpat-
ters.
There are other good Turkish proverbs besides
these horsy ones. We all know that pretty and
wise French saying, "On ne badine pas avec
V amour"; or its variant, "Man is flax, woman
is fire, the devil comes and blows." These two are
thus blended by the Turk, "Cotton cannot play
with fire." Very quaint, too, is the saying, "A
hungry dog has no hydrophobia." Of a youth
lacking experience they say, "He needs the
bread of nine ovens to make him a man." This
for a talkative man, "His mouth has stretched
10 135
WHY THE WORLD LAUGHS
to his ears"; and for a lucky man, "He opens his
mouth, and a pear falls into it." Of one who
meekly suffers wrong, they say, "Even if they
take the bread from his mouth, no sound escapes."
Perhaps a recent conference of dark-complected
business men might adopt this Turkish saying as
their motto, "Regard not the black face of the
man who is white as to his money." For their
savings department they might add this, "White
coin for a black day." There is a quaint saying,
"The name is white, the taste is black." Which
reminds me of the charmingly poetical Turkish
way of expressing "the morning after the night
before": "From the night's rejoicing comes the
morning's sorrow." For our malefactors of great
wealth I offer the following: "Even the moun-
tains fear the rich man," and "The face of money
is warm." Instead of saying "A word to the wise
is enough," your Ottoman says, more poetically,
v "To the understanding man the voice of the
mosquito is an orchestra." This might well be
adopted as the device of the State west of the
Hudson. Again, for the wicked rich, "The knife
cuts not the hand of gold"; and this expression for
an unsuccessful business man, "He bought, he
sold, he is drowned." In the case of an American,
we should have to add, "He is resuscitated, and
starts in again." Here is a Turkish prototype of
a joke which recently went the rounds of our comic
papers, "Look at the mother, take the daughter."
For a gentleman who has been to headquarters
and need no longer square the ward politician,
136
THE HUMOR OF THE OLD TURKS
they say, "He has seen the moon, and is under
no obligation to the stars."
Here is a fine device for one of our savings banks
(perhaps it is not too late to embody it in the
Postal Savings Banks Law) :
They said to the little, "Whither goest thou?"
"To the side of the much!" it replied.
That, by the way, has a scriptural flavor; and
there is a like suggestion in this expression of the
impossible: "He views Hindustan through the
eye of a needle." Even closer is the saying of like
import, "A camel's head does not pass through the
eye of a needle" drawn, very likely, from the im-
memorial life of the desert. Another horse saying,
by the way, is this, and one cannot fail to be struck
by its wit and wisdom: "A fall from a donkey
hurts more than a fall from a horse." Concerning
the humbler animal there is also this, "Tie up
your donkey; do not make your neighbor a thief."
Rudyard Kipling might have found the motive
for one of his songs in this Turkish saying, "If I
mourn, my mother mourns ; the rest mourn falsely."
Distinctly to be reprobated, as an incitement to
agitation, is the proverb, "They give the breast
only when the infants yell." In a graver mood, if
anything can be more serious than a howling infant,
is their way of expressing the inexorable justice
of the Most High: "Allah does not take at eight
what he gave at nine." And I like the fine and
primal philosophy of the saying, "You cannot
argue with God."
There is another horse story, with an amusing
137
WHY THE WORLD LAUGHS
termination, which concerns a certain man who,
for his extreme veracity, was named the Truthful;
the Sultan, recognizing, perhaps, where inveracity
is most rife, promptly made him master of the
horse and loaded him with many honors and
gorgeous robes. This suggests, by the way, that
one would like to have a contract to supply ap-
propriate and expressive robes of honor for some
of our own great men, which, after Oriental custom,
they should wear when they went abroad through
the streets. But to return to Truthful. All the
other personages at court, who, one infers, had
been in the habit of selling horses to the royal
stables, naturally hated him yet the more and
lay in wait for to destroy him. But Truthful
was one of those of whom it is said, "He opens his
mouth, and a fruit falls into it." He escaped all
snares. At last the fair and subtle daughter
of the Grand Vizier took the matter in hand, and,
promising her father that she would bring the
honest one to destruction, bade her slave-girls
adorn her in rich apparel. This done, she set
forth in the dim hours of night, and, coming to
the pavilion where Truthful dwelt, she found
admittance to his presence. Thereupon, with
languishing eyes, and here, by the way, the
good Turkish historian does himself and the lady
justice; but I must content myself by sum-
marizing. Suffice it that the lady said that the
price of her heart was nothing less than a stew
made of the heart of the Sultan's favorite black
steed. Protestations from Truthful. Tears from
138
THE HUMOR OF THE OLD TURKS
Zobeide. Result: Horse-heart stew for two,
served within the hour.
The morning, as the proverb says, brought sor-
row. Truthful, torn with remorse for the coal-
black steed, debated with his conscience whether
he might tell the Sultan that he had found the
horse sick and had killed it to save its life. But
when he came before his lord, the natural honesty
of him triumphed, and with tears and lamentations
he told the truth, and bade the Sultan order in
the executioner and behead him.
But the Sultan was a kind old person with a
pretty wit, so he said, "Call the lady."
When he had seen her, he chuckled deeply in
his throat and said, "You were perfectly right.
v If I had been in your place, I would have cooked
the whole stable for her. My favor is restored,
and more is added to it."
X
AN OTTOMAN LEAP-YEAR GIRL
WHY should a lady's love-making be an irre-
sistibly comic theme, vying in popularity
among the mirth-makers with the mistaken-iden-
tity joke, which began before the pyramids and is
going still? What, indeed, could be more touch-
ing, more sentimentally attractive, than a fair
maiden who has found the mate of her heart gently
intimating to him that such is his relation to her?
Yet the comedians have taken just this theme to
poke fun at, beginning long ages before Shakes-
peare's "All's Well that Ends Well," and coming
down to the "Man and Superman" of Mr. Bernard
Shaw. It is true that, in many Oriental lands,
this motive had less vogue, because young ladies
were supposed to have less choice, to be disposed
of according to their horoscopes, or the wishes of
their parents, or, at the best, because some eligible
suitor " sought their hand in marriage." So it
was, for the most part, in classical times; and it
is not till one comes to the early legends of Ire-
land that one finds the genuine leap-year girl
who does her own proposing. Such a one is the
famed and ill-starred Deirdre, a drama about
140
AN OTTOMAN LEAP-YEAR GIRL
whom seems to be the graduation thesis of all the
poets of the Celtic Revival. So it was with
the lovely Grania, who carried her Diarmid
through the five kingdoms of Ireland, so that,
wherever they camped, one finds a cromlech,
called, to this day, a bed of Grania. So it was
with that golden-haired, not to say red-headed,
Irish lass, Isolde, who has had the greatest vogue
of them all, starring it through medieval song, and
finally conquering the Fatherland. They were
all leap-year girls, doing their own wooing and
proposing, and carrying off their somewhat re-
luctant hearts'-mates to all kinds of adventures.
Ireland may claim, indeed, to have given to
romance the maiden heroine, in contrast with
the wedded Helens and Andromaches of antiquity.
Nevertheless, if we except the Rajputs, it re-
mains true that the girl who does her own love-
making is held to be fit matter of comedy, now as
of old. In Rajputana it was always the maiden's
part to woo, and she did it charmingly, sum-
moning all the fine young princes and chieftains
when she felt herself to be in the humor for marry-
ing. They, in a flower-decked arena, did all
kinds of martial feats, disporting themselves
with sword and steed and bow, while the lady
watched them from a garland-encircled booth.
Then came the march past, and as the elect of
her heart passed before the lady, she swung a
great wreath of scented flowers around his shoul-
ders and carried him off a captive to her love.
That would be a fine custom to introduce, now
141
WHY THE WORLD LAUGHS
that we are running so deeply in debt to Oriental
thought, at the same time that we are advancing
in the great movement of emancipation. It
would make far prettier play than Bernard
Shaw's comedy, and would be just as practical in
the end.
These reflections anent maidens' choosing are
inspired by a very delightful little comedy I have
come across, whose author was, some fifty years
ago, one of the lights of literary Islam. He has
set his plot on the far side of the frosty Caucasus,
where meet the realms of Turkey and Persia and
the Tsar; and he filled his scenes with gorgeously
picturesque rascals of the mountains, be they
Ottomans or wily Armenians or Georgians of
ancient race and princely names. Fine people
and excellent matter of comedy, they are as strange
to us as their names sound outlandish. The
manner in which the good author sets his play a-
going is charming, sly, and naive at the same time.
He presents to us his hero, a fine young Turk,
rejoicing in the name of Haider Bey, who calls his
Creator to witness that the age is degenerate
and the times are out of joint, because a likely
young man can no longer make an honorable living
in the good old way. No more gallant riding, no
more shooting; time was, when not a week
passed but there was a caravan to plunder, a
camp to overhaul. What has become of the
fights with the Kizil-bashes and the Ottomans,
that used to silver and gild the hillsides of Kara-
bagh?
142
AN OTTOMAN LEAP-YEAR GIRL
Just the other day the commandant of the town
had summoned him, and said:
" Haider Bey, you must be good! No more
brigandage, no more holding-up of travelers, no
more robberies!' 7
To which our young hero sadly made answer :
" Commandant, we approve your decision; but
how are we to make a living?' 7
And, imagine it, he said:
" Haider Bey, sow seed in the earth, till your
garden, go into trade!"
Just as if our hero had been an Armenian, to
plow and reap, or a rearer of silk-worms or a
village peddler!
To him Haider Bey made answer:
" Commandant, who ever heard of a young
brave guiding a plow or tilling the soil? My
father, Kurban Bey, never did; I, his son, will
not do it either!"
But the commandant only frowned, and passed
on. Were ever such degenerate days? To his
gentlemanly young friends, who gather round
him, Haider Bey makes this lament. And there
is worse behind it, for, it seems, he has exchanged
hearts with a fair Turkish maiden, Sona Hanum
by name, and he can neither pay the needed dower
money to her parents nor safely carry her off, for
fear of their complaints. So what, under the cir-
cumstances, can a gallant young gentleman do?
How would it sound to have folk say:
"Kurban Bey's son had not the money to marry
on, so he ran away with his girl!"
143
WHY THE WORLD LAUGHS
Could heart of man endure it? And, to add the
final sting, did not some of his gentlemanly young
companions, to whom he alleged these reasons,
even suggest that he was afraid? So young Haider
had well nigh made up his mind to carry the maiden
off, cost what it might. But young Asker Bey
pleaded with him for prudence. Give him a
couple of weeks, he said, and he would find the
money for a proper wedding, with all due cere-
mony and style, such as befitted the son of Kurban
Bey. So they worked out a perfectly peaceable
and lawful scheme. They would borrow money
from the rich merchant, Hadji Kara, go across
the frontier, buy goods, run the gauntlet of the
custom-house, and sell the goods again at home,
at a tremendous gain.
So far so good. But Haider Bey has to inform
his fair young lady-love of the plan about to be
adventured in her behoof, and the Turkish dra-
matist rises to the occasion in a charming scene.
He shows us an Oriental tent, shrouded in the
shadows of evening, near which, concealed behind
the bushes, is the sweet maiden Sona Hanum.
She is, it seems, very much in earnest, for she
wears a charming traveling costume under her
wide silk shawl, and is walking up and down im-
patiently or stopping to look for her expected
lover.
"O Allah, be kind to us!' 7 she cries and it is
curious that all young persons about to run away
seem to count on the sympathies of Allah "what
can have happened to him? Half the night is
144
AN OTTOMAN LEAP-YEAR GIRL
gone, and he has not come. Dawn is almost
breaking, morning is nigh; and I know not what
to do. I can only wait a little while longer; then,
if he does not come, I must go back to the tent!"
All of which shows a substantial unity in the
young feminine heart without regard to race or
clime. Walking restlessly a few paces, Miss
Sona continues:
"No, he is not come. It is certain that he is
not coming. He has probably met some crazy
fellow who has taken him off on a horse-stealing
expedition. Or perhaps he has been detained.
I cannot break my promise to him. If our plan
has been discovered, he will have to flee again;
what a sad day that will be for me! I shall be
kept a prisoner at home for two years more. By
Allah, I will not wait for him any longer! Marry
some one else. He means to let me wither in my
father's house."
She stops; then, a moment later, begins again:
"What a wicked thought was that ! Suppose he
had overheard me saying, ' Marry some one else '?
and if he had believed it? No, he could not
believe it. He would know I was only telling
stories. I am sure he is coming!"
And she was quite right; for young Haider
forthwith arrived on horseback, a right gallant
cavalier, and swung himself out of the saddle,
calling her :
"SonaHanum!"
To which the maiden answered: "Haider? It
is thou?"
145
WHY THE WORLD LAUGHS
Haider admitted that it was, indeed, he, where-
upon Sona Hanum assured herself that he was
alone. Thus assured, she began to reproach
him:
"Why hast thou come alone? My father and
my brothers are sleeping in the tent; you are late
in coming, and morning is at hand; when they do
not find me, my father and my brothers will under-
stand all, they will pursue me, they will follow the
footsteps of thy horse, and will tear me from
thee, so that I shall see thee never more until
the day of the resurrection!"
To which Haider Bey replies, reassuring her,
that she need fear nothing, for he is not going to
carry her off. Then O inscrutable heart of
woman Sona Hanum replies:
"What? You are not going to carry me off?
What say you?"
And Haider Bey, somewhat abashed, replies that
there is a better plan in the wind, to which he bids
her listen. But Sona Hanum will have none of it.
"There is no better plan" she insists: "bring
your horse forward, and let us go at once. I can-
not go back to the tent!"
Haider, still somewhat abashed, insists that he
is in earnest. Sona Hanum seeks promptly to
prove that so is she; seizing his bridle, she says:
"I will not listen! Come, give me your stirrup.
You will tell me all as we are going!"
But Haider remains prudent. "My dear,"
he begs, "be not impatient. Listen to me.
This is what I have to say ..."
146
AN OTTOMAN LEAP-YEAR GIRL
But Sona Hanum impatiently answers : t i Dawn
is at hand; this is no time for delay. You can
tell me the whole story afterward !"
Haider, still holding her by the arm, continues
to expostulate.
"My dear," he says, "I have found the money.
I shall marry you in seemly and formal style.
Why, then, should we run away, when no one can
take you away from me?"
To which Sona Hanum answers briefly and to
the point:
"Thou liest! If the money were forthcoming,
it might have come any time these two years past.
I don't want to be married in formal style. I
want to run away. And I won't be the first to
do it, either! Every day a hundred maidens
run away in just this fashion. Where is the harm?"
All of which, though very subversive, shows a
distinct modernity, unless indeed, we are face to
face with the most ancient institution in the
world.
But Haider continues to reason with her. "My
dear," he says, "the girls who get themselves
carried off are those whom their fathers and
mothers refuse to give in marriage; so there is
nothing for it but to run away. But your father
and mother have given you to me. Would they
not say, ' Shame on thee! What hast thou done?
Thou hast dishonored us!' What could I answer
to that?"
Sona Hanum reflects for a while, and then asks:
"Where did you get the money?"
147
WHY THE WORLD LAUGHS
Haider sees that he has gained a point. "Stay
here," he says, "and I will tell you all about it!' 7
And Sona, staying for the moment, bids him
speak. He begins, in explanatory vein, by re-
minding her of the big profits that can be made on
smuggled goods. But she at once takes him up :
"What have you to do with smuggled goods?
You are no trader. Tell me, how much money
did you get?"
Heider Bey continues to explain. "Listen to
what I have to tell you. Russia has forbidden
the export of muslins made in Europe, and no one
dares to go after them. But a brave man, who
had the energy, might go after them and get a
few bales."
To which Sona Hanum, who is evidently unwill-
ing to renounce the fine adventure of being car-
ried off, makes skeptical reply: "My friend, what
does it matter that Russia has forbidden the
export of European stuffs? If Allah would only
forbid people to wear them altogether! Come,
tell me who gave you the money."
Haider Bey tries once more to straighten matters
out in a persuasive way. "My dear, you do not
give me a chance to finish what I have to say.
People here are so eager for European muslins
that as soon as they have a chance to get them
they turn up their noses at silk. Asker Bey says
that they are cheap and lovely. The colors are
fixed, and all the women are so crazy for them
that they won't look at Russian stuffs."
But Sona Hanum interrupts again. "What
148
AN OTTOMAN LEAP-YEAR GIRL
have you to do with European muslins? The devil
take them! Tell me what you have to tell!"
Haider tries again. "They even say that the
commandant's wife, unbeknown to her husband,
always wears European stuffs. Hadi Aziz has
recently sold her twenty tomans' worth."
"Let him sell them to the devil's wife!" says the
sweet Turkish maiden, who is evidently losing her
temper. "Let him sell them for grave-clothes! I
can't imagine how this muslin plan got into your
head. Haider, you are quite crazy. What are
you talking about?"
All of which sheds light on the difficulties in
the way of the Young Turk movement of later
years.
Haider, still keeping an admirable control,
replies to her sally: "All the same, have you not
heard how eagerly the European muslins are
sought after?"
"What has that to do with me?" answers
Sona. "I am not a trader in European muslins!"
"Very true," says the sturdy Haider; "but listen.
I shall make a trip, I shall get several bales of
European muslins, I shall bring them to the
merchants, and I shall get twice the money needed
for our marriage."
Sona Hanum, with delicious feminine un-
reasonableness, replies: "That is all you have
found to say in all this time! Enough! Enough!
God bless us! It is my turn to tell you that a
child would have found the money long ago. One
would think that European muslins were scattered
149
WHY THE WORLD LAUGHS
broadcast and that you only had to pick them
up. Come, mount, and let us go! Morn is at
hand!"
Then Haider tries a last desperate expedient
of reasonableness. "I have the money/' he says;
"I was telling lies!"
Sona replies, quick as lightning: "If you have
the money, marry me. Why need we trouble
about European muslins?"
Haider temporizes. "I was able at last to
borrow it," he says, "but on condition that I
should go after the bales of European muslin.
Half the profit will be mine, and then I will marry
you."
Sona at last seems to admit that the plan is
practicable. But Haider's difficulties are by no
means ended, for she continues:
"I don't want to get married through any such
scheme! Mount, and let us flee! If there is so
much profit in European stuffs, why should the
merchant who is lending you the money share the
profits with you? What is to hinder his going
himself to get the stuffs?"
Haider defends his plan bravely. "He is a
Persian, and he will go with me. Without me,
how could he cross the Aras? The Cossacks
would seize him by the hair!"
"And you," cries the fair Sona "won't the
Cossacks seize you by the hair, too?"
Haider now begins to boast. "I have been on
marauding expeditions before," he says, and we
can feel him thrusting out his chest. "I have as
150
AN OTTOMAN LEAP-YEAR GIRL
many tricks as a fox. Do you think I shall let
the Cossacks seize me by the hair?"
But Sona Hanum is not appeased. "You
say that, as you have been a marauder before, you
won't be seen or found out. But you will, and you
will have to flee and go into hiding, and it will
be two years more before you can come home
again. And now you want to go away, and leave
me in despair. No, I won't consent! Come, let
us flee! I don't want to get married."
Haider Bey temporizes once again. "Very
well; you do not want a formal marriage. But
are we to give up a good piece of business? You
don't want us to have bread to eat?"
"Allah is generous!" piously replies Sona
Hanum. "He will not let us starve!"
"How can we help starving?" asks the good,
perplexed Haider, still delightfully and chival-
rously patient. "You tell me to give up brigandage,
and you won't let me trade in smuggled goods.
Then where are we going to get bread from?"
With quite exasperating femininity Sona Hanum
harks back to her starting-point: "Dawn is break-
ing! Up, let us start! Take me away with you!
After two weeks, you shall go, if you wish, and
get your smuggled goods."
"Since you agree to that," says Haider, "stay
two weeks in your father's tent. If I do not come
for you then, you may consider me the vilest of
men."
But Sona Hanum answers: "I won't! I won't!
I am going, and now. Mount, let us flee!"
11 151
WHY THE WORLD LAUGHS
And she stamps with her pretty foot upon the
ground, just as though she were one of ourselves!
Haider pleads eloquently with her, prays that her
account of sins may be transferred to him in the
angelic ledgers, ofters to kiss her feet, and begs for
two weeks' grace, after which he will come and
marry her. To take her without a formal wedding
seems to him worse than death, and he is wholly
unwilling to incur the contempt of her good
parents. Sona, the eternal feminine, replies:
"To wait two weeks seems to me worse than
the pains of hell. I cannot wait any longer!
Up, let us go!"
She begins to weep, and says Haider does not
love her any more. Haider at last gives in,
and bids her mount; but, just as her foot is in the
stirrup, her mother comes from the tent and calls
her. Sona, with true feminine inconsistency, de-
clares that she cannot flee, now her mother has
called her, begs him to go smuggling, and promises
to wed him as soon as he returns.
Which, indeed, befalls after many blood-curdling
and portentous adventures, altogether delightful
in the telling, but too long to relate here. Suffice
it that Sona Hanum and her gallant Haider wed
and live happy ever after.
XI
THE HUMOR OF THE GREEKS
I KNOW nothing more delicious, more charmingly
humorous in all literature than that Grecian
idyl of Moschus wherein he depicts the foam-
born goddess Venus advertising for her baby
Cupid, who, it would seem, was lost, stolen, or
strayed. In her announcement of her loss, the
mother's tender infatuation for her little son
wars with the obligation of the goddess to tell
the truth, the whole truth, nothing but the truth.
As loving mother, Venus describes her baby's
curls and dimples. Then, constrained by the
word of honor of an Olympian, she warns the
finder of his bow, his barbed arrows, his dangerous
kisses. But let the lady Venus speak for herself.
"Who," she asks, "has seen Love wandering?
He is my runaway; whosoever has aught to tell
of him shall have his reward, and his prize is the
kiss of Aphrodite. The child is most notable;
thou couldst tell him among twenty together; his
skin is not white, but flame-colored, his eyes keen
and burning; an evil spirit and a sweet tongue has
he, for his speech and his tongue are at variance.
Like honey is his voice, but his heart of gall; all
153
WHY THE WORLD LAUGHS
shameless is he, and deceitful; the truth is not in
him, a wily brat, and cruel in his pastime. The
locks of his hair are lovely, but his brow is im-
pudent; and tiny are his little hands, yet far he
shoots his arrows shoots even to Acheron, and
to the King of Hades. The body of Love is naked,
but well is his spirit hidden; and, winged like a
bird, he flits and descends, now here, now there,
upon men and women, and nestles in their inmost
hearts. He hath a little bow and an arrow always
on the string; tiny is the shaft, but it carries as
high as heaven. A golden quiver on his back he
bears, and within it his bitter arrows, wherewith
full many a time he wounds even me. Cruel are
all those instruments of his, but more cruel by far
the little torch, his very own, wherewith he
lights up the Sun himself. And if thou catch
Love, bind him, and bring him, and have no pity;
and if thou see him weeping, take heed lest he
give thee the slip; and if he laugh, hale him
along. Yea, and if he wish to kiss thee, beware,
for evil is his kiss, and his lips are enchanted.
And should he say, 'Take these, I give thee in
free gift all my armory/ touch not at all his
treacherous gifts, for they all are dipped in
fire."
Yes; the description of the strayed child is
vivid and truthful. The mother -love speaks
true; but so does the goddess, with her sense of
honor. She had, indeed, suffered many things
from the arrows of the boy, as witness that time
old white-haired Homer tells of. For the Sun,
154
THE HUMOR OF THE GREEKS
being ever something of a spy, informed club-footed
Hephaestus, lawful lord of Aphrodite, that she,
fickle-hearted, was carrying on a flirtation with
Ares, of the golden armor. And Hephaestus, being
sub tie -minded and jealous withal, set a snare in
his home a net, as it were the web of a spider,
and made as though he would go to Lemnos.
Ares saw him depart, and went to Hephaestus's
dwelling to await golden Aphrodite, the foam-
born goddess whom the Romans called Venus.
And Aphrodite presently coming, Ares greeted
her. So they two, touched by the little love-god's
arrows, were caught in the web of the snare; and
the Sun, still spying on them, bade Hephaestus
come back again. He, indeed, returning swiftly,
stood at the door of his dwelling watching the
culprits struggle in the snare, and then called
aloud to all the gods to come to look at them.
They came, those lords of Olympus: Zeus, the
son of Kronos; and Poseidon, lord of the earth-
quake; and swift Hermes; and King Apollo, lord
of the silver bow. And they stood there at the
door, and laughter unquenchable arose among the
happy immortals. Presently, at the bidding
of Poseidon, the jealous Hephaestus loosed the
snare, and his captives departed, Aphrodite, the
foam -born, departing to Cyprus, where she had
her temple at leafy Paphos.
One of the gods made an epigram, saying that
the slow outstrip the swift, for slow - footed
Hephaestus had overtaken Ares, swiftest of the
immortals. Apollo laughed, and asked Hermes
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WHY THE WORLD LAUGHS
whether he, too, would be willing to be caught in a
net, for golden Aphrodite's kisses. Hermes an-
swered that he would; nay, that for her he would
brave threefold chains.
Thus, according to grandsire Homer, did the
little love -god play spiteful tricks even on his
mother; and I suppose it was some such frivolous
fancy as this that led wise Plato to ban the
whole race of poets, saying that they were very
well-springs of wickedness. But we must return
to the foam-born goddess and her advertisement
for the lost boy with the bow. I find two claim-
ants for the reward.
First is Julian, sometime prefect of Egypt, who
writes thus: "Once, while wreathing a garland,
I found Love among the roses. Laying hold of
him by the wings, I dipt him in the wine, and, tak-
ing it, I drank it. And now within my veins he
tickles me with his feathers."
Yet another claimant to have found the flame-
colored boy is Anacreon. "Once at the hour of
midnight," he says, "when the Great Bear was
turning at the hand of Bootes, and all the tribes of
voice-dividing men were lying subdued by toil,
then did Cupid stand and knock at my door.
'Who/ said I, 'is battering the door? You will
drive my dreams away. 7 And Love says, 'Open;
I am a little child; be not alarmed; I have been
wandering in the moonless night, and I am wet
through P On hearing this I pitied him and
straightway opened the door. And I beheld a
child with wings, bearing a bow and quiver.
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THE HUMOR OF THE GREEKS
Placing him on the hearth, I warmed his hands in
mine and squeezed the water from his wet hair.
But he, when the cold had left him, turned to me
and said, ' Come, let us try the bow, whether the
string is at all injured by the wet/ So he let fly
an arrow at my heart, sharp as the sting of a
gadfly. Then he leaped up laughing, and said,
' Rejoice with me, for the bow-tip is uninjured;
but I fear you will have a pain in your heart/ '
Truly a graceless boy; but Theocritus tells a
little story that may go far to console us. Once
on a time, he says, Dan Cupid was gathering
roses, and in the heart of one of the roses, all un-
seen, was hid a bee. Cupid caught it unknowing,
and it straightway stung his finger. He ran
crying to his mother, the golden lady of Cy-
thera.
"I am undone, mother !" he cried. " I am undone
and dying, for a little winged creature that the
farmers call a bee has wounded me!"
But foam-born Aphrodite answered, "Thou, too,
art a little thing and winged, but what pain goes
with the sting of thy arrows!"
One instance more, and we must leave the worst
of all bad boys and his too tender-hearted mamma.
Here is an epigram which I quote not so much for
its humor as its grace. When Praxiteles molded
that lovely statue of Venus which is to this day
the type and model of all loveliness, a poet, seek-
ing a fitting inscription for the statue, imagined
Venus speaking thus:
" Paris beheld me unveiled at the judgment of
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WHY THE WORLD LAUGHS
the three goddesses; and Anchises, father of my
^Eneas; but when did Praxiteles see me?"
One of the funniest Greek stories is this tale of
the deaf litigants before a deaf judge, told by
Nicarchus. A deaf man, he relates, had a lawsuit
with another deaf man; and the judge was even
more deaf than either plaintiff or defendant.
For the plaintiff declared that the defendant owed
him five months' rent for his house; but the de-
fendant replied that he had been working at the
mill all night; and the judge said, "Why are you
contending? You have a mother. Both of you
must contribute to her support!' 7
I have seen this, too, quoted as from the Greek.
A certain man was blessed with a wife quarrel-
some as Socrates' s Xantippe. They came running
to him and told him that his wife was fallen into
the river; and he at once set off up-stream to rescue
her.
"Fool," they said, "the current will carry her
down-stream, not up!"
"Ah," he replied, "you do not know my wife!"
There are scores of these Greek jokes of only a
line or two, and yet full of Attic salt. Thus the
same Nicarchus whom I have already quoted
tells us that Pheido the miser wept, not because he
must die, but because the price of coffins had
gone up. There are, indeed, many of these jests
at death, and one distinctive element of humor in
Greece is the comic epitaph, the joke written even
on the tombstone. Take this for example again
from the sharp pen of Nicarchus:
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THE HUMOR OF THE GREEKS
"Pheido the physician neither dosed me nor
handled me; but, being ill of a fever, I remembered
his name, and died."
Though not an epitaph, this is an equally keen
thrust at the good doctors:
"Rhodon takes away leprosy and scrofula with
his medicines; he takes away everything else
without medicines."
Once more, from Nicarchus: " When the night-
owl sings, other things die. When Demophilus
sings, the night-owl dies."
An equally keen, artistic criticism is this, this
time not of a musician but of a sculptor: "Dio-
dorus carved the image of Menodotus and set it
up, very like everybody except Menodotus."
In a more gracious spirit is this compliment to
a pretty girl, Dercylis by name, " There are now
two Venuses, ten Muses, and four Graces; for
Dercylis is a Muse, a Venus, and a Grace."
It was left for a latter-day barbarian to write the
contrary epigram in the album of a disagreeable
young lady:
There were three Graces. Thee thy mother bore.
The Graces still are three, not four.
That is written by a Scythian, and it is worthy
of a Scythian. Worthy of a Scythian is this
epigram of the Greek Automedon :
" Yesterday mine host gave me for dinner a
goat's foot and a dish of hemp sprouts. I dare
not mention his name, for he is quick-tempered,
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WHY THE WORLD LAUGHS
and I dread lest in revenge he might invite me
again."
Here is a very pretty Grecian riddle: "If
you look at me, I look at you; you look at me with
your eyes but I do not behold you with eyes, for I
have none. And if you speak, I answer you with-
out a voice; for the voice is yours, though I open
my lips." The answer to the riddle is, of course,
a looking-glass.
Almost too biting to deserve the name of humor
is this epigram to an unknown lady, who, no
doubt, had properly snubbed the poet: "You
have bought hair, paint, honey, wax, teeth; at
the same cost, you might have bought a face."
Equally sharp is this, which we may number
with the comic epitaphs: "I, Timocrates of
Rhodes, lie here, having eaten much, drunk much,
and spoken much evil of men."
Here is another epitaph, rather pathetic than
comic, yet still in the vein of humor: "I, Diony-
sius of Tarsus, lie here, sixty years old; I never
married; I wish my father had not."
Some very witty things were said of Bacchus,
god of the clustering vine, and of the red juice
pressed from the grape. One poet writes of him
thus:
"I am armed against the love-god with firm
reasons in my breast; nor shall he conquer while
it is one against one. I, a mortal, will stand against
an immortal. But if Bacchus comes to his help,
what can I do, single-handed, against two?"
Yet more humorous is this epigram on Anacreon.
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THE HUMOR OF THE GREEKS
the poet of wine and philandering: " Behold old
Anacreon on a marble bench, well soaked with
wine, and with a garland of flowers on his head.
The old fellow leers with moist eyes, and has
drawn his robe down to his heels. But, like a
tipsy man, he has lost one of his slippers; the other
clings to his wrinkled foot. He is singing love-
songs to his lyre. But do thou, lord Bacchus,
guard him. For it is not seemly that a servant
of Bacchus should come to grief through worship
of Bacchus."
Also concerned with Bacchus and his devotees
is the following, which is to be added to our collec-
tion of comic epigrams: "This is the tomb of
the hoary-headed woman Maronis; on her monu-
ment you behold a cup sculptured in stone. The
old woman, fond of strong wine, and an ever-
lasting talker, mourns not for her children nor for
the father of her children; even in the grave
she laments one thing alone: that the stone wine-
cup on her tomb is empty."
In a hardly less satirical spirit is this epigram
and epitaph on Diogenes the Cynic, which means
in Greek "the dog-like": "A staff, a scrip, and a
twice-folded garment are the light load of the
wise Diogenes. All these I am carrying to
Charon, ferryman of the Styx, for I have left
nothing above ground. And may you, dog
Cerberus, guardian of Hades, welcome me, the
Dog!"
Here is another epigram on a tipsy old lady:
"Bacchylis, when she was sore afflicted with sick-
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WHY THE WORLD LAUGHS
ness, made a vow to goddess Ceres, saying, 'If,
O goddess, I escape from this destructive fever, I
will drink in honor of thee water unmixed with
wine, while I behold a hundred suns! 7 But as
soon as she was cured of her fever she hit on this
plan to fulfil her vow: she held a sieve up to the
sun, and, looking through it, beheld a hundred
suns. So on that day she drank water, and on the
next was back at her wine."
We all remember the verses concerning the dog
which went mad and bit the man, and which
tell us that "the dog it was that died." The
original is Greek, and far sharper in point than
its modern copy: "A poisonous viper stung a
Cappadocian. The viper died!"
But let us relieve the bitterness of this too
satiric humor by a charming epitaph on two
ancient twins: "We were of one blood, two old
women of the same age, Anaxo and Cleino, twin
daughters of Epicrates. Cleino was priestess of
the Graces; Anaxo all her life long a handmaiden
of Demeter. We lacked nine days of eighty
years, but of years there is no grudging to those,
to whom they were holy. We loved our husbands
and children. But we, old women, first reached
Hades, kind to us!"
One may add that the richer theological mean-
ing imported into the name Hades gives an added
touch of humor to some of these Greek epigrams;
as, for instance, this: "Three maidens sat on a
roof, and drew lots to see which of them should
die first. Thrice the lot fell to one of them, and
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A POISONOUS VIPER STUNG A CAPPADOCIAN. THE VIPER DIED!
THE HUMOR OF THE GREEKS
even while they were laughing, she fell off the roof,
and went to Hades!"
It would be impossible to write of Hellenic
humor without saying something of the greatest
humorist of them all, of whom the poet sang:
"The Graces, seeking an everlasting shrine,
built it for themselves in the heart of Aris-
tophanes."
Aristophanes was, of course, a great deal more
than a humorist, a writer of successful comedies.
He was a satirist with a mission, up to his neck in
politics and religious controversies, writing every
play to carry a point or to drive home some
political doctrine. He was a pamphleteer as
well as a playwright; indeed, his plays are often
political pamphlets; or, since he was of the older
party, very aristocratic and an enemy of the
radicals, one might compare him to Butler, and
his plays to Hudibras. But we have nothing
quite like him, as he pours forth his torrents of
humor, laughing, mocking, satirizing, tremen-
dously earnest with his jests, fighting the battles
of the state with his eloquent puppets of the
stage. Perhaps the best of his plays, for our
purpose, and the most illustrative of the quality
of his humor is that which he directed against the
too eloquent, too tearful poet Euripides, whom
he accused of maligning the whole race of women.
The plot of the play is in the highest degree
humorous, for Aristophanes depicts the women of
Athens gathering to celebrate the Mysteries of
Ceres, dark goddess of the fertile earth those
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WHY THE WORLD LAUGHS
mysteries at which no man might be present on
pain of death.
And on the mid fast of the festival they are to
hold a woman's parliament and to impeach Euripi-
des. The poet, hearing of this, is terrified, and
tells his old cousin Mnesilochus that he will try
to persuade the effeminate poet Agathon to put
on woman's weeds, mingle with the women, and
try to change their opinion to one more kindly to
Euripides. But Agathon refuses in a very funny
scene, and old Mnesilochus is presently entrapped
into promising to go himself in disguise. Then
follows a scene of roaring farce, in which the old
fellow is shaved and singed and dressed in woman's
garments, and in the middle of the scene begins
to howl and tries to escape with one cheek still
unshaven. In due time we see him mingling with
the women, when the assembled angry dames are
bringing a railing accusation against Euripides,
full of quotations from his own honied verse:
Upon my word, we can't do anything
We used to do; he has made the men so silly.
Suppose I'm hard at work upon a chaplet,
Hey, she's in love with somebody; suppose
I chance to drop a pitcher on the floor,
And straightway 'tis, For whom was this intended?
I warrant now, for our Corinthian friend . . .
The rich old men
Who used to marry us are grown so shy
We never catch them now; and all because
Euripides declares, the scandal-monger,
An old man weds a Tyrant, not a wife!
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THE HUMOR OF THE GREEKS
Very quotable is the eloquent chorus of women,
who come forward in defense of the fair sex which
Euripides has so poetically traduced, as they
aver:
Now let us turn to the people, our own panegyric to render.
Men never speak a good word, never one, for the feminine
gender,
Every one says we're a Plague, the source of all evils to man,
War, dissension, and strife. Come, answer me this, if you
can;
Why, if we're really a Plague, you're so anxious to have us for
wives;
And charge us not to be gadding, nor to stir out-of-doors for
our lives?
Isn't it silly to guard a Plague with such scrupulous care?
Lord! how you rave, coming home, if your poor little wife
isn't there.
Should you not rather be glad, and rejoice all the days of
your life,
Rid of a Plague, you know, the source of dissension and strife?
If on a visit we sport, and sleep when the sporting is over,
Oh, how you rummage about; what a fuss, your lost Plague
to discover!
Every one stares at your Plague if she happens to look on the
street :
Stares all the more if your Plague thinks proper to blush and
retreat.
We cannot carry this world-old controversy
further, nor follow the detection of Mnesilochus,
or his recourse to the famous stage-trick: "Hit
me now, with a child in me arms!' 7 where the
child turns out to be a dummy, and no authentic
infant at all; nor can we linger over his arrest
by the Scythian policeman, his screamingly funny
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WHY THE WORLD LAUGHS
allusions to Euripides's plays for plans of escape,
where he imagines himself to be fair Andromeda
chained to the rock, awaiting Perseus, or Helen,
loveliest of all, fleeing from Egypt, the whole
ending in boisterous, roistering farce. We get
nothing so good again in literature, until we
come to the comedies of Shakespeare.
XII
ARISTOPHANES AND THE LADIES
ONE of the most entertaining things, and one
of the most wonderful, in the literature of the
world is the way in which Aristophanes has
foreseen by three and twenty centuries so many
sides of the great modern movement for the
liberation of women.
What a genius, what splendid creative power,
what turbulent force, what uproarious laughter
and mirth, and, through it all, how keen a sense
of beauty and grace!
I doubt if the prim Grecians who write of Attic
literature do him justice. We see Greece and
Athens too much through their eyes: the gloom
of the great tragedies, the death of Socrates, the
rigors of war, the high seriousness of Plato, the
severe beauty of the Acropolis. Then comes the
raging, roaring mirth-maker Aristophanes, with
furious delight parodying the fine tragedies of
Euripides, turning Socrates to the uses of farce,
making the white beauty of the Acropolis the
scene of a feminist demonstration, and burlesquing
the " Republic" of Plato. But for his volcanic
naturalism, he would be one of the most read
authors in the world.
12 167
WHY THE WORLD LAUGHS
Like Euripides, whom he so ferociously mocks,
he is always girding at women, a thing more in-
telligible, perhaps, when we remember that his
plays were played by men for audiences of men,
and so tend to have a " smoking-room" flavor. But
underneath this mockery, and penetrating it with
light, is the prophetic vision of things to come.
Yet even in the midst of his vision, such is his
uncontrollable genius for comedy, Aristophanes
bursts out into shouts and gales of laughter. He
beholds the future, and then he surrounds it with
a golden vapor of humor.
Two of his comedies music dramas, perhaps,
they ought to be called deal especially with move-
ments of upheaval among the women; and it is
significant that, even when his fun is fast and
furious, Aristophanes pierces through to the
heart of the matter and foresees certain vital
truths that have been hidden until our own day.
Foremost among these is a realization that the
enfranchisement of women would make for world
peace. That is the motive of one of his plays.
I remember how, at the graduation day
exercises of a famed college for women, the
speech of the day was made by the distinguished
president of a Western university. A convinced
advocate of universal peace, he appealed to the
girl students before him on behalf of world amity;
and he put his appeal on this ground: In all
ages of the world, he said, the finest of the young
men, and the most manly, have gone to war; and
the bones of these possible bridegrooms lie whiten-
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ARISTOPHANES AND THE LADIES
ing on every battle-field. Would it not be vastly
more profitable for the girls, if, instead of tying
ribbons on their heroes' arms, and sending them
forth to die, they kept them at home and married
them, instead of accepting merely the leavings,
the weak and one-eyed, who cannot go to war?
Would not this make for the uplift of the race?
A most practical appeal to make to marriageable
maidens, and one which they listened to, with
demure faces and well-suppressed smiles. Well,
this modern plea is practically the motive of one
of the best of Aristophanes's music comedies.
The play was written and produced at Athens,
after the great war with Sparta had been raging
for more than twenty years, the women of all
Hellas meanwhile suffering bereavement and all
the terrors and sorrows of those whose husbands
and brothers are in the midst of death. Aris-
tophanes takes this situation and makes uproari-
ous comedy of it.
Lysistrata, the leading lady of the play, keenly
sensible of this bereavement, has summoned a
meeting of the wives and maids of Greece, from
Sparta, from Thebes, from Corinth; and slowly
and stragglingly they assemble in all the grace
and charm that Grecian art has made imperishable.
Lysistrata upbraids them for their tardiness in
coming, and tells them that, had it been a rendez-
vous instead of a solemn assembly, their feet would
have had wings. Then she enumerates, and they
all indorse, their many sorrows and privations
because of the war, and, when all have been
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WHY THE WORLD LAUGHS
won to equal enthusiasm and assent, she sets forth
her plan of peace.
That plan is twofold. The more vital part is a
marriage - strike, in which all swear to join; to
cut themselves off from all sweet domesticities,
from love-making and honeyed words, from all
secret meetings and caresses, from everything
that delights the heart of man and brings it joy,
until such time as peace, universal throughout all
Hellas, the north and the southern peninsula
alike, is signed, sealed and sworn.
The ladies are recalcitrant. Tender hearts
cannot resolve on such hard measures. Creatures
so made for amiability and sweetness cannot
easily make themselves hard and morose. Yet
the greater good prevails, and they swear to join in
universal boycott of all that gives delight to their
lords and lovers, barring their hearts against
every festive humor and gladsome hour.
Then, in the scene of swearing, the uproarious
humor of Aristophanes breaks forth. The ques-
tion arises, by what they are to swear. Lysistrata,
who throughout holds the tone of high seriousness,
bids them lay a shield on the ground, the hollow
side up, to catch the blood of the slaughtered
victim, while they swear, like the Seven against
Thebes of Aeschylus, by the sacred shield.
But the others object. How swear on a weapon
of war, in the cause of peace, even over the blood
of an innocent sheep? Then a white horse is sug-
gested as the victim, but this is voted down.
Finally Lysistrata suggests, instead of a shield,
170
ARISTOPHANES AND THE LADIES
a goblet, and to replace the blood of the victim
a generous portion of Thasian wine. They all
assent with alacrity, and there begins an eager
rivalry as to who shall drink first. Lysistrata
administers the oath, and they promise solemnly
to abjure matrimony and all love-making, to hold
themselves in gloomy solitude; if embraced, to
yield themselves log-like, without sympathy or
response; to put all sweetness and gentleness from
their hearts; and, as they shall keep this true
oath, they shall drink from the Thasian goblet,
but, if they forswear themselves, may the wine
turn to water on their lips!
Meanwhile the minor part of the plan is going
forward. While the younger women have been
abjuring Hymen, the elder have had a sterner
task. Realizing that war cannot be carried on
by mere fighting, but needs great outlay of
treasure, they have determined to enter the
Acropolis, under guise of worship, and seize the
sacred treasure in the great temple of Athene,
barring the white, lovely shrine against rude and
combative man. So the scene changes to the
wonderful Acropolis, the marvel of the world and
of all later times, and round this matchless shrine
Aristophanes gathers his mirth-makers in the
wildest spirit of uproarious comedy. The victory
of the women, .the culminating scene in which
the warriors find their hearts succumb to the
longing for domestic love, are supremely splendid
comedy, in spite of the turbulent naturalism of the
poet. And the drama ends on a high note of
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WHY THE WORLD LAUGHS
serenity illumined by humor, in the eloquent speech
of the Spartan ambassador, and the closing words
of Lysistrata: "Let us go, since all has ended
happily; lead forth your wives, Laconians, and,
Athenians, lead forth yours; the husband beside
the wife, the wife beside the husband. To cele-
brate this happy peace, let us form choruses in
honor of the gods, and in the future let us abstain
from sin!"
The other great music comedy in which Aris-
tophanes sings of the revolt of the women belongs
to a period two decades later, when Athens had been
thoroughly beaten by Sparta, and when, to repair
her shattered fortunes, she had sought an alliance
with her fierce old enemy, Thebes. This had
turned out disastrously, and Aristophanes, the
stubborn old conservative, came forth with a rail-
ing accusation against the politicians, an attack
which took the form of high comedy, where the
women, disgusted at the men's puttering in-
competence and misrule, determined to take mat-
ters into their own hands and rule in their stead.
Here again the serious thought and purpose
of Aristophanes is hidden under a mask of broad
burlesque. He imagines a ridiculous expedient,
eminently fitting in musical comedy: that the
women shall seize power by capturing a hurry
vote in the assembly, and that they shall do this
by going disguised to the meeting-place and vot-
ing, as men, for the rule of women.
So we are confronted, in the first act, by a
slender gathering of women, wearing false beards,
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ARISTOPHANES AND THE LADIES
awkwardly draped in their husbands 7 cloaks,
wearing large masculine shoes, and bracing their
courage for an attack on the assembly. In-
cidentally, we learn that, to make sure of a
majority of votes, they have sought to keep their
husbands away from the morning session by
giving them too much supper the evening before.
And there is a scene of true music comedy, in
which the women describe the preparation of their
disguises and fill their mouths with large, mas-
culine oaths. One of the ladies causes consterna-
tion by declaring that she has brought her spinning
and hopes to do a little peaceful work while she
listens to the others' speeches. Much of this
excellent fooling reminds us of Rosalind's disguise
in the Forest of Arden.
When the women are properly fitted out, Praxa-
gora, their leader, makes an eloquent little speech
which announces their principles:
" Friends/ 7 she says, "I have an equal stake
with you in this land of ours. And my heart
grows heavy when I behold the misgovernment of
the state. For I see the city ever employing
rogues. If any of them governs well for a day, he
makes up for it by ten days of misrule. You
turn to another; he is far worse. It is no easy
thing to give counsel to headstrong men, who
always mistrust those who love you best, and lend
your ear to those who love you not. Not so long
ago we did not come at all to the assemblies; we
knew well that Agyrrhius, the leader, was a rascal.
Now we come, and he who gets the silver praises
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WHY THE WORLD LAUGHS
him, but he who gets nothing swears that he who
gets it ought to die."
Then one of the ladies, won by so much elo-
quence, cries out: "By Aphrodite, it is well
said!" Only to be reprimanded for using such
effeminate oaths.
Praxagora proceeds with her oration, reproaching
the Athenians with their fickleness. First they
sought the league with the enemies of Sparta;
now they reprehend it. First they loved the
Corinthians; now they cannot endure them. Here
one of the lady auditors, well coached, breaks in
with: "The man speaks well!" And the lady
orator warmly acknowledges what is now a fitting
tribute. Praxagora then sums up: The light-
minded Athenians receive from the public purse
a wage for voting, yet each of them is intent only
on his private gain. So the state reels like a
drunkard. Still there is one possibility of salva-
tion: let the city be given over to the rule of the
women, who show such powers of government in
their own houses.
Then breaks forth a genuine expression of the
spirit of Aristophanes. He, a conservative, praises
women for a conservatism that is all his own.
They dye their wool in the ancient fashion, he
says, and try no new plans. Might not Athens
have been safe if she, too, had dyed her wool,
in the old way, and left new plans alone? Women
are right conservatives:
They bake their honied cheese-cakes, as of old;
They victimize their husbands, as of old;
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ARISTOPHANES AND THE LADIES
They still secrete their lovers, as of old;
They buy themselves sly dainties, as of old;
They love their wine un watered, as of old :
Then let us, gentlemen, give up to them
The helm of state, and not concern ourselves,
Nor pry, nor question what they mean to do;
But let them really govern, knowing this,
The statesman-mothers never will neglect
Their soldier-sons . And then a soldier's rations ,
Who will supply as well as she who bare him?
This is but the rehearsal. The women settle
their disguises, see that their beards are on straight,
tuck up their tunics, and set out for the assembly,
where, we learn, their plans are perfectly success-
ful. The motion of Praxagora is put and carried,
and the Athenians, partly persuaded to by the
votes of the temporarily bearded ladies, hand
over to the women the governance of the state.
That is the first part of the play, but at this
pohit Aristophanes suddenly succumbs to tempta-
tion, and his music comedy breaks in two across
the middle. The temptation was a tremendous
one, so great that we are almost driven to call it,
not a snare, but a superb opportunity. Yet we
are constrained to add that to the height of his
opportunity Aristophanes failed to rise.
It was no less than this: Plato had just pub-
lished his " Republic," and it was superlatively open
to parody. The dramatist who had made such
fun of Socrates could not resist such an oppor-
tunity as this; and it is only in the light of Plato's
growing splendor through twenty-three centuries
that we may realize what an opportunity it was.
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WHY THE WORLD LAUGHS
A new work of Plato's; one of his greatest, as theme
for a new music comedy. What gift of the god of
chance was ever equal to that?
Yet we are constrained to say that Aristophanes
foozles. He seizes the wrong point, or treats it
wrongly. Plato had said something concerning
domestic affections and the danger that they
might narrow the heart to a " selfishness of two."
Therefore he suggested that, in certain high cases,
wives might be elected or co-opted; that they
might be functionaries rather than property, so
that this narrowing passion might not grow.
Aristophanes seizes on this new notion, the
antecedent of our modern eugenics, and distorts
it into a human emulation of the sparrows, a sort
of matrimonial go-as-you-please. And he builds
the second part of his plot on the idea that the
women of Athens, having gained command of the
state, shall use their power to institute this con-
jugal lucky-bag, and inaugurate a millennium of
promiscuity.
We can in part forgive the great comedian. His
grudge is against Plato and all innovators,
and he spoils his play by using it to vent his
spleen against Plato's high and unassailable se-
renity. He fails, but he fails splendidly, and there
is no grain of malice in his uproarious laughter.
XIII
LUCIAN'S AVIATION STORY
IT is time for us to build a monument to Jules
Verne. He is the true prophet of this miraculous
year. The journey *to the North Pole, the sub-
marine boat of Captain Nemo, the coming of the
Comet, the men-birds flying thousands of miles
through the air: all are in his books; all were in
his books thirty years ago. In the submarines,
such details as the motors and the air replenished
by oxygen from chlorate of potash were fore-
told by him; in the flying-machines he used pure
hydrogen, and wove a balloon within a balloon,
as did the latest aspirant for transatlantic honors.
Well did his good wife say of him that Jules Verne
was not a novelist, but a prophet. Let us build
him a monument, since he foretold this marvelous
time.
Two of his stories we have not yet caught up
on: the voyage to the moon, and the journey to
the center of the earth; but no doubt we shall;
the more so, because in these two marvels he was
not the pioneer, for Lucian, the witty Greek-
speaking Syrian of the Roman Empire, had made
both trips before him, had journeyed as far as the
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WHY THE WORLD LAUGHS
moon, and even to the center of the earth, if so
be that Hades is at the center of the earth.
Jules Verne clothed scientific prophecy in the
cloak of a story, and thereby enraptured a myriad
of boys who had faith enough to believe in him
while they read. Lucian clothes satire in the
form of veridical history, and thereby delights
all who have any enjoyment of pretty writing,
any sympathy for his keen and graceful, or, indeed,
often graceless satire. Why did they not make us
read Lucian when we were studying Greek?
Was it because he was too entertaining, or because
he is faintly naughty? I know not; but I regret
that so delicious a writer should not find his way
into the hands of boys. One may almost call him
the writer of French novels in Greek, for the times
of Marcus Aurelius; for the spirit of the French
novel of the better sort, and of some of the other
sorts too, is in his books, and the form itself is a
triumph of gentle satire: the matter of the light
comedies of Menander, poured into the molds
of Plato; frivolity in graceful dialogue, with the
spirit of honest and truth-loving skepticism through
it all.
So we come to that journey to the moon.
Lucian did not make the trip in his proper person,
but foists it upon a certain imaginary person,
Icaromenippus, a cross between Menippus, the
cynic philosopher of Gadara, and that Icarus, son
of Daedalus, who fled, or rather flew, from the
realm of Minos, King of Crete, toward Italy and,
like one of our own bird-men, came toppling down
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LUCIAN'S AVIATION STORY
into the water, not because his engine stopped,
but because, rashly flying too close to the sun,
the wax which held his wings on got melted.
Icaromenippus was equipped, as we should now
say, with a monoplane which he himself somewhat
inadequately describes as made of the right wing
of an eagle and the left wing of a vulture, these
two alone having wings fit to bear aloft sovereign
man. Incidentally, he had neither equilibrator
nor wing feathers; perhaps that is why he safely
reached the moon. He began cautiously with
safe experiments, first jumping up and helping
the jump by flapping his hands, or imitating the
way a goose raises itself without leaving the
ground and combines running with flight. Any-
one who has attended an aviation meet will
recognize the accuracy of this. Then, finding the
machine obedient, he next made a bolder venture,
went up to the Acropolis of Athens, and launched
himself from the cliff, right over the theater.
Getting safely to the bottom that time, his
aspirations shot up aloft. He took to starting
from the hilltop of Parnes or Hymettus, flying
to Geranea, thence to the pinnacle of Corinth,
and over Pholoe and Erymanthus to Taygetus.
The training for his venture was now complete;
his powers were developed and equal to lofty
flight; he had tuned up his plane, in the language
of a later day. So he went to Mount Olympus,
provisioning himself as lightly as possible, and
soared skyward, giddy at first with that great
void below, but soon conquering this difficulty .
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WHY THE WORLD LAUGHS
When he approached the moon, long after parting
from the clouds, he was conscious of fatigue, es-
pecially in the left or vulture's wing, so he alighted
and sat down to rest, having a bird's-eye view of
the earth, like the Homeric Zeus,
Surveying now the Thrasian horseman's land,
Now, Mysia,
and again, as the fancy took him, Greece or Persia
or India. From all of which he drew a manifold
delight. Imagine yourself, he says, first descrying
a tiny earth, far smaller than the moon looks; on
turning his eyes down, he could not think for some
time what had become of the mighty mountains
and the vast sea. If he had not caught sight of
the Colossus of Rhodes and the Pharus tower at
Alexandria, he might never have identified the
earth at all. But their height and projection,
with the faint shimmer of the ocean in the sun,
showed him that it must be the earth he was
looking at. Then, when once he had got his sight
properly focused, the whole human race became
clear to him, not merely in the shape of nations
and cities, but the simple, separate persons sailing,
fighting, plowing, going to law; the women, the
beasts, and, in short, every breed "that feedeth
on earth's foison."
Here the friend to whom Icaromenippus tells
the tale breaks in.
"Most unconvincing and contradictory," he
says. "First, the earth was so diminished by
distance that you could only identify it by the
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LUCIAN'S AVIATION STORY
Colossus of Rhodes, and then you suddenly de-
velop such vision as had that first lynx-eyed
Argonaut, who could distinguish things nine miles
off."
Icaromenippus defends himself by saying that,
on the advice of Empedocles, the physicist, or
rather his ghost, whom he found inhabiting the
lunar vales, and who came up most opportunely
at the moment, he borrowed an eagle's eye, and
could then see splendidly. Of course, it is obvious
that he means a telescope. Racy, indeed, and
full of brilliant satire is his account of what he
saw, looking thus downward from his high point
of vantage upon the children of men, the host of
" burglars, litigants, usurers, duns"; glancing at
Getica, he saw the Geta3 at war; at Scythia, there
were the Scythians wandering about on their
wagons; half a turn in another direction gave him
Egypt, with the sons of the Pharaohs at the
plow, or Phoenicians chaffering, Silician pirates,
Spartan flagellants, Athenians at law. But he
seems to have missed the United States.
He was especially amused, he tells his friend, by
those who dispute about boundaries or pride them-
selves on cultivating the plain of Sicyon or a
thousand acres at Acharnse. Fcr the whole of
Greece as he saw it might measure some four
inches; how much smaller, then, was Athens on
the same scale! Then he looked at the Pelopon-
nesus, and his eyes fell on the Cynurian district,
and the thought occurred to him that it was for
this little plot, no broader than an Egyptian
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WHY THE WORLD LAUGHS
lentil, that so many Argives and Spartans fell in a
single day. Or if he saw a man puffed up by the
possession of seven or eight gold rings and half as
many gold cups, his lungs began to crow, for
Mount Pangseus, with all its mines, was about the
size of a grain of millet. Men and cities suggested
to him so many ant-hills.
When he had laughed to his heart's content,
Icaromenippus once more spread his wings and
soared, but he had only flown a couple of hundred
yards when he heard the shrill voice of Selene,
the moon-goddess, herself. She had a grievance.
The astronomers, it would seem, had been paying
her too many attentions, inquiring about her size,
her waist measurement, her waxing and waning,
and the like; and she felt affronted, as a maiden
lady naturally would. Therefore she begged the
bird-man to betake him to great Zeus, father of
gods and men, carrying thither her plaint and
begging his corrective intercession. Moreover,
said good lady Moon, the things she saw on
moonlit nights well, she simply had to hide her
face in the cloud-veils.
So Icaromenippus promised to bear the message
to high Zeus. Soon the moon was but a small
object in the sky, as he soared through the farther
empyrean, and the earth was completely hidden
behind it.
Three days' flight through the stars with the
sun on his right hand brought him to heaven;
and his first idea was to go straight in, trusting
his eagle's wing to pass muster before Zeus;
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LUCIAN'S AVIATION STORY
but, on second thoughts remembering that the
left wing had come from a vulture, he had
misgivings, and, humbly knocking at the door,
gave his name to Hermes, he of the winged hat
and sandals. Hermes went off to announce him
to Zeus, and after a brief wait he was asked to
step in.
Trembling with apprehension, he went for-
ward and found the gods, all seated together
and, as it seemed to him, not quite easy among
themselves. The unexpected nature of the visit
was slightly disturbing to them, and they had vi-
sions of all mankind arriving at his heels by the
same conveyance. It was an earlier version of
An Englishman's Home.
But Zeus bent upon him a Titanic glance,
awful, penetrating, and spoke:
"Who art thou? Where thy city? Who thy
kin?"
At the sound, Icaromenippus nearly died with
fright, but he remained upright, though mute and
paralyzed by that thunderous voice. Gradually
recovering, he began at the beginning and gave
a clear account of himself: how he had been
possessed with curiosity about the heavens, had
gone to the philosophers, found their accounts
conflicting, and grown tired of being logically
rent in twain; so he came to his great idea of
wings, and ultimately to heaven. He added the
message of the maiden lady Moon, whereat great
Zeus smiled. The king of the gods bade him make
himself at home, spite of his soaring presumption,
13 183
WHY THE WORLD LAUGHS
outdoing that of the two giants, Otus and Ephi-
altes, who piled Ossa on Olympus, and Pelion
on Ossa, in their attempt to climb to heaven.
"For to-day/ 7 said Zeus, "consider yourself our
guest. To-morrow we will treat with you of your
business and send you on your way." And
therewith he rose and walked to the acoustic
center of heaven, it being prayer-time.
And here we come upon the most essential spirit
of this quick-witted Syrian Greek, his keen
skepticism, demolishing alike the old Homeric
fables of the gods of Olympus and the new systems
of the philosophers, whether they followed Plato
or Aristotle or Zeno the Stoic. His disbelief is
all-embracing, his destructive wit touches every-
thing alike; yet one feels that honesty is at the
bottom of it all. It is the fables of the poets, the
pretensions of the philosophers that have turned
his gorge; and at heart he is far more religious than
they, even while mocking at their semblance of
religion. So we may follow him, in the person
of his bird-man Icaromenippus, to "the acoustic
center of heaven," at the time of prayer.
As Zeus and the flying philosopher went thither
together, the god put questions to the man con-
cerning earthly affairs; asking, to begin with,
how much was wheat a quarter in Greece? Had
the Athenians suffered much from cold last winter?
Did the vegetable gardens need more rain? Then
Zeus wished to know whether any of the kin of
Pheidias were still alive, why his festival had not
been celebrated at Athens for ever so many years,
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LUCIAN'S AVIATION STORY
whether his Olympieum was ever going to be
completed, and had the men who robbed his temple
at Dodona been caught? The bird-man answered
all these inquiries, and Zeus began again:
"Tell me, Menippus, what are men's feelings
toward me?"
"What should they be, lord," answered the
daring philosopher, "but those of absolute reve-
rence, as to the king of all gods?"
"Now, now!" said Zeus, chaffing as usual. "I
know their fickleness very well, for all your dis-
simulation. There was a time when I was their
prophet, their healer, and their all,
And Zeus filled every street and gathering-place.
In those days Dodona and Pisa were glorious
and far-famed, and I could not get a view for the
clouds of sacrificial steam. But now Apollo
has set up his altar at Delphi, Asclepius his temple
of health at Pergamum, Bendis and Anubis and
Artemis their shrines in Thrace, Egypt, Ephesus;
and to these all run; theirs the festal gatherings
and the hecatombs. As for me, I am super-
annuated; they think themselves very generous
if they offer me a victim at Olympia every four
years. My altars are chilly as Plato's laws or
Chrysippus's syllogisms!"
Thus did this oddly assorted couple, aviator
and Olympian, gossip, until they reached the spot
where Zeus was to sit and listen to the prayers.
There was a row of openings with lids like well-
185
WHY THE WORLD LAUGHS
covers, and a chair of gold by each. Zeus took
his seat at the first, lifted off the lid, and inclined
his ear. From every quarter of earth were coming
the most various and contradictory petitions; for
Icaromenippus, too, bent down his head and lis-
tened, so that he was able later to make this
authentic report.
"0 Zeus," prayed one, "that I might be king!"
"O Zeus, that my onions and garlic might
thrive!"
"Ye gods, a speedy death to my father!"
Or again:
"Would that I might succeed to my wife's
property!"
"Grant that my plot against my brother be
not detected!"
"Let me win my suit!"
"Give me a garland at the Olympic games!"
Of those at sea, one prayed for a north, an-
other for a south wind; the farmer asked for
rain, the fuller for sun. Zeus listened, and gave
each prayer careful consideration, but without
promising to grant them all; righteous prayers
he allowed to come up through the hole, received
them and laid them down at his right, while he
sent the unholy ones packing with a down-
ward puff of breath, that heaven might not
be defiled by their entrance. In one case the
aviator saw that he was puzzled; two men pray-
ing for opposite things and promising the same
sacrifice, he could not tell which of them to favor,
and experienced a truly Platonic suspense, show-
186
LUCIAN'S AVIATION STORY
ing a reserve and equilibrium worthy of Pyrrho,
father of all skeptics.
When the prayers of mortal men had thus been
dealt with, Zeus went on to the next of the golden
chairs and attended to oaths and those who were
making them. These done with, he proceeded to
the next chair to deal with omens, prophetic voices,
and auguries. Then came the lid of sacrifice,
which he duly lifted; and the smoke, coming up
through the aperture, communicated to him the
name of the sacrificer. After that, says Icaro-
menippus, he was free to give his wind and weather
orders: rain for Scythia to-day, a thunder-storm
for Lydia, snow for Greece. The north wind he
instructed to blow in Lydia, the west to raise
up a storm in the Adriatic, the south to take a
rest; a thousand bushels of hail were measured
out, to be distributed over Cappadocia.
As the day's work of the father of gods and men
was now pretty well completed, and as it was
just dinner-time, he led Icaromenippus to the
banquet-hall. Hermes received the new-comer,
and assigned him a seat next to a group of gods
whose alien origin left them in rather a doubtful
position Pan, he of the melodious pipes, the
whirling Corybantes, Attis and Sabazius. Icaro-
menippus was supplied with bread by Demeter,
with wine by Bacchus, meat by Heracles, myrtle-
blossoms by Aphrodite, and fish by Poseidon.
But he also got a sly taste of ambrosia, the undying
food of the gods, and nectar, their beverage; good-
natured Ganymede, the boy whom Zeus's eagle
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WHY THE WORLD LAUGHS
had carried to heaven to be cup-bearer of the im-
mortals, as often as he saw that Zeus's attention
was directed elsewhere, brought round the nectar
and gave the visitor a cupful. During the dinner
Apollo harped, Silenus danced, and the Muses
sang selections of Greek verse.
What befell thereafter, and how great Zeus
settled the matter of the maiden Moon's plaint
against the two inquisitive philosophers, were
long to tell, though excellent in the telling. Suffice
it that Icaromenippus, shorn of his wings lest he
might rashly come again, was carried safely back
to earth by Hermes, who lifted him cautiously by
the right ear and bore him through the ether,
depositing him safe in Athens. Whereupon he
hurried forth to warn the philosophers of the
impending thunderbolt which Zeus had in pickle
for them. Whether they heeded him and re-
formed or heeded not and met their glittering
doom, deponent sayeth not. And so ends the
tale.
XIV
A SCOFFER ON MOUNT OLYMPUS
WITH what joy we would have studied our
Greek in bygone days if " flogging Orbilius "
had but given us Lucian's Dialogues of the Gods
instead of prosily boastful Xenophon or long-
winded Demosthenes ! Irreverent he is, no doubt,
this Scoffer on Mount Olympus, but how de-
liciously funny! Caustic at times, too, as, for
example, in the scene where Hermes and Hephaestus
are sent to crucify Prometheus on the cliff of
Caucasus for stealing divine fire and creating
men.
"This," says Hermes, "is the Caucasus, to
which it is our painful duty to nail our com-
panion. We have now to select a suitable crag,
free from snow, on which the chains will have a
good hold and where the prisoner will hang in all
publicity."
"True," replies Hephaestus. "It will not do
to fix him too low down, or these men he has
created might come to their maker's assistance;
nor at the top, where he would be invisible from
the earth. What do you say to a middle course?
Let him hang over this precipice, with his arms
stretched across from crag to crag."
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WHY THE WORLD LAUGHS
"The very thing," rejoins Hermes. " Steep
rocks, slightly overhanging, inaccessible on every
side; no foothold but a mere ledge, with scarcely
room for the tips of one's toes; altogether a sweet
spot for a crucifixion. Now, Prometheus, come
and be nailed up; there is no time to lose."
Prometheus here raises his voice in protestation :
"Nay, hear me, Hephaestus! Hermes! I suffer
injustice: have compassion on my woes!"
"In other words," breaks in Hermes, "disobey
orders, and promptly be gibbeted in your stead!
Do you suppose there is no room on the Caucasus
to peg out a couple of us? Come, your right
hand! Clamp it down, Hephaestus, and in with
the nails; bring down the hammer with a will.
Now the left; make sure work of that too. So!
The eagle will shortly be here, to trim your
liver!"
Having nailed up the great benefactor, how-
ever, they agree to listen to his plea on his own
behalf, while they are waiting for Zeus's eagle to
arrive. Prometheus pleads. He declares that
the craft he was guilty of in deceiving Zeus was
but an after-dinner jest, while the making of
men was sheer benefit. For, while there were no
mortals, the immortals only half enjoyed their
royal state, having no wretches to compare with
their own happy lot ; nor had they any one to build
them temples or altars or to till the rude, in-
hospitable earth.
"But," he continues, "you will complain that
we have so much trouble looking after them. At
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A SCOFFER ON MOUNT OLYMPUS
that rate, a shepherd ought to object to the
possession of a flock. Besides, a certain show of
occupation is rather gratifying than otherwise;
the responsibility is not unwelcome it helps to
pass the time. What should we do if we had not
mankind to think of? There would be nothing
to live for; we should sit about drinking nectar
and gorging ourselves with ambrosia. But what
fairly takes my breath away is your assurance
in finding fault with my women in particular,
when all the time you are in love with them:
our bulls and satyrs and swans are never tired of
making descents upon the earth; women, they
find, are good enough to be made mothers of gods!
And now, with your permission, I will approach
the subject of that stolen fire, of which we hear
so much. I have a question to ask, which I beg
you will answer frankly. Has there been one spark
less fire in heaven since men shared it with us?
Of course not. It is the nature of fire that it
does not become less by being imparted to others.
A fire is not put out by kindling another from it.
No, this is sheer envy: you cannot bear that men
should have a share of this necessary, though you
have suffered no harm thereby. For shame!
Gods should be beneficent, ' givers of good';
they should be above all envy. Had I taken away
fire altogether and left not a spark behind, it
would have been no great loss. You have no use
for it. You are never cold; you need no artificial
light; nor is ambrosia improved by boiling. "
Equally humorous, and with less of a sting
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WHY THE WORLD LAUGHS
in it, is the talk between Zeus and Eros, or, as the
Latins would have said, Jove and Cupid. Zeus
is getting ready to administer a well-earned spank-
ing to the little love-god with the quiver, and
Eros pleads:
" You might let me off, Zeus! I suppose it was
rather too bad of me; but there I am but a
child, a wayward child. "
Zeus replies, with indignation: "A child, and
born before lapetus was ever thought of? You
bad old man! Just because you have no beard
and no white hairs, are you going to pass yourself
off for a child?"
"Well," retorts the little love-god, "and what
such mighty harm has the old man ever done you,
that you should talk of chains?"
"Ask your own guilty conscience," replies
mighty Zeus. "The pranks you have played
me! Satyr, bull, swan, eagle, shower of gold
I have been everything in my time; and I have you
to thank for it. You never by any chance make
the women in love with me; no one is ever smitten
with my charms, that I have noticed. No, there
must be magic in it always; I must be kept well
out of sight. They like the bull or the swan well
enough; but once let them set eyes on me, and
they are frightened out of their lives."
"Of course," says Eros. "They are but mor-
tals; the sight of Zeus is too much for them. Now,
shall I tell you the way to win hearts? Keep
that aegis of yours quiet, and leave your thunder-
bolt at home; make yourself as smart as you can;
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A SCOFFER ON MOUNT OLYMPUS
curl your hair and tie it up with a bit of ribbon;
get a purple cloak and gold - bespangled shoes,
and march forth to the music of flute and drum:
and see if you don't get a finer following than
Dionysus, for all his maenads. "
"Pooh!" says the father of gods and men.
"I'll win no hearts on such terms."
"Oh, in that case," pertly replies Eros, "don't
fall in love. Nothing could be simpler."
"I dare say," answers mighty Zeus; "but I
like being in love, only I don't like all this fuss.
Now mind; if I let you off, it is on this under-
standing."
So, unfortunately for fallen humanity, Cupid
was neither muzzled nor chained up; he was not
even well spanked.
Very amusing is the conversation about new-
born Hermes, whom the Romans called Mercury,
which takes place between Hephaestus and
Apollo.
"Have you seen Maia's baby, Apollo?" asks
Hephaestus. "Such a pretty little thing, with a
smile for everybody; you can see it is going to be
a treasure."
"That baby a treasure?" retorts Apollo.
"Well, in mischief, lapetus is young beside it."
"Why," asks Hephaestus, "what harm can it
do, only just born?"
"Ask Poseidon," replies Apollo. "It stole his
trident. Ask Ares; he was surprised to find his
sword gone out of the scabbard. Not to mention
myself, disarmed of bow and arrows."
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WHY THE WORLD LAUGHS
" Never! That infant? He has hardly found
his legs yet; he is not out of his baby linen."
"Ah, you will find out, Hephaestus, if he gets
within reach of you."
"He has been," answers over-confident Hephaes-
tus.
"Well," queries Apollo, "all your tools safe?
None missing?"
"Of course not."
"I advise you to make sure."
"Zeus!" cries Hephaestus. "Where are my
pincers?"
"Ah," replies Apollo, with a golden smile,
"you will find them among the baby linen!"
And so it was. Which is why, among other
reasons, Hermes, or Mercury, was made the god
of thieves and other light-fingered gentry.
Would that I had space to reproduce the
sovereign comedy of Lucian's " Dialogue of the
Judgment of Paris," when the three lovely god-
desses came to the Phrygian shepherd to decide
which of them was entitled to the beauty prize of
the golden apple. Lucian boldly suggests that
the decision in favor of Aphrodite was a matter,
not of superior beauty, but of superior graft;
Athene, afterward patroness . of Athenes and the
Acropolis, a kind of Grecian Walktire, promises
that, if the prize goes to her, she will make Paris
a mighty warrior and conqueror; Hera promises
him the lordship of Asia; but never-dying, artful
Aphrodite, as poetess Sappho calls her, speaks
thus:
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A SCOFFER ON MOUNT OLYMPUS
"Here I am; take your time, and examine care-
fully; let nothing escape your vigilance. And
I have something else to say to you, handsome
Paris. Yes, you handsome boy, I have long had
an eye on you; I think you must be the handsomest
young fellow in all Phrygia. But it is such a
pity that you don't leave those rocks and crags
and live in a town: you will lose all your beauty
in this desert. What have you to do with moun-
tains? What satisfaction can your beauty give
to a lot of cows? You ought to have been mar-
ried long ago; not to any of these dowdy women
hereabouts, but to some Greek girl; an Argive,
perhaps, or a Corinthian, or a Spartan; Helen,
now, is a Spartan, and such a pretty girl quite
as pretty as I am and so susceptible! Why, if
she once caught sight of you, she would give up
everything, I am sure, to go with you; and a most
devoted wife she would be. But you have heard
of Helen, of course? such a lithe, graceful figure;
and only think, she is so much admired that
there was a war because Theseus ran away with
her; and she was a mere child then, ' and so
forth and so on till Paris was beguiled and
fell, as what man would not, if the goddess of
beauty called him handsome? So Aphrodite
got the golden apple of discord, Paris got Argive
Helen, and the avenging Greeks burned Troy
about old Priam's ears.
As funny as the Dialogues of the Gods, and even
more caustic, are the Dialogues of the Dead, which
are the model for all later comic treatment of hell.
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WHY THE WORLD LAUGHS
The best of these, perhaps, is that in which
Hermes and Charon and various shades take
part, Charon beginning thus:
"I'll tell you how things stand. Our craft,
as you see, is small and leaky and three parts
rotten; a single lurch, and she will capsize without
more ado. And here are all you passengers,
each with his luggage. If you come on board
like that, I am afraid you may have cause to
repent it, especially those who have not learned
to swim."
"I'll tell you," optimistically replies the boat-
man of the dead. "They must leave all this
nonsense behind them on shore and come aboard
in their skins. As it is, there will be no room to
spare. And in future, Hermes, mind you, admit
no one till he has cleared himself of encumbrances,
as I say. Stand by the gangway, and keep an eye
on them, and make them strip before you let them
pass."
"Very well," agrees Hermes. "Well, Number
One, who are you?"
"Menippus, -the Cynic. Here are my wallet
and staff; overboard with them. I had the sense
not to bring my cloak."
"Pass on, Menippus; you're a good fellow; you
shall have the seat of honor, up by the pilot, where
you can see every one. Here is a handsome per-
son; who is he?"
"Charmoleos of Megara, the irresistible, whose
kiss was worth a thousand pounds," answers
Charon.
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A SCOFFER ON MOUNT OLYMPUS
"That beauty must come off/' Hermes insists
"lips, kisses, all; the flowing locks, the blushing
cheeks, the skin entire. That's right. Now
we're in better trim. You may pass on. And
who is the stunning gentleman in the purple and
diadem?"
"I am Lampichus, tyrant of Gela," replies the
haughty shade.
"And what is all this splendor doing here,
Lampichus?" asks Hermes.
"How!" angrily retorts Lampichus. "Would
you have a tyrant come hither stripped?"
"A tyrant!" sarcastically answers Hermes.
"That would be too much to expect. But
with a spook, we must insist. Off with these
things!"
"There, then," resignedly replies the dead
tyrant; "away goes my wealth!"
"Pomp must go, too," answers Hermes, re-
morseless; "and pride; we shall be over-freighted
else."
"At least let me keep my diadem and robes,"
begs the tyrant.
"No, no; off they come!"
"Well?" asks Lampichus. "That is all, as you
see for yourself."
"There is something more yet," sternly answers
Hermes "cruelty, folly, insolence, hatred."
"There, then," answers the unhappy tyrant;
"now I am stripped bare ..."
This, indeed, is satire rather than comedy;
and satire in which we can see foreshadowed scenes
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WHY THE WORLD LAUGHS
like the grave-diggers in Hamlet or the door-
keeper in Macbeth.
But, in general, Lucian mocks most good-
naturedly at the gods of great Olympus, turning
them into fun and genial ridicule. Yet all this
has a graver side, for we can well see that this
graceful, witty undermining of the old religion
appreciably helped to clear the way for the new,
which was even then struggling for a foothold
in the Roman world.
XV
THE JESTS OF CICERO'S COUNTRYMEN
IN the days when we were plodding through the
four conjugations we hardly thought of the
Romans as a race of humorists; there was nothing
irresistibly funny about an ablative absolute.
And we were not far from the truth; for Julius
Caesar is a dry dog, even in the Irish translation:
"All Gaul is quartered into three halves." There
is some humor, perhaps, in that famous despatch
sent from Paul's city of Tarsus and communi-
cating the victory over the King of Pontus: "I
came, saw, overcame." But as likely as not its
brevity was mere thriftiness in words, not wit.
In Vergil, too, there is hardly a smile. Would it
not have lightened our days if that tedious
and priggish person, the pious ^Eneas, had been
represented by the Mantuan with a sense of
humor? Tradition had it that ^Eneas was the
son of goddess Venus and Anchises of Troy, but
it is hard to see where he takes after his winsome
and frivolous mamma.
But in Horace there is excellent fooling. Take
that gay satire which tells how he was going by
chance on the Sacred Way, tremendously intent
14 199
WHY THE WORLD LAUGHS
on some trifle or other, when a bore overtook him,
and, running up to him, wrung him warmly by the
hand.
"How do you do, dearest friend?" said the bore.
" Passably well/ 7 replied Horace, who barely
knew his tormentor by sight "passably well, as
the times go; and I wish you everything you can
desire."
When the bore still followed him, Horace asked
him whether he wanted anything.
"But you know me well," answered the bore,
evidently hurt; "am I not a man of learning?"
"In that case," said Horace, "I tender you my
respect."
Then he tried to escape, now walking rapidly,
now lagging, now pretending to stop and talk to
his boy. But the bore held on, till Horace felt
the sweat running down to his ankles, while the
bore droned on, praising the town and the streets.
Finally the bore became suspicious.
"I think," he said, "you are trying to get
away? But you will not escape me. I shall stick
by you. Whither are you going now?"
Horace, with desperate politeness, said that his
worthy friend must not think of putting himself
out so; that he had a long walk before him; was
going, in fact, across the Tiber to visit a sick
friend, one who dwelt by Caesar's gardens, and
whom his worthy friend did not even know by
name. Horace does not say so, but we suspect
that he invented this sick friend beyond the Tiber
on the spur of the moment.
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THE JESTS OF CICERO'S COUNTRYMEN
But the bore stood his ground. "I have
nothing particular to do this morning, " he said,
"and I am a good walker. I will go with you."
Horace gave up in despair. He humorously
describes himself hanging down his ears like an
over-laden donkey and plodding gloomily on his
perfectly useless journey, while the bore began
again, praising himself and saying what a de-
sirable friend he would be, better than Viscus or
Varius, for he could write more verses than they,
and quicker too, and he could dance, too, and sing
in a way to make Hermogenes envious.
Meanwhile Horace had gathered himself to-
gether for a final break for liberty. Interrupting
his wearisome friend, he asked:
"Have you a mother or any relations who are
interested in your welfare?"
"No," replied the bore; "Ihave buried them all."
"Lucky for them!" answered the desperate
Horace. "But I still remain. Despatch me, too,
for the fatal hour has arrived. A Sabine witch
told my fortune when I was a boy, drawing the
fateful words from her urn; 'This child,' she
said, 'must die neither by poison nor by the
sword; nor will pleurisy or gout remove him.
He will fall victim to a bore. Therefore, if he is
wise, let him avoid talkative people when he comes
to man's estate.' '
What the bore said in reply, and how the poor
poet finally got rid of him, he who would know
may read, for the book is extant and writ in choice
Italian.
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WHY THE WORLD LAUGHS
There is another little bit of Horace that has
an equal charm: an ode addressed to the fair and
too accessible Lady Lydia. It would seem that
she and Horace had had their romance; but
time's snows had cooled them, and both had
drifted away after other loves. The ode begins
with a pensive reflection which Horace addresses
to fair, fickle Lydia: So long, he tells her, as she
loved him, and no other youth more favored might
clasp his arms around her snowy neck, he lived
happier than the King of Persia. To which fair
Lydia replies that none was happier than she
until Horace began to make love to the enchanting
Chloe. Horace breaks forth in praises of his new
love; Chloe, he says, draws his heart by her lovely
music and winsome voice, so that he would fain
die for her, if thereby she might live. Lydia,
not to be outdone, sings the praises of her new
lover: Calais and Lydia, she says, burn with
mutual fire; for Calais she would die, not once,
but twice, if hard Fate would turn aside from
him. Then, slyly sentimental, Horace wonders
aloud what would happen if he and Lydia fell in
love with each other again and were once more
united under the yoke of Venus. What if golden-
haired Chloe were turned down, and the door of
his house once more opened to slighted Lydia?
To which Lydia, not less sly nor less sentimental,
makes reply: Though Horace is light as a cork
and fitful as the gusty Adriatic, yet for his
sake she would even dismiss the star-like Ca-
lais: for with Horace, her only true love, she
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THE JESTS OF CICERO'S COUNTRYMEN
would fain live; for him she would gladly
die.
Full of genuine humor, too, is Horace's account
of the millionaire's banquet, at which, in every
element of magnificence, Horace manages to find
some touch of vulgarity. Thus, when it was
found that the boar's head had been kept too long,
because the host had bought it a bargain earlier,
he suggests that it has some vague excellence be-
cause it was killed while the south wind blew,
having, therefore, a breath of Africa about it.
The servants who waited at the table were clothed
in purple, and one of the guests, Nomentanus,
was invited in order that he might point out any
excellent thing in danger of passing unobserved.
The tapestry suspended under the ceiling gave
way, and came down amid a cloud of dust, whereat
Nomentanus the flatterer bewailed, while Varius
smothered a laugh in his napkin. And so on,
throughout the whole portentous feast.
Juvenal followed in the footsteps of Horace,
writing satires on the life about him with a keen
and bitter wit. "What can I do at Rome?"
he asks, in his famous third satire. "I cannot lie;
I cannot praise a bad book and beg a copy; I
cannot cast horoscopes; I cannot promise a
father's death to his heir." Again he says,
"Dire poverty has no sharper sting than this,
that it makes a man ridiculous." But in another
satire he paints the contrasted picture of the
traveler with empty pockets laughing in the
bandit's face. There is a contemporary touch in
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WHY THE WORLD LAUGHS
his saying, "He who wishes to get rich, wishes
to get rich quick"; and he says elsewhere that
lost riches are lamented with true tears. Juvenal
has a sharp word-picture of the Greeks, whom he
seems to have respected as little as did Shakespeare,
for he calls them "a race pf comedians. If you
smile, your Greek friend shakes with laughter. If
he sees a tear in your eye, he weeps, though he is
indifferent. If you ask for a little fire in winter,
he pulls his cloak about him. If you complain
of the heat, he sweats."
Yet Roman literature is tremendously indebted
to the Greeks from its very beginning, and
especially in the matter of humor. For both
Plautus and Terence, who bear between them the
burden of Latin comedy, are wholly under Greek
influence, though they write in more rugged Latin.
Their people are Greek, their names are Greek,
their plots are Greek and, for the most part,
laid in Greece. But it is a Greece of degenerate
days, and, with much genuine humor, there is
much that is harsh and crude in their comedies.
Plautus has the more ingenious plots, and some
witty sayings, such as this, "Never in any age
was there such a wonder found as a taciturn
woman"; or this, "Man is a wolf to man." With
which one may contrast the German, "Ein
Mensch ist des andern Teufel." Plautus has the
sayings, "The flame is near the smoke"; "Man
proposes and God disposes"; "A friend in need is a
friend indeed"; and the suggestive image, "to
whiten ivory with ink." And from Terence one
204
THE JESTS OF CICERO'S COUNTRYMEN
may quote the immortal saw, " Lovers' quarrels
are a renewal of love." Terence also makes one
of his characters shrewdly say, "As usual, it hap-
pens that my ills reach your ears before your joys
reach mine"; and another says, "Thou knowest
the way of women; while they are drinking a year
passes." To Terence ' also must be accredited
this, "An old saying, and a true, 'Of all mankind,
each loves himself the best.' ?; He also says, "A
word to the wise is enough"; "Where there is
life, there is hope"; and uses the simile, "to harp
on the same string." Terence, too, tells us that
Venus grows cold without banquets and wine,
which is the old way of saying that, "When pov-
erty comes in at the door, love goes out by the
window."
So did these two old comedians write in Latin,
while they thought in Greek. For Latin was
always something too stolid and stiff for jesting;
and the days of Rome's decline have begun
before we find a return to genuine humor. I might
venture to suggest that something of the same
kind is true of the waning of Puritanism in this
country, and that the humorist and the malefactor
of great wealth appeared about the same time, were
it not that I fear to trespass on Signor Ferrero's
preserves.
So it happens, very naturally, that when the
later Romans allow themselves to jest they very
often jest in Greek, as Shakespeare so acutely
remarked of Cicero. And among these Greek-
jesting Latins there is none so amusing as Lucillius,
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WHY THE WORLD LAUGHS
who is, indeed, one of the wittiest of mankind.
Of his life not very much seems to be known,
though, happily, a great many of his jests are
still among the living. Rather mocking the great
epic poets, Lucillius says, " 'Of the Muses of
Helicon let us sing,' thus wrote Hesiod, while he
tended his sheep. ' Goddess, sing the anger of
Achilles/ and 'Sing, Muse, the man/ thus Homer
began his poems. I too must write a prelude.
What shall I write to begin my second book?
'Muses of Olympus, ye daughters of Zeus, I should
have been lost, had not Nero, a descendant of
Caesar, put up the cash."' So Lucillius, the jester,
was a debtor to Nero, the sentimental firelight
fiddler of Rome, the same who crucified Peter and
beheaded Paul.
Now to give a taste of Lucillius' s quality.
"Slanderers say, O Nicylla," he writes to a
fashionable though faded beauty, "that you dye
your hair black. It is false. It was black
when you bought it!"
To another lady he writes, " Demosthenis,
your mirror is false; if it were not, you would not
be willing to look into it."
Of a certain professional athlete Lucillius said,
"Eutychides was a slow runner on the course,
but if you invited him to dinner he sprinted."
Lucillius seems to have had a particular aversion
to a certain poor painter, Menestratus by name.
He is never tired of girding at him. "You
painted Deucalion, of the flood, and Phsethon, who
was scorched by the sun. Now you ask their
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I SHOULD HAVE BEEN LOST, HAD NOT NERO, A DESCENDANT OF CAESAR, PUT
UP THE CASH"
THE JESTS OF CICERO'S COUNTRYMEN
value. Well, Phsethon deserves fire, and Deucal-
ion water."
Hardly less sharp is this, " Asclepiades, the miser,
once saw a mouse in his house, and said, 'What
art thou doing, dearest mouse, in my house T
And the mouse, sweetly smiling, replied, Tear
not, friend. We seek from you, not food, but
lodging.' "
Here is an epigram even more personal, "As
you have such a face, Olympicus, go not near a
fountain nor any clear water; for, like Narcissus,
you will die if you see your reflection in the water."
Here is another pitiless little character sketch
in the same vein: " Hermocrates, the money-
lover, as he lay. dying, put his own name in his
will as heir. Then he began to reckon up how
much it would cost him, if he at length recovered
and had to reward the physician, and if he died
at once. He found that, in the latter case, he
would save a drachma. 'It is cheaper to die!'
he said, and straightway gave up the ghost."
But Lucillius is not always so friendly to the
physicians. "Not the flood of Deucalion," he
tells us, "nor Phsethon, who, driving the horses
of the sun too near, burned up the earth, have
destroyed so many as Potamo, the poet, and
Hermogenes, the surgeon. So that for each age
there has been its calamity: Deucalion, Phsethon,
Potamo, Hermogenes."
Lucillius thus taunts a cowardly warrior: "If
an army is to be raised, to fight against grass-
hoppers, or dog-flies, or the cavalry of fleas or
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WHY THE WORLD LAUGHS
frogs, then, Caius, thou art in danger of being
enrolled; but not if an army of brave men is
needed. The Romans are not going to fight
against cranes."
Lucillius, who has already peppered the doctors,
now pays his respects to his lawyer, who seems
to have dragged all the great names of antiquity
into his pleading in a petty theft. "I lost a little
pig/' says Lucillius, "and an ox and a she goat,
on account of which you, Menecles, received a
lawyer's fee. But neither has anything happened
in common to me and Othryades, nor do I lead
away any as thieves from Thermopylae; but we
have a case against Eutychides; so what has
Xerxes to do here, and what the Lacedaemonians?
But keep my case in mind, or I will cry out,
1 Menecles says some things; the little pigs say
other things!' '
Once more, a slap at the doctors; this time a
certain Doctor Dionysius, who, being invited to a
banquet, found one of his patients there, whom
he was treating for dyspepsia, and promptly
devoured all the good things to keep his patient
out of danger.
We have recently had an epidemic of dancers
who have presented to us, by their art, all kinds
of wonderful things. It would seem that in this,
too, to corroborate Signor Ferrero, modern Amer-
ica but repeats ancient Rome. And if we feel
inclined to satirize them, we have a model ready
to hand in Lucillius, who wrote of a dancer of his
day: " Although dancing entirely according to
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THE JESTS OF CICERO'S COUNTRYMEN
history, you have, by neglecting one thing of the
greatest moment, given me great pain. For, in
dancing the part of Niobe, you stood like a rock;
and again, while you were Capaneus, you fell down
on a sudden; but on the part of Canace, you acted
unnaturally, for, though there was a sword beside
you, you went off the stage alive. This was quite
contrary to the story. For Canace had at least
killed herself."
And here is a bitter enough word-picture of a
bad orator: " Pluto, god of the underworld, will
not receive Marcus, the orator, when he dies, for
he will say that Cerberus, the dog of Hades, is
enough for him; or perhaps he will say to Marcus,
' Go, make orations before the chief est sinners like
Ixion and Meliot, the lyric poet, and Tityus.
For I have no evil greater than you to punish them
with, until Rufus, the grammarian, arrives. " :
It would be hard to find in all literature any-
thing more bitterly witty than that.
In somewhat the same vein is Lucian, though
perhaps he is a shade more humane. Of his own
books, he says: "I, Lucian, wrote these, ac-
quainted with things old and foolish; for foolish,
indeed, are the things thought wise by mankind.
There is no wit in man to judge between them.
What fills you with wonder is for others some-
thing to laugh at."
It is easy enough, indeed, to laugh with Lucian.
What, for instance, could be more apt than this:
"Antiochus once saw the purse of Lysimachus.
Lysimachus never saw it again"?
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WHY THE WORLD LAUGHS
Again he says, somewhat in the spirit of old
Horace: "That poet is truly best who gives his
audience a supper. But if he merely reads his
poems and sends them home hungry, may he
turn his poetic frenzy against himself!"
Very witty, too, is this little anecdote which
Lucian tells, " Amongst all who were drunk,
Acindunus remained sober; therefore it was
thought that he got drunk when he was alone."
Here is an epigram of Lucian's which is as good
as anything in literature. Strictly speaking, per-
haps it is a conundrum: "0 goddess, who hatest
the poor and art the sole subduer of wealth, who
knowest rich living at all times, who delightest
to be supported on strange feet and wearest
slippers of felt and carest much for ointments!
Thee too a garland delights, and the liquor of
Ausonian Bacchus! But these things are never
within the reach of the poor. Therefore thou
fliest from the threshold of poverty and comest
with delight to the feet of the rich!"
The name of the goddess to which these praises
are addressed is Podagra, which, being interpreted,
is the Gout. For it is true that gout forsakes the
threshold of the poor and comes gladly to the feet
of the rich. We saw how Lucillius played on the
first lines of the Iliad and the Odyssey. Here is
something similar, and perhaps even wittier, from
Lucian. It is once more a dig at the doctors.
"A certain physician," says Lucian, "sent his
son to me to learn Greek grammar. He first
learned, 'Sing, Muse, the wrath of Achilles I'
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THE JESTS OF CICERO'S COUNTRYMEN
and then, 'He caused ten thousand sorrows to
the Greeks'; but after I had taught him, 'And he
sent untimely many souls to Hades/ his father
took him away, saying to me, 'Many thanks,
my friend, but my child can learn that at home.
For I myself send many souls untimely to Hades,
so I need no tutor for that!'
But perhaps the funniest thing Lucian ever
said is this: "A fool was bitten by many fleas.
He put out the light and said, 'Now you no
longer see me!' "
XVI
HOW LUCIUS MADE AN ASS OF HIMSELF
FIRST, metaphorically, then most literally. As
to the first mishap, Lucius, a likely young man
born in the Roman colony in Africa, had traveled
through classic Greece to Thessaly, famed, as
you must know, for witches. And, armed with a
letter of introduction, he had, on coming to a
certain Thessalian city, presented himself at the
home of one Milo, a considerable citizen, yet held
in contempt by his fellow Thessalians because he
was a notable usurer and a miser, to boot. The
grim, inhospitable spirit of Pamphile, Milo's
unattractive spouse, was, however, made up for,
in the mind of our young friend Lucius, by the
gentle charms of her young handmaiden Photis;
and here it was that Lucius came to grief.
But first let me relate another adventure that
befell him, in that same city of Thessaly, an ad-
venture at once tragical and ludicrous. As he
was walking in the market-place he observed a
fair and noble lady attended by many servants
and accompanied by her worthy and distinguished
husband. This good lady, it seems, was an old
friend of his mother's, a kinswoman, and, presently
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HOW LUCIUS MADE AN ASS OF HIMSELF
recognizing young Lucius, bade him come with
her to her house. There, in the garden before
the dwelling, he saw many beautiful things, statues
of fair Parian marble, winged victories tiptoe upon
globes surmounting pillars; rockwork adorned
with trailing vines, and many lovely things be-
sides. And inside the fair dame's mansion he
was delighted with choice banquets and costly
viands, which brought great solace to his heart.
Now it happened that, during the time of his
sojourn there, the people of that city held their
annual festival; one, indeed, that every city
would do well to imitate, for it was the festival
of the gods of laughter. To the celebration of
which, with due rites and ceremonies, Lucius all
unwillingly contributed. For, as he was wending
homeward his 'unsteady way from a too heady
banquet at his kindly kinswoman's mansion, at-
tended only by a single body-servant, it befell
that his lamp was blown out; and, the Thessalian
streets being in those days unlighted, he stumbled
along in the dark, striking his feet against stones;
and, being in great fear of robbers, of whom there
were many in the city and more in the hills, he
held his dagger in his hand, now and then brandish-
ing it, and so approached the house of Milo, the
usurer.
His heart stood still, as, crowded against the
door of the house, he saw three figures, evidently
the forms of robbers bent on making an entry;
and, crying out at them, he ran bravely toward
them, dagger in hand. So valiantly, indeed, did
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WHY THE WORLD LAUGHS
he smite that soon three lifeless bodies lay in the
dust before the house; and, the door being opened
to him by the tender and gentle handmaiden
Photis, he was soon wrapped in happy dreams.
Judge, then, his dismay when, rosy - fingered
Aurora having scarce left the chamber of Tithonus,
to tinge with light the eastern sky, he heard a
fierce knocking at the door, seconded with stern
and official-sounding shouts, and presently the
prefect's men burst in, and, having soundly
pummeled him in token of his arrest, hailed him
off bound to the theater, there to stand trial for
murder before the eyes of all. Terrified, trembling
in every limb, Lucius was dragged to the arena,
and, to his horror, saw that the benches were well
filled with a holiday throng gathered to make
a mock of his sufferings and death. And, to add
to this, there, on a broad bier, lay three forms out-
lined under a mantle of black, which unhappy
Lucius divined to be the bodies of his three victims
of the night before. And no sooner had the
lictors of the prefect dragged him into a prominent
place before the assembled multitude than the
public prosecutor appeared and began a harangue
as eloquent as it was merciless, calling on the judges
to strike at this foreigner who had taken the lives
of three young and noble citizens.
Then Lucius, feeling, as it were, that the hand
of justice was upraised to strike him, addressed
the assembly on his own behalf. He declared that
he had seen the three men, palpably robbers,
making a concerted and fierce attack on the house
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HOW LUCIUS MADE AN ASS OF HIMSELF
of Milo, his host; that he had ordered them to be
gone; and that they had refused, barbarous, blood-
thirsty villains that they were, but, on the contrary,
had made bold resistance.
" Their leader," he continued, pathetically,
"made at me with all his strength, caught me by
the hair with both hands, bent my body back-
ward, and would have smashed my skull with a
stone, which he called to his companions to give
him, had I not had the good-fortune to make a sure
thrust at him and overthrow him. Presently,
by a well-aimed blow at another, piercing through
his shoulder-blade, I killed him clinging to my
legs and biting my feet; and finally, as the third
was all abroad and rushing wildly upon me, I
ran him through the chest. And now, having
labored for the welfare of the public, having
vindicated the cause of peace, and having pro-
tected the house of my host, I should have imagined
myself deserving of public approbation rather
than punishment. Nor am I able to comprehend
why, because I was excited by a justifiable feeling
of vengeance against three terrible villains, I am
thus summoned to this place at all to clear myself
of the accusation. For nobody can prove I had
a motive to commit the crime I stand charged
with, either through the desire of booty or from
animosity to the deceased robbers, none of whose
faces did I ever see before this encounter."
But the more eloquently Lucius pleaded, the
more uncontrollably did the heartless Thessalians
laugh, till a new diversion against him was un-
15 215
WHY THE WORLD LAUGHS
expectedly created. Two women robed in funeral
black, and one of them carrying an infant in her
arms, came forward. The elder, weeping, declared
that she was the mother of the three youths thus
heartlessly murdered as they were returning
home through the streets; the other, saying she
was the widow of one of them, held up her infant
to the people and, her face streaming with tears,
begged them to avenge the loss of her husband,
the father of her child.
Then the judge, declaring that Lucius must be
put to the torture, to disclose the motive of his
most heinous crime and the names of his fellow-
criminals, ordered the rack to be brought, with
pincers and cruel machines for eliciting confession.
While Lucius was terrified and horror-struck at
these formidable appearances and his fears were
doubled at the sad idea of leaving the world with a
mutilated body, the elder of the two women, who
all the time had been disturbing the proceedings
of the court with her loud wailings, thus ad-
dressed the spectators:
"Most worthy citizens," said she, "I pray you
permit the dead bodies of my wretched sons to be
uncovered, in order that the contemplation of their
youth and beauty may instigate a just feeling of
indignation and stir up the people's rage in due
proportion to the crime, before you nail to the
cross that villain, their murderer."
The spectators assented to the proposal of the
old woman by acclamation, and the magistrate
accordingly ordered the dead bodies that lay on
216
HOW LUCIUS MADE AN ASS OF HIMSELF
the bier to be uncovered and the coverings
to be removed by Lucius himself, with his own
hands. In obedience to the commands, the
lictors, without more ado, compelled him to com-
ply. Unwilling to revive, as it were, his crime of
the day before by a fresh display, he resisted and
struggled a good deal, till at last they dragged
from his side by force the hand to be used for his
destruction. But when that hand, against his
will overcome by stern necessity and yielded re-
luctantly, was extended over the corpses and
withdrew the pall that concealed them, what a
wonderful sight did ill-starred Lucius behold!
For the corpses of the three murdered men were
nothing but three inflated wine -skins pierced
with the wounds he had inflicted in that terrible
battle of the night before. The audience roared
again with laughter, and at last Lucius recognized
that he had been made a sacrifice, albeit in-
voluntary, to the god of laughter on his festal
day.
Well had it been for Lucius if he had straight-
way departed from that hilarious city, turning his
back forever on its gates. But he was drawn
once more to the house of Milo, not so much by
the bonds of hospitality as by his fatal weakness
for Photis, the pretty, pink-armed handmaiden.
Photis, indeed, while she was cooking dainties
for him on the stove, was very bewitching; yet,
not content with this, she began presently to tell
him of other witchery, and Lucius listened avid,
never dreaming that he was destined once more
217
WHY THE WORLD LAUGHS
to make an ass of himself, this time in woeful
reality.
For Photis, as the terrifying shades of evening
fell about them, drew nearer to him, and, with
eyes big with fear, related to him that her mistress,
Pamphile, was the most skilful of Thessalian
witches; that she could darken the stars and put a
mist about the sun; and, worst of all, that she could
take on her strange forms of beasts or birds to
work her wicked will. And nay, that tender and
gentle handmaiden Photis assured young Lucius
that that very night, that very hour, her ominous
mistress Pamphile would doff humanity and
indue the plumage of a bird, that she might fly
forth from grim Milo's house and join a waiting
lover in the hills.
The eyes of young Lucius were big with fear,
big as Thessalian saucers, when, duly posted by
sweet Photis at a crevice in the wall, he saw
Pamphile enter on her necromantic rite. And,
since the wings of a dove would have ill befitted
such a one, he should have been the less surprised
when, shaking from her the habiliments of woman-
hood, she took from a coffer a small box of oint-
ment, one among many, and began to rub herself
therewith from head to foot. Presently she was
overtaken with tremblings and quiverings; and
there came forth on her diminished form the
members and plumage, not of a dove, but of an
owl, the very dress of stealth and piracy for such
a one as she. And, in a final wriggle having com-
pleted her metamorphosis, she beat her wings
218
HOW LUCIUS MADE AN ASS OF HIMSELF
upon the air, and, straightway rising, fluttered
forth, noiseless and menacing, from the open
window.
Lucius turned to gentle Photis, who had seen
all that he had seen, and not for the first time, yet
who was horror-struck at the gruesome spectacle,
and, such is the insatiable folly of youth, his one
desire, instantly expressed, was to go and do the
like. So, with such blandishments as pass cur-
rent among the young, he beguiled sweet Photis
to enter the chamber of her dread mistress and
thence to purloin for him the needed ointment,
so that he, too, on feathered pinions might fly
forth into the night seeking adventures.
Whether because her mind was confused and
fluttered by reason of his blandishments or of
malice prepense, for such is oft the feminine
heart, Photis, entering the magical chamber, seems
to have suffered some confusion in her choice; for,
when she returned to youthful Lucius bearing the
box of ointment, and he, too, doffing human cover-
ings, began to anoint himself, lo and behold, a
terrible misfortune! For there came forth upon
him no feathers of swift-gliding owl nor of any
bird, but, instead, coarse hair of grayish brown;
no wings appeared, but rather forelegs with small,
hard hoofs; and where there should have been the
tufted horn-feathers of the owl there were tufts,
indeed, but steadily elongated, till they were as
large as a man's hand; and where should have
been the tail-feathers of an owl there appeared
a tail, indeed, yet the tail of an ass.
219
WHY THE WORLD LAUGHS
Whether this dire result was brought about
by Photis, through treacherous intent, cannot
surely be proven, for man has often suffered like
metamorphosis at the hands of a maid; but sweet
Photis, for the love she bore young Lucius and
for the blandishments that had passed between
them, did hasten to make such amends as might
be, and whispered into one long and bristled ear
that, when he wished once more to take on human
likeness, the remedy was simple; he need only
make a diet, not of accustomed thistles, but of
roses, and hey, presto! the change would be
accomplished.
While she was in the act of caressing his soft
and velvety muzzle, shouts and the beating of
doors resounded without, and, perhaps incited
thereto by what had passed that morning in the
theater, in burst a band of veritable robbers in
search of the spoil of Milo, the usurer. Photis
vanished, but Lucius, the ass, remained, only too
conveniently for the robbers, for they presently
loaded him with the plunder of his host's house
and drove him forth with kicks and blows, seeking
to make eloquent protest in correctest Latinity,
yet getting no further than " hee-haw!"
That was, indeed, for him the beginning of
painful trials and sad, illuminating experiences
and pathetic failures. For, mindful of the secret
that fair Photis had whispered into his asinine
ear, he sought everywhere for a mouthful of roses
and could never take kindly to thistles or barley
straw. Once, while the robbers were on their way
220
HOW LUCIUS MADE AN ASS OF HIMSELF
back to their cave, he came almost within touch
of liberation; for the bandits drew up for rest
and incidental plunder at the cottage of a farmer
who in his garden had not only cabbages, but roses.
Lucius, for whom anything resembling the food
of his recent humanity was irresistible, went
avidly toward the cabbages, intending first to ap-
pease imperative hunger and then to betake him
to the rose-tree and renew his manly form. But
he hesitated and shrank back, constrained by
two reasons; first fear, because, while the robbers
might spare, though they belabored a four-legged
ass, they would assuredly fall unmercifully upon a
sudden-appearing biped; then bashfulness, because,
while sweet Photis had promised that the roses
would restore his form, she had said nothing at all
concerning clothes, and Lucius dreaded to find
himself there, stark and unclad in broad sun-
light.
The robbers took him to their cave, where,
waited on by a horribly hilarious old hag, they
banqueted on rich viands and counted their
plunder. Presently they were rejoined by another
section of the band, who haled to the cavern a
fair princess in bonds, whom they were holding
for ransom, having, most inhumanly, carried her
off from her very nuptials,, from the expectant
arms of her young bridegroom. Here Lucius,
although, or perhaps, because he was an ass, sought
romantic glory, and, the robbers being gone upon
a new foray, burst his leathern bridle, kicked the
old hag into insensibility, induced the captive
221
WHY THE WORLD LAUGHS
princess to mount his gray back, and made off down
the road for liberty.
Lucius, being truthful even though an ass, fails
not to record that, while they thus romantically
proceeded in a donkey's gallop down the roadway,
he often turned his tender muzzle, and, under
pretext of nozzling his own gray ribs, furtively
kissed the maiden's pretty feet. So they pro-
ceeded, happily enough, till they came to the high-
road and to a place where two ways met. There
discord arose between them, for the maiden,
naturally enough, wished to go to the right,
toward her home and the arms of her bridegroom,
while Lucius, though now an ass, having overheard
the robbers say that they were going that way,
dreaded their return and pulled violently in the
other direction. The maiden's pink heels were
unavailing to deflect him, nor were his best efforts
effectual to give her warning, for presently the
robbers came homeward, and, with dire threats
of punishment, bore both captives back to dur-
ance, or, rather, forced the one to bear the other.
Later, both escaped; and Lucius had many
adventures, dire or droll, in search of a breakfast
of roses, which, at last, he did attain at a certain
festival of goddess Isis, at the fair city of Cen-
chrse, six miles from Corinth. Nay, the goddess
herself appeared almost graciously to her asinine
worshiper, and not only promised him deliver-
ance, but made the way easy for him, even by a
dream directing her priest to hold out to the
imprisoned Lucius a garland of red roses, which
222
HOW LUCIUS MADE AN ASS OF HIMSELF
straightway worked his release. Another priest
handed him a linen tunic so swiftly that the
multitude scarce discerned the marvelous trans-
migration.
Such is the tale Apuleius tells, and I think it is
not so much a jest as an allegory of what befalls
many, instigated thereto by such as Photis, the
handmaiden, until such time as they find release
through Isis, lady of wisdom. Be this as it may,
such is the famed tale known to antiquity as "The
Golden Ass."
XVII
BOCCACCIO AND HIS KIN
HTHERE are many amusing things in Boccaccio,
1 so that one may say that he was the first of
modern men who heartily laughed. Yet I find
him somewhat difficult to quote. The truth is,
that many of his stories, while very funny in
their way, have something of a smoking-room
flavor; they are as broad as they are long, very
much broader even, sometimes.
But here is one, quite presentable, and, in its
way, funny enough. The tale is told by Fiametta,
who was, in truth, no " little flame," but the great
flame who kindled conflagration in Giovanni
Boccaccio's by no means asbestos heart. He
instructs us in much detail concerning their
loves, so that we have even an inventory of
caresses; but that is beside the point. The gold-
tressed lady relates that there was, in the fair
city of Florence, a youth called Michael Scalza,
who was the merriest and most agreeable fellow
in the world and had still the rarest stories in
hand, wherefore the young Florentines were ex-
ceedingly glad to have his company whenever they
made a pleasure party among themselves. It
224
BOCCACCIO AND HIS KIN
chanced one day, he being with certain folk at
Monte Ughi, that the question was started among
them of which was the best and noblest family of
Florence. Some said the Uberti, others the
Lamberti, and one this family, and another that,
according as it occurred to his mind; which Scalza
hearing, he fell a-laughing and said:
"Go to, what geese you are! You know not
what you say. The best gentlemen and the oldest,
not only of Florence, but of all the world or the
Maremma, are the great Hobo family, a matter
on which all the philosophers and every one who
knows them agree!"
When the young men who had looked for
quite another answer heard this, they jeered at
him and said, "Thou mockest us, as if we knew
not the Hoboes, even as thou dost."
"By the Writ," answered Scalza, "I mock you
not; nay, I speak the truth, and if there be any
here who will wage a supper on it, to be given
to the winner and half a dozen companions of his
choosing, I will willingly hold the wager; and I
will do yet more for you, for I will abide by the
judgment of whomsoever you will."
Said one of them, called Neri Mannini, "I am
ready to try to win the supper."
Whereupon, having agreed together to take
Piero di Fiorentino, in whose house they were, to
judge, they betook themselves to him, followed
by all the rest, who looked to see Scalza lose and
to make merry over his confusion; and they re-
counted to Piero all that had passed.
225
WHY THE WORLD LAUGHS
Piero, who was a discreet young man, having
first heard Neri's argument, turned to Scalza
and said to him, "And thou, how canst thou prove
this which thou affirmest?"
"How, sayest thou?" answered Scalza. "Nay,
I will prove it by such reasoning that not only
thou, but my opponent also will acknowledge
that I speak the truth! You know that the
ancienter men are, the nobler they are; and so it
was said but now among these. Now the Hoboes
are more ancient than any one else, so that they
are nobler; and if I can demonstrate that they are
the most ancient, I shall undoubtedly have won
my wager. You must know, then, that the Hoboes
were made by the Almighty Creator in the days
when He first began to draw ; but the rest of man-
kind were made after He knew how to draw.
And to assure yourselves that in this I say the
truth, do but consider the Hoboes in comparison
with other folk. Whereas you see all the rest of
mankind with faces well composed and duly pro-
portioned, you may see the Hoboes, this one with
a countenance very long and narrow, and that
with a face out of all measure broad; one has too
long and another too short a nose, and the third
has a chin jutting out and turned upward, and
huge jaw-bones that show, as though they were
those of an ass, while some there be who have one
eye bigger than the other, and yet some who have
one eye set lower than the other, like the faces
that children are accustomed to make when
first they begin to learn to draw. Wherefore, as I
226
BOCCACCIO AND HIS KIN
have already said, it is abundantly apparent that
the Almighty made them while He was learning
to draw; so that they are more ancient, and
consequently nobler, than the rest of mankind. "
At this, both Piero, who was the judge, and
Neri, who had wagered the supper, and all the
rest, hearing Scalza's comical argument and
bethinking themselves of the Hoboes, fell a-laugh-
ing and affirmed that he was right, for that the
Hoboes were assuredly the noblest and most
ancient gentlemen that were to be found, not in
Florence alone, but in the whole world and the
Maremma.
So much for the Decameron. Here is a tale
from the life of its author. It seems, says Boccac-
cio's biographer, that during the tune he was
writing it he found himself taken by a very beauti-
ful woman, a widow, who pretended to encourage
him, perhaps because of his fame, provoked his
advances, allured him to write to her, and then,
laughing at this middle-aged and obese lover,
gave his letters to her young favorite, who scat-
tered them about Florence. Boccaccio had al-
ready been hurt by the criticisms some had
offered on his work. This deception by the widow
exasperated him, his love for women turned to
loathing, and he now composed a sort of invective
against them, which was called the "Corbaccio,"
which seems to mean " the rap." The story is as
follows: A lover finds himself lost in the forest
of love, and is delivered by a spirit. The lover is
Boccaccio; the spirit is the husband of the widow,
227
WHY THE WORLD LAUGHS
who has returned from hell, where his avarice
and complaisance have brought him. In setting
Boccaccio in the right way, the spirit of the hus-
band reveals to him all the imperfections, artifices,
and defects, and the hidden vices and weaknesses
of his wife. "Had you seen her first thing in the
morning with her night-cap on," and so forth,
which suggests why Boccaccio is hard to quote.
But the jest is a bitter one, rather satire than
humor, and so somewhat wide of our mark.
In one of the stories of the Decameron Boccaccio
introduces Giotto, the painter, who, he says,
"had so excellent a genius that there was nothing
of all which Nature, mother and mover of all
things, presents unto us by the ceaseless revolution
of the heavens, but he with pencil and pen and
brush depicted it, and that so closely that not
like, nay, but rather the thing itself it seemed,
insomuch that men's visual sense is found to have
been oftentimes deceived, taking for real that
which was but feigned. Wherefore, he, having
brought back to the light this art, may deservedly
be called one of the chief glories of Florence."
The author of the Decameron was also the warm
life-long friend of Petrarca and the biographer of
Dante, so that he binds together the great men of
a great age. One of the contemporaries of Boc-
caccio has recorded this tale of Dante, which
is, perhaps, the closest approach the great poet
of the Divina Commedia ever made to a practical
joke.
One day, while Dante was passing the Gate of
228
BOCCACCIO AND HIS KIN
Saint Peter he heard a blacksmith beating iron
upon the anvil, and singing some of Dante's
verses like a song, jumbling the lines together and
confusing them, so that it seemed to Dante he was
receiving a great injury. He said nothing, but,
going into the blacksmith's shop, he took up his
hammer and pincers and scales and many other
things, and threw them out into the road.
The blacksmith, turning around upon him,
cried out, "What the deuce are you doing? Are
you mad?"
"What are you doing?" said Dante.
"I am working at my proper business," said
the blacksmith, "and you are spoiling my work,
throwing it out into the road."
Said Dante, "If you do not like me to spoil your
things, do not spoil mine."
"What things of yours am I spoiling?" said the
man.
And Dante replied, "You are singing something
of mine, but not as I made it. I have no other
trade but this, and you spoil it for me."
The blacksmith, too proud to acknowledge his
fault, but not knowing how to reply, gathered up
his things and returned to his work; and when he
sang again, sang "Tristram and Launcelot," and
let Dante alone.
Which is at least mildly funny. So much for
the thirteen hundreds in Italy. In the early
fifteen hundreds Vasari was born, and in due
time began to write his stories of the great Italian
artists, who are still Italy's glory. He records
229
WHY THE WORLD LAUGHS
some humorous things, for instance this, of
Michael Angelo. A certain painter, says Vasari,
had a picture wherein was an ox which looked
better than the rest. Michael Angelo Buonarotti,
being asked why the painter had made it more
life-like than the rest, replied, " Every painter
succeeds best in a portrait of himself."
Another painter, Vasari continues, had exe-
cuted a historical picture in which every figure
was copied from some other artist, insomuch
that no part of the picture was his own. It was
shown to Michael Angelo Buonarotti, who, when
he had seen it, was asked by a very intimate
friend of his what he thought of it.
He replied, "He has done well, but at the Day
of Judgment, when all bodies will resume their
own limbs again, I do not know what will become
of that historical picture, for there will be nothing
left of it.' 7
Baldassarre Castiglione, a generation earlier,
has some good things, such as this. The Bishop
of Corvia, he says, in order to find out the inten-
tions of the Pope, one day said to him: "Holy
father, it is commonly reported in all Rome, and
even in the palace, that your Holiness is about
to make me governor."
The Pope replied, "Never mind what they say:
they are nothing but low-tongued rascals."
The same writer records that a certain pleader,
to whom his adversary said, "What art thou
barking for?" replied, "Because I see a thief."
Again, he says, as Duke Frederic of Urbina
230
BOCCACCIO AND HIS KIN
was one day talking of what was to be done with a
large quantity of earth which had been dug up in
order to lay the foundation of his palace, an abbot
who was present said:
"My lord, I have been thinking where it should
be put, and I have a good idea: order a great ditch
to be dug, and you may there dispose of the earth
without further hindrance."
The duke replied, not without a smile, "What
are we to do with the earth which will be dug from
this new ditch?"
The abbot answered, "Let it be made big
enough to hold both."
And thus, although the duke tried to show him
that the larger the ditch the more earth would be
dug out of it, he could not understand that it could
not be made large enough to contain both heaps,
but only replied, "Make it so much the larger."
Here is a little fable, somewhat in Lucian's
vein. Jove having one day drunk more nectar
than usual and being in a pleasant humor, the
fancy took him to make some present to mankind.
And, having called Momus, the god of laughter,
he gave him what he had decided upon, packed in
a portmanteau, and sent him down to the earth.
"Oh!" cried Momus, when he arrived in a
chariot, to the human race, "Oh, truly blessed
generation! Behold how Jove, liberal of his
benefits toward you, opens his generous hand!
Come, hasten, receive! Never complain again
that he has made you short-sighted. His gift
quite compensates you for this defect."
16 231
WHY THE WORLD LAUGHS
So saying, he unfastened the portmanteau and
emptied out of it an enormous heap of pairs of
spectacles. Behold, then, the whole of mankind
busy picking them up; every man has his pair
all are content, and thank Jove for having ac-
quired so excellent an aid to their eyesight. But
the spectacles caused them to see things under a
deceitful appearance. To one man a thing seems
blue, while another sees it yellow, one thinks it is
white, and another black; so that to every one
it appears different.
But what of that? Every individual was de-
lighted with his pair and quite taken up with it,
and insisted on its being the best. My dear
friends, we are the heirs of these people, and the
spectacles have come to us as our heritage. Some
see things one way, and some another, and every
one thinks he is right.
Yet another tale of Dante, to end the record
of the great time. The author of the Divina
Commedia, meditating apart one day in the church
of Santa Maria Novella, was accosted by a bore,
who asked him many foolish questions. After
vainly endeavoring to get rid of him, Dante at
last said, " Before I reply to thee do thou tell me
the answer to a certain question/' and then
asked him, " Which is the greatest of all beasts ?"
The gentleman replied that, on the authority
of Pliny, he believed it to be the elephant.
Then said Dante, "O elephant, leave me in
peace!" and, so saying, he turned and left him.
XVIII
THE MUSICAL LAUGHTER OF ITALY
A FLORENTINE writer of children's stories
is responsible for this little tale.
"Do tell me, mamma, what is the difference
between l authentic news 7 and ' various news 7 ?"
" 'Authentic/ " replies his mother, "is what
really happens, and ' various' is what the journal-
ists make up to fill the paper. Be very careful
to tell the truth; if you don't, you will go to
purgatory for seventy years, and in this world
every one will take you for a journalist!"
An industrious gentleman, to whom all lovers
of Italian humor are indebted, has made a collec-
tion of the little things which the journalists of the
land of Dante invent "to fill the paper," and from
these I venture to cull a wreath of flowers.
Take, for instance, this tale of a fond father,
whose little son was begging him to buy him a tin
trumpet.
"No, I won't," cried his father; "I don't want
to have my head split by your noise!"
"Oh no, papa! I should only blow it when you
were asleep!"
A customer at a Neapolitan restaurant, osten-
233
WHY THE WORLD LAUGHS
tatiously sniffing at his plate, addressed the
waiter:
"I say, waiter, this fish isn't fresh I"
"Oh yes, it is, sir!"
"What? I assure you it smells high."
The waiter replied confidentially, "No, sir,
you're mistaken; it's that other gentleman's
cutlet."
./"At a Roman cafe some one asked, "Excuse me,
sir; does the Daily appear every day?"
The grave man thus interrogated replied, in a
solemn and professional manner, not without a
sting of bitter irony :
"Of course, sir. You might have seen that by
the very title of the paper."
"Then, sir, on your principle the Century
should only appear once every hundred years."
Said Amico to Beluomo: "The intelligence of
animals is something extraordinary. For example,
my dog, Fido, is a wonderfully clever fellow.
When I am staying in the country I send him to
the nearest village, and he executes all the com-
missions I give him better than any servant."
Said Beluomo in reply: "Well, I have seen
stranger things than that in India. I knew an
old elephant to whom every evening they used to
give orders for the next day's purchases; and, as his
memory was not quite what it used to be, the in-
telligent animal always tied a knot in his trunk,
so as to be sure not to forget."
Gennaro, of Naples, said one day to a friend,
"I receive an immense number of anonymous
234
THE MUSICAL LAUGHTER OF ITALY
letters which are quite insulting; I despise them
too much to let it vex me. When / lower myself
so far as to write anonymous letters, I always
I sign them."
^ / Said a Venetian recruit to his corporal, "If
I told you you were an ass, what would you do,
sir?"
Said the corporal, "I should put you under
arrest."
"And if I only thought it?"
"Then, of course, I could do nothing. For
thoughts are invisible, and cannot be brought in
evidence
"Well, I am thinking it!"
A person who had made a large fortune by con-
verting best Virginia peanuts into pure olive-oil,
in giving an invitation to dinner to a celebrated
violinist, who had just given a concert at the
house of a banker, said to him with intentional
carelessness :
"Oh, by the by, you will bring your violin,
won't you?"
"Thank you," replied the artist, "but my violin
never dines out."
A brave captain, at the manoeuvers in Tuscany,
said, "I want all the corporals to give the word of
command together!"
A moment later there was a general and vigorous
shout of "Shoulder arms!"
The captain cried out furiously, "I hear several
corporals saying nothing at all!"
A well-known artist in Milan suffers horribly
235
1
WHY THE WORLD LAUGHS
from corns. His toes are so sensitive that he
cries out when they are hardly touched. It has
gone so far that, when he steps on his own boots
which he has just put out to be cleaned, he imagines
that his feet are inside, and yells, like one pos-
sessed :
"Ah-h-h! Rhinoceros! Look where you are
stepping!"
In the Naples police court, a witness was once
asked where he lived.
"With Gennaro," he replied.
"And where does Gennaro live?"
"With me."
"But where do you and Gennaro live?"
"Together."
An elegant young Florentine had been spending
money right and left, so that he found himself
unable to pay his hotel bill. Knowing that his
father was perfectly hopeless, he determined to
apply to his uncle, a blood relative, be it under-
stood, not a Lombard. So he wrote as follows:
"Dear Uncle, If you could see how I blush
with shame while I am writing, you would pity
me. For I have to ask you for a hundred francs,
and do not know how to overcome my unwilling-
ness. . . . No, it is impossible. ... I prefer to
die! ... I send you this by a messenger, who will
await your answer. Believe me, my dearest
uncle, your most obedient nephew.
"P.S. Overcome with shame for what I have
written, I have been running after the messenger
to take my letter back, but I could not catch
236
THE MUSICAL LAUGHTER OF ITALY
him. Heaven grant that something may happen
to stop him, or that the letter may be lost!"
The uncle was a man of heart. After pondering
the letter he replied :
"My beloved Nephew, Console yourself, and
blush no longer. Providence has heard your
prayers. The messenger lost your letter. Your
affectionate uncle."/
Which is why, perhaps, a certain wise man has
said that Italian humor is Irish humor pitched in
the minor key. There is, indeed, something
Hibernian in the following popular tale.
Tesetto was very angry with Zerbo, the
physician, when Zerbo said to him: "Hold your
tongue, you scoundrel ! Don't I know your father
was a bricklayer?"
Tesetto immediately replied, "No one could
have told you that but your own father, who
carried the bricks and mortar for him."
This little story also somehow suggests an Irish
handmaiden.
Said her mistress, "Rosa, did you count the
silver last night?"
"Yes'm; there's a fork and a spoon short!"
"Do you know where they are?"
"Yes'm; under the kitchen table."
It is right that Italy, which gives us the vo-
cabulary of music, and so many gifted musicians,
should contribute the best jests at their expense.
In this sort nothing is funnier than what has been
written by Antonio Ghislanzoni, the librettist of
Verdi's "Aida," himself a musician of excellent
237
WHY THE WORLD LAUGHS
parts. For certain passages thereof, I am in-
debted to Werner's admirable volume.
Writing of music-makers, and transforming
the ancient proverb, "Tell me who your friends
are, and I will tell you who you are," into "Tell
me what instrument you blow into or scrape on,
and I will tell you your fortune/ 7 he begins:
"The clarinet consists of a severe cold in the
head, contained in a tube of yellow wood. A
chiropodist may be produced by study and hard
work, but the clarinet - player is born, not made.
The citizen predestined to the clarinet has an
intelligence which is almost obtuse up to the age
of eighteen, an epoch of incubation, when he
begins to feel in his nose the first thrills of his
fatal vocation. Then his intellect, limited even
then, ceases its development altogether; but his
nasal organ, by compensation, assumes colossal
proportions. At twenty he buys his first clarinet
for fourteen francs; and three months later his
landlord gives him notice. At twenty-five he is
admitted into the band of the National Guard.
He dies of a broken heart on finding that not one
of his three sons shows the slightest inclination
for the instruments into which he has blown
all his wits.
"The man who plays the trombone/' pursues
our wit, "is always one who seeks oblivion in its
society, oblivion of domestic troubles, or consola-
tion for love betrayed. The man who has held a
metal tube in his mouth for six months finds him-
self proof against every disillusion. At the age of
238
THE MUSICAL LAUGHTER OF ITALY
fifty he finds that, of all human passions, nothing
is left him but an insatiable thirst. Later on, if
he wishes to obtain the position of porter in a
gentleman's house or aspires to the hand of a
woman with a delicate ear, he tries to lay aside
his instrument, but the taste for loud notes and
strong liquors only leaves him with life. Finally,
after a harmonious career of seventy-eight years,
he is likely to die of grief because the saloon-
keeper will not give him a glass of wine on
credit.
"The accordeon is the first instrument of youth
and innocent hearts. He who is fated thereto
begins playing it in the back room of his father's
shop, the latter, as a rule, being a chemist by
profession, and continues it up to the age of fifteen.
At this period, if he does not die, he deserts the
accordeon for the harmonium. This instrument,
by reasons of its monotonous sounds and its
tremendous plaintiveness, acts on the nerves of
those who hear, and predisposes those who play
it to melancholy. The harmonium - player is
usually tender and lymphatic of constitution,
with blue eyes, and eats only white meats and
farinaceous foods. If a man, he is called Oscar; if
of the fairer sex, she is named Adelaide. At home
he or she is in the habit of playing after dinner,
the spirits of the family being, therefore, more or
less cheerfully disposed, and will entertain the
family with the 'Miserere' or 'II Trovatore/ or
some similar melody. The harmonium - player
weeps easily. After practising on the instrument
239
WHY THE WORLD LAUGHS
for fifteen years or so, he or she dissolves alto-
gether, and is converted into a rivulet.
"The organ is a complicated and majestic instru-
ment of a clerical character, and is destined, by its
great volume of sound, to drown the flat singing
of the clergy and the congregation in church. The
organist is usually a person sent into the world
with the vocation for making a great noise without
undue expenditures of strength; one who wants
to blow harder than others without wearing out
his own bellows. He makes a kind and good-tem-
pered husband. At the age of sixty he becomes
deaf, and then begins to think his own playing
perfection. At seventy he usually dies of a
broken heart, because a new priest, who knows
not Joseph, instead of asking him to dine at the
principal table with the ecclesiastics and other
church authorities, has relegated him to an inferior
place with the sacristan and the grave-digger.
"The unhappy man who succumbs to the fascina-
tions of the flute is never one who has attained the
full development of his intellectual faculties. He
always has a pointed nose, marries a short-sighted
woman, and dies run over by an omnibus. The
man who plays the flute frequently adds to his
other infirmities a mania for keeping tame weasels,
turtle-doves, or guinea-pigs.
"To play the 'cello, you require to have long,
thin fingers; but it is still more indispensable to
have very long hair falling over a greasy coat-
collar. In case of fire, the 'cellist will save his
'cello first, and then his wife. His greatest satis-
240
HE CAN EXPRESS ALL POSSIBLE GRIEFS AND SORROWS
THE MUSICAL LAUGHTER OF ITALY
faction is that of ' making the strings weep/
Sometimes he makes his wife and family do the
same, because of the leanness of the larder. He
can express through his loftily attuned strings
all possible griefs and sorrows except those of his
audience and his creditors/'
This gifted gentleman, half barytone, half
journalist, had a pretty wit; and we can find
present application in the saying, "How many old
phrases are required to make a new electoral pro-
gramme!"
There is grace, too, in the little story of the
sausage-maker, whose boy came weeping home
from school.
"As usual," exclaimed the parent, "I suppose
you did not know your lessons, and the teacher
called you an ass, as you deserved!"
"Ye-yes!" replied the sobbing child, "he did
call me an ass, and then
"Well, what then?"
"He said, 'Well, after all it is no wonder;
like father, like child!' "
XIX
DON QUIXOTE AND THE HUMOR OF SPAIN
IS Don Quixote funny? I have been putting
the question to my friends. Some of them say
that, while the lean knight appeals irresistibly to
them, they never wish to laugh a him; they
laugh with him, perhaps, but, even more, they
respect and love him. One friend tells me that he
finds the by-play genuine comedy; the talks be-
tween the worthy Don and the plump Sancho Panza
arouse in him the inclination to laugh, though he
may get no farther than a gentle smile. Another
friend, who has loved Cervantes's hero for years,
touched my heart by saying that the nobility
and pathos of Don Quixote bring tears rather
than laughter; yet I do not think this would debar
the book from a claim to genuine humor.
One may with good reason doubt whether the
knight-errant of La Mancha was at first intended
to be matter of laughter; one may go farther,
and doubt whether Cervantes, for all his protesta-
tions, had any defined purpose at all in creating
him, his genius leaning over his shoulder and
guiding the pen; and one may be deeply con-
vinced that Don Quixote was all the better for
242
DON QUIXOTE AND THE HUMOR OF SPAIN
that. But let us test the matter. Let us take,
for example, the most famous incident in the
whole history, the episode of the windmills.
Don Quixote in his rusty armor, with patched
helmet and borrowed buckler, is mounted on the
lean and whimsical Rosinante. Sancho Panza,
fat, talkative, timorous, follows, with saddle-bag
and wine-skins, on the back of the amiable Dapple.
In the oblique rays of the dawn, they are going
southward toward the Sierra Morena, crossing the
famous Campo de Montiel. The talk turns on
the rewards of knight-errants and their squires,
and the possible promotion of Sancho 's good, rustic
spouse when her husband, from squire to the
knight, shall have become governor of the prom-
ised island.
At this point they came in sight of thirty or forty
windmills that there are on that plain, and as soon
as Don Quixote saw them, he said to his squire :
" Fortune is arranging matters better than we
could have shaped our desires ourselves, for
look here, friend Sancho Panza, where thirty or
more monstrous giants present themselves, all of
whom I mean to engage in battle and slay, and
with whose spoils we shall begin to make our for-
tunes; for this is righteous warfare, and it is God's
good service to sweep so evil a brood from off the
face of the earth/'
"What giants?" said Sancho Panza.
"Those thou seest there," answered his master
"with the long arms, and some have them nearly
two leagues long."
243
WHY THE WORLD LAUGHS
"Look, your Worship/ 7 said Sancho; "what we
see there are not giants, but windmills; and what
seem to be their arms are the sails turned by the
wind that make the millstone go."
"It is easy to see/ 7 replied Don Quixote,
"that thou art not used to this business of adven-
tures; those are giants; and if thou art afraid,
away with thee out of this, and betake thyself to
prayer while I engage them in fierce and unequal
combat."
So saying, he gave the spur to his steed Rosi-
nante, heedless of the cries his squire Sancho sent
after him, warning him that most certainly they
were windmills, and not giants, he was going to
attack. He, however, was so positive they were
giants that he neither heard the cry of Sancho
nor perceived, near as he was, what they were,
but made at them shouting, "Fly not, cowards
and vile beings, for it is a single knight that
attacks you."
A slight breeze at this moment sprang up, and
the great sails began to move, seeing which
Don Quixote exclaimed, "Though ye flourish more
arms than the giant Briareus, ye have to reckon
with me."
So saying and commending himself with all
his heart to his Lady Dulcinea, imploring her to
support him in such a peril, with lance in rest and
covered with his buckler, he charged at Rosinante's
fullest gallop and fell upon the first mill that stood
in front of him; but as he drove his lance-point
into the sail the wind whirled it round with such
244
DON QUIXOTE AND THE HUMOR OF SPAIN
force that it shivered the lance to pieces, sweeping
with it horse and rider, who went rolling over on
the plain in a sorry condition. Sancho hastened
to his assistance as fast as his ass could go, and
when he came up found him unable to move, with
such a shock had Rosinante fallen with him.
"God bless me!" said Sancho. "Did I not tell
your Worship to mind what you were about, for
they were only windmills? And no one could
have made any mistake about it but one who had
something of the same kind in his head."
"Hush, friend Sancho!" replied Don Quixote.
"The fortunes of war, more than any other, are lia-
ble to frequent fluctuations ; and, moreover, I think,
and it is the truth, that that same sage Friston, who
carried off my study and books, has turned these
giants into windmills in order to rob me of the
glory of vanquishing them, such is the enmity
he bears me; but in the end his wicked arts will
avail but little against my good sword."
"God order it as He may," said Sancho Panza;
and, helping him to rise, got him up again on
Rosinante, whose shoulder was half out; and then,
discussing the late adventure, they followed the
road to Puerto Lapice, for there, said Don Quixote,
they could not fail to find adventures in abundance
and variety.
Well, gentle reader, how is it with you? Have
you been moved to laughter by the famed ad-
venture of the windmills? But I think there is a
far more humorous episode a little farther on in
this eventful history.
245
WHY THE WORLD LAUGHS
The lean knight and the fat squire, mounted on
the inseparable Rosinante and Dapple, fared
forth on the great sunlit highway of the south,
and in due time encountered the strange adventures
of the battle with the Biscayan, the inn which the
Don took to be an enchanted castle, where Sancho
was tossed in the blanket and many other wonders
befell. After the fierce battle of the funeral
cortege, when the tumult and the shouting had
died away, Sancho said to one of the company:
"If by chance these gentlemen should want to
know who was the hero that served them so, your
Worship may tell them that he is the famous Don
Quixote of La Mancha, otherwise called the Knight
of the Rueful Countenance."
Don Quixote presently asked Sancho what had
induced him to call him the "Knight of the Rueful
Countenance" more then than at any other time.
"I will tell you," answered Sancho; "it was be-
cause I have been looking at you for some time
by the light of the torch held by that unfortunate,
and verily your Worship has got of late the most
ill-favored countenance I ever saw: it must be
either owing to the fatigue of this combat or else
to the loss of your teeth."
"It is not that," replied Don Quixote, "but
because the sage whose duty it will be to write
the history of my achievements must have thought
it proper that I should take some distinctive name,
as all knights of yore did; one being 'He of the
Burning Sword,' another 'He of the Unicorn/
this one 'He of the Damsels/ that 'He of the
246
DON QUIXOTE AND THE HUMOR OF SPAIN
Phoenix/ another 'The Knight of the Griffin/
and another 'He of the Death/ and by these
names and designations they were known all the
world round; and so I say that the sage afore-
mentioned must have put it in your mouth and
mind just now to call me 'The Knight of the
Rueful Countenance/ as I intend to call myself
from this day forward; and that the same name
may fit me better I mean, when the opportunity
offers to have a very rueful countenance painted
on my shield."
" There is no occasion, Senor, for wasting time
or money on that countenance/' said Sancho,
"for all that need be done is for your Worship to
show your own, face to face, to those who look at
you, and without anything more, either image or
shield, they will call you 'Him of the Rueful
Countenance': and believe me I am telling the
truth, for I assure, Senor (and in good part be it
said), hunger and the loss of your grinders have
given you such an ill-favored face that, as I say,
the rueful picture may be very well spared."
Don Quixote laughed at Sancho's pleasantry;
nevertheless he resolved to call himself by that
name and have his shield or buckler painted as
he had devised. They made their way toward
the mountains; and, after proceeding some little
distance between two hills, they found themselves
in a wide and retired valley, where they alighted,
and Sancho unloaded his beast and stretched upon
the green grass; with hunger for sauce, they break-
fasted, dined, lunched, and supped all at once,
17 247
WHY THE WORLD LAUGHS
satisfying their appetites with more than one store
of cold meat which the dead man's clerical gentle-
men (who seldom put themselves on short al-
lowance) had brought with them on their sumpter
mule.
But another piece of ill luck befell them,
which Sancho held the worst of all, and that was
that they had no wine to drink, nor even water
to moisten their lips; and as thirst tormented
them, Sancho, observing that the meadow where
they were was full of green and tender grass, said :
"It cannot be, Senor, but that this grass is a
proof that there must be hard by some spring or
brook to give it moisture, so it would be well done
to move a little farther on, that we may find some
place where we may quench this terrible thirst
that plagues us, which, beyond a doubt, is more
distressing than hunger."
The advice seemed good to Don Quixote, and,
he leading Rosinante by the bridle and Sancho,
the ass, by the halter, after he had packed away
upon him the remains of the supper, they ad-
vanced up the meadow feeling their way, for the
darkness of the night made it impossible to see
anything; but they had not gone two hundred
paces when a loud noise of water, as if falling from
great, high rocks, struck their ears. The sound
cheered them greatly; but, halting to make out by
listening from what quarter it came, they heard
unseasonably another noise which marred the
satisfaction the sound of the water gave them,
especially for Sancho, who was by nature timid and
248
DON QUIXOTE AND THE HUMOR OF SPAIN
faint-hearted; they heard, I say, strokes falling
with a measured beat and a certain rattling of
iron and chains that, together with the furious
din of the water, would have struck terror into
any heart but Don Quixote's. The night was,
as has been said, dark, and they had happened to
reach a spot among some tall trees, whose leaves,
stirred by a gentle breeze, made a low, ominous
sound ; so that, what with the loneliness, the place,
the darkness, the noise of the water, and the
rustling of the leaves, everything inspired awe and
dread; more especially as they perceived that the
strokes did not cease, nor the wind lull, nor morn-
ing approach; to all which might be added their
ignorance as to where they were. But Don
Quixote, supported by his intrepid heart, leaped
on Rosinante, and, bracing his buckler on his arm,
brought his pike to the slope, and said :
" Friend Sancho, know that I, by Heaven's will,
have been born in this our iron age to revive in it
the age of gold. Thou dost mark well, faithful
and trusty squire, the gloom of this night, its
strange silence, the dull, confused murmur of those
trees, the awful sound of that water, in quest of
which we came, that seems as though it were
dashing itself down from the mountains of the
moon, and that incessant hammering that wounds
and pains our ears; which things, all together and
each of itself, are enough to instil fear, dread, and
dismay into the breast of Mars himself. Well,
then, all this I put before thee is but an incentive
and stimulant to my spirit, making my heart burst
249
WHY THE WORLD LAUGHS
in my bosom through eagerness to engage in this
adventure, arduous as it promises to be; therefore
tighten Rosinante's girths a little, and God be
with thee! Wait for me here three days, and no
more, and if in that time I come not back, thou
canst return to our village, and thence, to do me a
favor and a service, thou wilt go to El Toboso,
where thou shalt say to my incomparable Lady
Dulcinea that her captive knight hath died in
attempting things that might make him worthy of
being called hers!"
But timorous, sly Sancho would by no means
tighten the girths or allow his master to leave him
in the dread dark; indeed, by guile, he hobbled
the foreleg of Rosinante, and then, when the
gaunt beast could not move, persuaded the Don
that witchcraft and the might of his enemies, the
enchanters, were the cause of it; and so they await-
ed the dawn, the one dauntless, the other shivering.
Dawn brought the climax to a night of horrors,
and they began to move toward that quarter
whence the sound of the water and of the strokes
seemed to come. Advancing some distance
through the shady chestnut-trees, they came upon
a little meadow at the foot of some high rocks,
down which a mighty rush of water flung itself.
They went, it might be, a hundred paces farther,
when, on turning a corner, the true cause, beyond
the possibility of any mistake, of that dread-
sounding and to them awe-inspiring noise that
had kept them all the night in such fear and
perplexity, appeared plain and obvious; and it
250
DON QUIXOTE AND THE HUMOR OF SPAIN
was (if, reader, thou art not disgusted and dis-
appointed) six fulling hammers which, by their
alternate strokes, made all the din.
When Don Quixote perceived what it was, he
was struck dumb and rigid from head to foot.
Sancho glanced at him and saw him with his head
bent down upon his breast in manifest mortifica-
tion; and Don Quixote glanced at Sancho and
saw him with his cheeks puffed out and his mouth
full of laughter, and evidently ready to explode
with it, and in spite of his vexation he could not
help laughing at the sight of him; and when
Sancho saw his master begin, he let go so heartily
that he had to hold his sides with both hands to
keep himself from bursting with laughter. Four
times he stopped, and as many times did his
laughter break out afresh with the same violence
as at first, above all when he heard him say mock-
ingly, "Thou must know, friend Sancho, that of
Heaven's will I was born in this our iron age to
revive in it the age of gold."
To me, gentle reader, the whole of this episode,
from which I have but gathered purple patches,
is the funniest thing in the book; I like it best
because it shows the beloved Don possessed not
only of knightly valor and gentleness, but also of
a sense of humor. Here we laugh with him, rather
than at him, which is the essence of true humor.
Therefore, I hold that this is one of the best in-
cidents in the whole literature of humor, one of
the most laughable, and at the same time one of
the most humane.
251
XX
AN ASININE STORY
A LEADING metropolitan daily has recently, in
all seriousness, discussed the question why all
Chinamen are funny. I have heard it debated
among smug and stiff-necked Saxons, why the
mere presence of an Irishman is an incentive to
mirth. May I, without peril from the association
of ideas and names, venture to pose a problem
of far more ancient date : Why is it that the harm-
less, necessary ass, who is the very embodiment
of long-suffering wisdom, should for ages have
been deemed a comic personage? I venture to
say that the mere appearance of his name in the
title of this tale has already made you smile;
indeed, I counted on that when I chose the title.
But at the same time I am convinced that neither
you nor I could tell the reason why. Be that as it
may, I must lay philosophizing aside and come to
the story, which runs thus:
" You must know/' said the narrator, "that in a
village four and a half leagues from this inn it so
happened that one of the village treasurers, by
the tricks and roguery of a servant-girl of his
(it's too long a tale to tell), lost an ass: and though
252
AN ASININE STORY
he did all he possibly could to find it, it was all to
no purpose.
" A fortnight might have gone by," so the story
goes, " since the ass had been missing, when, as
the treasurer who had lost it was standing in the
plaza, another treasurer of the same town said to
him:
"'Pay me for good news, friend; your ass has
turned up/
"'That I will, and well, friend/ said the other.
'But tell us, where has he turned up?'
"'In the forest/ said the finder; 'I saw him this
morning without pack-saddle or harness of any
sort, and so lean that it went to one's heart to
see him. I tried to drive him before me and bring
him to you, but he is already so wild and shy that
when I went near him he made off into the thickest
part of the forest. If you have a mind that we
two should go back and look for him, let me put up
this she ass at my house and I'll be back at
once.'
"'You will be doing me a great kindness/ said
the owner of the ass, 'and I'll try to pay it back
in the same coin.'
"It is with all these circumstances, and in the
very same way I am telling it now, that those
who know all about the matter tell the story.
11 Well, then, the two treasurers set off on foot,
arm in arm, for the forest ; and, coming to the place
where they hoped to find the ass, they could not
find him, nor was he to be seen anywhere about,
search as they might. Seeing, then, that there
253
WHY THE WORLD LAUGHS
was no sign of him, the treasurer who had seen him
said to the other:
"'Look here, friend; a plan has occurred to me
by which, beyond a doubt, we shall manage to
discover the animal, even if he is stowed away in
the bowels of the earth, not to say the forest.
Here it is. I can bray to perfection, and if you
can ever so little, the thing's as good as done/
"'Ever so little did you say, friend?' said the
other. 'By heaven, I'll not yield to anybody, not
even to the asses themselves.'
"'We'll soon see/ said the second treasurer,
'for my plan is that you should go one side of
the forest, and I the other, so as to go all round
about it; and every now and then you will bray,
and I will bray; and it cannot be but the ass
will hear us and answer us if he is in the
forest.'
"To which the owner of the ass replied, 'It's
an excellent plan, I declare, friend, and worthy of
your great genius'; and, the two separating as
agreed, it so fell out that they brayed almost at
the same moment, and each, deceived by the
braying of the other, ran to look, fancying the
ass had turned up at last. When they came in
sight of one another, said the loser:
'"Is it possible, friend, that it was not my ass
that brayed?'
"'No, it was I,' said the other.
"'Well, then, I can tell you, friend,' said the
ass's owner, 'that between you and an ass there's
not an atom of difference as far as braying goes,
254
AN ASININE STORY
for I never in all my life saw or heard anything
more natural.'
'" Those praises and compliments belong to
you more justly than to me, friend/ said the in-
ventor of the plan; 'for, by the Creator who
made me, you might give a couple of brays odds
to the best and most finished brayer in the world;
the tone you have got is deep, your voice is well
kept up as to time and pitch, and your finishing
notes come thick and fast; in fact, I own myself
beaten, and yield the palm to you, and give in to
you in this rare accomplishment/
"'Well then,' said the owner, 'I'll set a higher
value on myself for the future, and consider that
I know something, as I have an excellence of some
sort; for though I always thought I brayed well,
I never supposed I came up to the pitch of perfec-
tion you say.'
'"And I say, too,' said the second, 'that there
are rare gifts going to loss in the world, and that
they are ill bestowed upon those who don't know
how to make use of them.'
"'Ours,' said the owner of the ass, 'unless it
be in cases like this we now have in hand, cannot
be of any service to us, and, even in this, Heaven
grant they may be of some use!'
"So saying, they separated and took to their
braying once more; but every instant they were
deceiving each other and coming to meet each
other again, until they arranged by way of
countersign, so as to know it was they and not
the ass, to give two brays, one after the other.
255
WHY THE WORLD LAUGHS
In this way, doubling the brays at every step,
they made the complete circuit of the forest, but
the lost ass never gave them an answer or even the
sign of one. How could the poor, ill-starred brute
have answered when, in the thickest part of the
forest, they found him devoured by wolves? As
soon as he saw him his owner said:
'"I was wondering he did not answer, for if he
wasn't dead he'd have brayed when he heard us,
or he'd have been no ass; but for the sake of having
heard you bray to such perfection, friend, I count
the trouble I have taken to look for him well
bestowed, even though I have found him dead.'
"'It's in a good hand, friend,' said the other;
'if the abbot sings well the acolyte is not much
behind him.'
"So they returned disconsolate and hoarse to
their village, where they told their friends, neigh-
bors, and acquaintances what had befallen them in
their search for the ass, each crying up the other's
perfection in braying. The whole story came to
be known and spread abroad through the villages
of the neighborhood; and the evil one, who never
sleeps, with his love for sowing dissensions and
scattering discord everywhere, blowing mischief
about and making quarrels out of nothing, con-
trived to make the people of the other towns fall
to braying whenever they saw any one from our
village, as if to throw the braying of our treasurers
in their teeth. Then the boys took to it, which
was the same thing for it as getting into the hands
and mouths of all the devils of hell; and braying
256
AN ASININE STORY,
spread from one town to another in such a way
that the men of the braying town are as easy to
be known as blacks are to be known from whites;
and the unlucky joke has gone so far that several
times the scoffed at have come out in arms and in
a body to do battle with the scoffers, and neither
king nor bishop, fear nor shame, can mend mat-
ters. To-morrow or the day after, I believe, the
men of my town that is, the braying town are
going to take the field against another village two
leagues away from ours, one of those that persecute
us most; and that we may turn out well prepared
I have bought these lances and halberds you have
seen. These are the curious things I told you I
had to tell, and if you don't think them so, I have
got no others." And with this the worthy fellow
brought the story to a close.
The place of the telling of this asinine tale was
in the stable of an inn, in the heart of the province
of La Mancha, southward from Madrid. The
teller was a man of lances and halberds, who was
stabling his mule. Chief among the hearers was
a certain gaunt knight of La Mancha, who, that
he might hear the tale the sooner, with his own
hands helped the sifting of the barley and the clean-
ing-out of the manger; a knight who, from some
quaint fancy of knight-errantry, bred of the reading
of monstrous tales of chivalry, had chosen to call
himself Don Quixote of La Mancha, true lover
and servant of Dona Dulcinea del Toboso.
Here is a wicked little story, from the same
golden clime and golden time. An old man,
257
WHY THE WORLD LAUGHS
jealous of his pretty young wife and a certain friend
of his, a merchant and a widower, fell ill of a mor-
tal disease. Knowing his case was hopeless, he
said to his wife:
"You know, my dear, that I cannot escape
this deadly sickness; what I beg of you is, if you
care to please me, that you will not marry that
friend of mine, who often comes to the house, and
of whom I have been somewhat jealous/'
"Dear husband," replied she, "I could not if I
would, for I am already engaged to somebody
else!"
Juan de Timoneda, who tells the tale, contributes
also this:
A village maiden, driving before her an ass,
which, as it was returning to its foal, went quicker
than the girl, met a courtier.
"Where do you live, my pretty maiden?" asked
he.
"At Getafe, sir," she replied.
"Tell me, do you know the innkeeper's daughter
there?"
"Very well, sir," said she.
"Then be so kind as to take her a kiss from
me!"
"Give it to my donkey, sir: he will get there
first."
Two friends, says the same genial narrator, a
weaver and a tailor, became in time enemies, so
much so that the tailor spoke much evil of the
weaver, though the weaver always spoke well of
the tailor* A lady asked the weaver why he
258
AN ASININE STORY
always spoke so well of the tailor, who always spoke
so ill of him, and he replied:
"Madam, we are both liars."
A prince, he also tells us, had a jester who kept
a book of fools, in which he put everybody de-
serving that title. One day at table the prince
asked the jester to bring him the book, and opening
it saw his 'own name, and below, "His Highness,
on such a day, gave fifty ducats to an alchemist
with which to go to Italy and bring back ma-
terials for making gold and silver."
"And what if he returns?" said the prince.
"Oh, then I will scratch out your Highness and
put him in."
A blind man hid some money at the foot of a
tree in a field belonging to a farmer. Visiting
it one day, he found it gone, and, suspecting the
farmer, went to him and said:
"Sir, as you seem an honest man, I have come to
ask your advice. I have a sum of money in a
very safe place, and now I have just as much more,
and do not know if I should hide it where the
first money is or somewhere else."
The farmer replied, "Truly, if I were you, I would
not change the place, it being as safe as you say."
"That's just what I thought," said the blind
man, and took his leave. The farmer hurriedly
put back the money, hoping to get it doubled, and
the blind man in his turn dug it up, greatly re-
joicing at recovering what he had lost.
One tale more, from this festive Spaniard, this
time rather a malicious one. A certain Biscayan,
259
WHY THE WORLD LAUGHS
he tells us, had just finished working on the belfry
in a small town where there chanced to be a man
condemned to death; he was told by the authorities
that, as they had no executioner, they would give
him a ducat and the condemned man's clothes, to do
the job, with which the Biscayan was well content.
A few months later, finding himself penniless
and remembering how much he had gained by so
light a task, he climbed the belfry, and when the
townsfolk hurried up, at the ringing of the bells,
he looked down at them, saying:
" Gentlemen, it is I who have called your Wor-
ships together. You must know that I have not
a farthing to bless myself with, and you remember
that you gave me a ducat some time back for
hanging a man. Now I have been considering
that, from the least to the biggest of your Wor-
ships, I am willing to hang the whole town at half
a ducat each."
Here is a little Spanish folk tale, as a dainty
morsel at the end:
A certain pasha, says the tale, had a daughter
who had three suitors. When her father asked
her which of the three she would marry, she re-
plied that she wanted all three. To this he re-
plied that it was impossible, as no woman ever had
three husbands; but the girl, who was wilful and
spoiled, persisted; and at last the good pasha, in
despair, called the three suitors before him and
told them he would give his daughter to whichever
returned with the most wonderful thing within a
year's time. The three suitors set out on their
260
AN ASININE STORY
quest, and after vainly wandering about the world
for many months, one of them met a witch, who
showed him a looking-glass in which you saw
whatever you wished to see. This he bought from
her. The second suitor also met this witch, who
sold him a strip of carpet which carried you wher-
ever you wished to go when you sat upon it.
The third suitor bought from her a salve which
would bring a newly dead corpse back to life again
if rubbed upon its lips.
The three suitors met and showed one another
their respective finds.
"Let us wish to see our fair mistress!" said one;
so they looked into the magic mirror and wished,
when, lo and behold, they saw her lying dead, laid
out in her coffin, ready for burial!
They were overwhelmed with grief.
"My salve will restore her to life," said the third
suitor, "but by the time that we get there she
will have been long buried and the worms will
have eaten her."
"But my magic carpet will take me to her at
once," cried the second suitor; and so they all
sat down on it and wished to be taken to her.
In an instant they found themselves in the
pasha's palace, and the salve was applied to the
dead girl's lips. She immediately came to life
again, sat up, and looking at the pasha, said:
"I was right, you see, father, when I wanted
all three!"
Doubtless the story has a moral, but I am in
some doubt as to what it is.
261
XXI
THE MERRY JESTS OF RABELAIS
ABE LAIS wrote in the early fifteen hundreds.
1 \ A generation later, little Willie Shakespeare
might have read him in the nursery had he hap-
pened to be translated and imported into Strat-
ford; and one can imagine how the future swan of
Avon would have reveled in him. Michael
Angelo, had he known French as well as Rabelais
knew Italian, might have read the horrific ad-
ventures of Pantagruel in the serene, large days
of his old age; he would have enjoyed the gigantic
element, though he might have missed some of
the humor. At any rate, there we have Rabelais
placed and dated between two giants.
The huge and genial Gargantua was no inven-
tion of his; he was a national Titan, something
like Finn McCool of Ireland or that giant of our
childhood, Robin A-bobin A-bilberry Ben, who
"ate more victuals than threescore men, a cow
and a calf, and an ox and a half, a church and a
steeple and all the good people; and then he de-
clared that he hadn't enough !" All-consuming
giants fill a long-felt want in the human heart.
The taste for them survives in our own time and
262
THE MERRY JESTS OF RABELAIS
land, though with less urbanity, as you may learn
if you will read a socialist's description of Mr.
Rockefeller.
I think one of the most humorous things in the
wild, raging, uproarious history of Gargantua is
this description of his childhood:
"Gargantua, from three years upward unto
five, was brought up and instructed in all con-
venient discipline, by the commandment of his
father; and spent that time like the other little
children of the country that is, in drinking, eating,
and sleeping; in eating, sleeping, and drinking;
and in sleeping, drinking, and eating. Still he
wallowed and rolled up and down in the mire;
he blurred and sullied his nose with dirt; he blotted
and smutched his face with any kind of nasty stuff;
he trod down his shoes in the heel; at the flies
he did oftentimes yawn, and ran very heartily
after the butterflies, the empire whereof belonged
to his father. He wiped his nose on his sleeve
and dabbled, paddled, and slobbered everywhere.
He would drink from his slipper, sharpened his teeth
with a top, washed his hands in his broth, and
combed his head with a bowl. He would sit down
betwixt two stools, cover himself with a wet sack,
and drink in eating of his soup. He did eat his
cake sometimes without bread, would bite in
laughing, and laugh in biting. He would hide
himself in the water for fear of rain. He would
strike before the iron was hot, would blow in the
dust till it filled his eyes; be often in the dumps.
He would flay the fox, say the Ape's Paternoster,
18 263
WHY THE WORLD LAUGHS
return to his sheep, and turn the hogs to the hay.
He would beat the dogs before the lion, put the
plow before the oxen, and claw where it did not
itch. By gripping all, he would hold fast nothing,
and always ate his white bread first. He shoed
the geese, tickled himself to make himself laugh,
would scrape paper, blur parchment, then run
away as hard as he could. He would reckon
without his host. He would beat the bushes
without catching the birds, and thought that the
moon was made of green cheese. He always
looked a gift-horse in the mouth. By robbing
Peter he paid Paul; he kept the moon from the
wolves, and was ready to catch larks if ever the
heavens should fall. He did make of necessity
virtue, of such bread such pottage, and cared as
little for the peeled as the shaven. His father's
little dogs ate out of the dish with him, and he
with them. And that he might play and sport
himself, after the manner of the other little
children of the country, they made him a fair
weather-jack of the wings of the windmill of
Myrebalais."
That is, indeed, universal boy, and the same fine,
prolific skill depicts Gargantua growing up into a
symbol of universal man; much better natured, be
it said, than the common run of mortality. I
should like to descant upon young Gargantua at
the ancient University of Paris as the prototype
of the American college boy, and draw therefrom
wise conclusions, pro and contra, as to the secular
amelioration of our race. For instance, this:
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THE MERRY JESTS OF RABELAIS
"They tied a cable-rope to the top of a high
tower, by one end whereof hanging near the ground
he wrought himself with his hands to the very
top; then upon the same tract came down so
sturdily and firm that you could not on a plain
meadow have run with more assurance. They
set up a great pole fixed upon two trees. There
would he hang by his hands, and with them alone,
his feet touching at nothing, would go back and
fore along the aforesaid rope with so great
swiftness that hardly could one overtake him
with running; and then, to exercise his breast
and lungs, he would shout like all the devils in
hell."
Gentle reader, does this, perchance, suggest to
you some young football hero of your acquaintance
doing stunts for the delectation of some fair
creature in petticoats, and then, no longer able
to subdue the pent-up fires, suddenly breaking
into a college yell? Which, by the way, rhymes
with what Rabelais said. This is the very
naturalism of that great and genial soul; his
caricature is of universal validity, and his
spirit is invariably honest and benign. Take the
episode of Gargantua stealing the bells of Notre
Dame; what college student, worth his salt, but
has wanted to do that; has, indeed, done something
as like it as might be? I knew a group of studious
young university persons who stole the city flag
from the mayor's official home, and pelted his
successor, who happened to be in the bakery busi-
ness, with samples of his own buns. I knew a
265
WHY THE WORLD LAUGHS
medical student who had gathered in scores of
the golden balls which denote that money may
be loaned; I knew another who collected gold boots
from shoe-shops; I knew yet another but, as
Maitre Pathelin says, in an old French farce, let
us return to our muttons and Gargantua.
Excellent, and of universal import, is the story
of the great war which arose between Picrocho-
la's men and the people of Grangousier, Gar-
gantua' s honored father, over the stealing of the
cakes. The Italians should have read that be-
fore they laid hold of Tripoli. The Young Turks
seem to have studied it, as they refuse to make
restitution of the property stolen from them.
After doing deeds of valor in the fight, young
Gargantua, feeling himself somewhat dry, asked
whether they could get him a lettuce salad. Now
it happened that six pilgrims, who were coming
from Sebastian near Nantes, being afraid of the
/enemy, had hid themselves in the garden among
the cabbages and lettuces. Gargantua, hearing
that there were good lettuces there, went forth
himself, and brought in his hand what he thought
good, and withal carried away the six pilgrims,
who were in so great fear that they did not dare
to speak or cough. As he was washing them,
therefore, first at the fountain, the pilgrims said
one to another softly:
" What shall we do? We are almost drowned
here among those lettuces. Shall we speak? But
if we speak he will kill us for spies."
And as they were thus deliberating what to do,
266
THE MERRY JESTS OF RABELAIS
Gargantua put them with the lettuce into a platter
of the house, as large as the huge tun of the
White Friars of the Cistercian Order; which done,
with oil, vinegar, and salt, he ate them up, to
refresh himself a little before supper, and had
already taken in five of the pilgrims, the sixth
being in the platter, totally hid under a lettuce,
except his palmer's staff that appeared, and
nothing else.
Which Grangousier seeing, said to Gargantua,
"I think that is the horn of a snail; do not eat
it."
"Why not?' 7 said Gargantua, "they are good
all this month"; which he no sooner said, but,
drawing up the staff, and therewith taking up
the pilgrim, he ate him very well, then drank a
terrible draught of excellent white wine.
The pilgrims, thus gobbled up, made shift to
save themselves as well as they could by drawing
their bodies out of the reach of the grinders of his
teeth, but thought they had been thrown into
the lowest dungeons of a prison. And when
Gargantua gulped the great draught, they thought
to have drowned in his mouth, and the flood
of wine had almost carried them away into the
gulf of his stomach. Nevertheless, skipping with
their staffs, as St. Michael's palmers used to do,
they sheltered themselves from the danger of that
inundation under the banks of his teeth. But
one of them, by chance, grooping or sounding
the country with his staff, to try whether they
were in safety or no, struck hard against the
267
WHY THE WORLD LAUGHS
cleft of a hollow tooth, and hit the mandibulary
nerve, which put Gargantua to very great pain,
so that he began to cry in the rage that he felt.
To ease himself, therefore, of his smarting ache, he
called for his toothpick, and, rubbing a walnut-
tree toward where they lay skulking, unnestled
you, my gentlemen pilgrims.
The six pilgrims, being thus miraculously es-
caped from imminent death, and that night lying
in a lodge near unto Coudray, were greatly com-
forted in their miseries by one of their company,
who showed them that this adventure had been
foretold by the prophet David in the Psalms:
"Then they had swallowed us up alive, when
their wrath was kindled against us : then the waters
had overwhelmed us, the stream had gone over
our soul. Blessed be the Lord, who hath not given
us a prey to their teeth. Our soul is escaped as
a bird out of the snare of the fowler."
Which bit of genial irreverence brings us to
another side of Rabelais, his courageous and out-
spoken protests against every form of religious
bigotry, narrowness, intolerance, persecution, hy-
pocrisy. The great battle between the followers
of Luther and of Rome was raging fiercely, and each
side was lighting the fagots for the other. To
speak plainly was dangerous, and to keep silent
was cowardly. Therefore Rabelais again and
again breaks forth in wild, copious, humorous,
outrageous denunciation, which shows that he
was in reality a brave soldier in the war of libera-
tion of humanity. But he covers up his attack in
268
THE MERRY JESTS OF RABELAIS
such a whirlwind of burlesque buffoonery that no
churchman could venture to prosecute him with-
out drowning himself in a deluge of ridicule, even
as those pilgrims were almost drowned in Gar-
gantua's prodigious draught of wine. But these
attacks on intrenched bigotry and hypocrisy are
not the motive of Rabelais's books; they are mere
incidents of the time and of his big, honest nature.
He was really disburdening himself of a jolly,
genial, sincere gospel of humane urbanity, em-
bodied, according to the hilarious abundance and
whimsicality of his spirit, in wildly grotesque
fables and buffoonery; and it was simply because
his genial soul came into concussion against in-
tolerance that he turned aside from his main
purpose of jovial fun-making to attack the sneaks
and knaves. For a sample:
"If you conceive," says Gargantua, "how an
ape in a family is always mocked, and provokingly
incensed, you shall easily apprehend how monks
are shunned of all men, both young and old. The
ape keeps not the house as a dog doth; he draws
not in the plow as the ox; he yields neither
milk nor wool as the sheep; he carrieth no burden
as a horse doth. That which he doth is only to
spoil and defile all, which is the cause wherefore
he hath of men mocks, frumperies, bastinadoes.
After the same manner a monk I mean those
lither, idle, lazy monks doth not labor and work,
as do the peasant and artificer; doth not ward
and defend the country, as doth the man of war;
cureth not the sick and diseased, as the physician
269
WHY THE WORLD LAUGHS
doth; doth neither preach nor teach, as do the
evangelical doctors and schoolmasters; doth not
import commodities and things necessary for the
commonwealth, as the merchant doth. There-
fore is it that by and of all men they are hooted
at, hated, and abhorred."
Yet another example. "Why," quoth Friar
John, "do we not rather remove our humanities
into some good, warm, holy kitchen, that noble
laboratory, and there admire the turning of
spits, the harmonious rattling of the jacks and
fenders, criticize the position of the lard, the
temperature of the soup, the preparation for the
desserts, and the order of the wine service?
Beati immaculati in via. Matter of breviary,
my masters."
WTiereto the follower of Gargantua answers,
"This is spoken like a true monk: I mean like a
right monking monk, not a bemonked monastical
monkling."
But the true note of Rabelais is sheer glorious
and outrageous fooling, uproarious mirth, genial,
kindly, humane. Take, for instance, this speech
of the scholar from Paris, whom Gargantua' s
son, Pantagruel, meets on the way, and asks him,
"How do you spend your time there, you my
masters the students of Paris?"
The scholar answered, "We transfretate the
Sequane at the dilucul and crepuscul: we deam-
bulate by the compites and quadrivies of the urb;
we despumate the Latial verbocination; and, like
verisimilary amorabunds, we captate the benevo-
270
THE MERRY JESTS OF RABELAIS
lence of the omnijugal, omniform, omnigenal
feminine sex. And if by fortune there be rarity
or penury of pecune in our marsupies, and that
they be exhausted of ferruginean metal, for the
shot we demit our codices, and oppignerate our
vestments, whilst we prestolate the coming of the
Tabellaries from the penates and patriotic lares."
Needless to say, Pantagruel got very angry,
and thrashed the scholar till he shrieked for
mercy in vernacular Gallic.
That is your genuine Rabelais, one of the great
mirth-makers of the world and of all time.
XXII
FROM MOLIERE TO DAUDET
THE funniest thing that I have been able to
find in Moliere,and one of the slyest in all litera-
ture, is a little scene in "Love, the Physician,"
which was written to the order of King Louis XIV.
in the autumn of 1665 and acted at Versailles
while the first streaks of gold and red were touch-
ing the beeches in the park.
"Love, the Physician" introduces us to a
wealthy merchant, with one fair daughter and no
more, who says, most reasonably, that he does
not want her to marry, because, for the life of
him, he cannot see why he should give up his
child and his money to some young sprig with a
plume in his cap who comes along and cries,
"Stand and deliver!"
So, when the fair maiden has most perversely,
as maidens are wont, set her tender heart upon
just such a sprig, he turns a deaf ear to her plead-
ing and grunts and growls in unresponsive in-
dignation. The maiden, as maidens are wont,
determines to have her own way; so, with her maid,
she concocts a plot as old as time itself: she will
fall sick, feign imminent and oncoming death,
272
FROM MOLIERE TO DAUDET
and so wring the heart of papa that he will
agree to anything to bring her back to life again.
So said, so done. The maiden fair is presently
disclosed in a darkened room, pale, attenuated,
palpitating; while fond papa, who was evidently
no novel - reader, is seen tearing his hair and
moaning in anguished dread. In his haste he
says, not, like the psalmist, "All men are liars/ 7 but,
"Go quick; fetch a doctor!" with such vehement
fear that his servant straightway rings up four.
They assemble, one after another examining the
love-lorn maiden, scrutinizing her tongue, touch-
ing her feeble pulse, and pressing with anxious
palm her fevered brow. Then, in another room,
shut in by themselves, they enter into consultation
upon their patient, and the following discourse
ensues after the learned physicians have seated
themselves and coughed judicially.
Doctor des Fonandres begins the consultation
by remarking that Paris is a very large place, and
that it is necessary to make long journeys when
practice is brisk. To this, Doctor Tomes replies
that he is glad to say he has an admirable mule,
which covers an astonishing stretch of ground
every day. Doctor des Fonandres rejoins that
his own horse is a wonder, an indefatigable beast.
Doctor Tom&s, taking up the gauntlet for his mule,
declares that, on that very day, he went first
close to the arsenal; from the arsenal to the end of
the Faubourg Saint-Germain; from the Faubourg
Saint-Germain to the end of the Marais; from the
end of the Marais to the Porte Saint-Honore;
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WHY THE WORLD LAUGHS
from the Porte Saint-Honore to the Faubourg
Saint- Jacques; from the Faubourg Saint-Jacques
to the Porte de Richelieu; from the Porte de
Richelieu to the house in which they then were,
and that he had still to go to the Place Royale.
Doctor des Fonandres affirms that his horse
has done all that and more, as he has also been to
see a patient at Ruel.
Then Doctor Tomes turns the talk to the
famous dispute between the two physicians
Theophrastus and Artemius, and asks his colleague
which side he takes in the dispute. The other
says he is for Artemius.
"So am I," replies Tomes, although his advice,
as we have seen, killed the patient, and that of
Theophrastus was certainly much better; yet the
latter was decidedly wrong, under the circum-
stances, and he ought not to have held an opinion
different from that of his senior.
"What say you?" he asks his colleague, who
replies that, unquestionably, etiquette should al-
ways be preserved, no matter what happens.
"For my part," continues Doctor Tomes,
"I am excessively strict in these matters, except
between friends. The other day three of us were
called in to a consultation with a provincial
doctor, whereupon I stopped the whole affair; I
would not allow the consultation to take place
if things were not to be done in order. The
people of the house did what they could and the
sickness grew worse, but I would not give way and
the patient died heroically during the dispute."
274
FROM MOLlfiRE TO DAUDET
His worthy colleague replies that it is quite right
to teach people how to behave, and to show them
their ignorance; and Doctor Tomes continues:
" A dead man is but a dead man and of no conse-
quence whatever; but the whole medical profes-
sion suffers if one formality is neglected."
Well, gentle reader, has it dawned on you where
the joke comes in? This eloquent and animated
talk is supposed to be a consultation of physicians
over a girl at the point of death; and the good
doctors have evidently forgotten all about her,
as you, perhaps, have also done, while reading
their lucubrations. But her fond papa now pops
in, and a further scene of comedy begins, which
ends by Doctor Tomes saying, "If you do not
bleed your daughter immediately she is a dead
woman"; to which Doctor des Fonandres in-
dignantly retorts, "If you do bleed her, she will
not live a quarter of an hour." Let me relieve
your apprehensions, good reader, by telling you
that the maiden made a sudden and astonishing
recovery, after this manner: A fifth doctor pre-
sented himself, who was no other than the desired
lover in disguise. He prescribed sundry weird
things, among others an imaginary marriage,
which was so realistically carried out that the
fond papa presently discovered that he had signed
a marriage contract consenting to the espousal of
his daughter and fixing on her a dowry of twenty
thousand crowns. Thereafter, marriage bells and
general rejoicings.
So far Moliere. In La Fontaine's fables there
275
WHY THE WORLD LAUGHS
are some mildly amusing things. I remember,
for instance, an eloquent poem on a hen-pecked
husband, and another on a covetous priest who,
as he conducts the mortal remains of one of his
parishioners to the vault, speculates on the rich
legacy which he expects to receive. But his
parishioner, though dead, takes the trick, for the
coffin falls on the priest and turns him also into
funereal matter.
Coming nearer our own days, I recall a charm-
ingly irreverent poem by Beranger, one of the
greatest and most genial of Frenchmen; a poem
which describes how Monsieur the Deity woke
one morning, opened His window, and looked out
for our little earth, vaguely speculating with
Himself as to whether it had perished during the
night. But He sees it whirling away in a distant
corner, and thereupon ruminates thus:
"If I understand how they get along there,
may the devil fly away with Me, My children!
Black or white, roasted or frozen, these little
mortals pretend that I direct them! But, thank
Heaven, I also have ministers! If I don't fire
two or three of them, I hope, My children, that the
devil will fly away with Me! Was it in vain
that, to make them live in peace, I gave them
lovely woman and wine? But to My very beard
these pygmies call Me the God of Armies, and fire
cannon at each other in My name. If I have
ever led a regiment, I hope, My children, that the
devil will fly away with Me! What are those
dwarfs doing, prinked out on thrones with golden
276
FROM MOLIERE TO DAUDET
nails? With anointed brows and haughty mien,
these chiefs of your ant-hill say that I have blessed
their crowns, that through My grace they reign as
kings. If it is through Me they reign like that,
I hope, My children, that the devil will fly away
with Me! I feed yet other dwarfs in black,
whose incense My nose dreads ; they turn life into
Lent, and launch anathemas in My name, in
sermons beautiful indeed, but which are all Hebrew
to Me. If I believe a word they say in them, I
hope, My children, that the devil will fly away
with Me!"
Come we now to Alphonse Daudet, and his great-
est creation, "Tartarin de Tarascon." Daudet,
an ardent lover of Cervantes and his gaunt,
chivalric hero, bethought him to create a modern
Don Quixote of the nineteenth century in the full
sunlight of southern France. So he made Tartarin
redoubtable, sturdy, magnetic, imaginative, and
set him down amid the mirages of Tarascon, on
the bank of the Rhone. Tartarin is the center
of a mock heroic company made up of "the brave
commandant Bravida," really a retired army
tailor, the armorer Costecalde, the pharmacist
Bezuquet, and the rest, who are banded together
into a hunters' club. But alas! there is no game,
not even a partridge or a rabbit; so the Nimrods
are reduced to throwing their caps in the air,
and shooting at them. Then they return home,
well content, and, soaked in Tarascon sunshine,
dine heartily, and fight their battles o'er.
Circus comes to town, bringing a magnificent
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WHY THE WORLD LAUGHS
Atlas lion. Tartarin is stirred to the depths of
his heart. He stands on guard before the cage
and says, in his reverberant bass, "Ah, that were
a hunt worth trying!" and immediately word goes
abroad that Tartarin is going forth, voyaging to
Mount Atlas to hunt lions. The good man had
no such thought, but he is nagged into living up
to the popular hope, and sets forth, a portentous
figure, with two cases of rifles, a patent collapsible
tent, a traveling drug - case, knives, revolvers,
boxes; himself garbed as an Algerian, and so,
after a humiliating sea-trip, he arrives at the
French colony of Algiers, the one exotic figure in
that little Parisian outpost.
The lions of Atlas sleep in peace, however, for
Tartarin, less devoted than Don Quixote to an
ideal flame, falls head and ears in love with a
Moorish beauty, whom he immediately loses in
the crowd. By the help of his good friend the
Prince of Montenegro he recovers her, as the
prince assures him, though he himself has doubts;
but he is presently lapped in Oriental luxury,
in a charming Villa Amanda of Moorish design,
and wholly enthralled by the fair Baya's charms.
At last his better man awakes, and he goes forth
to hunt lions and returns shorn. He shoots first
a poor little donkey, which earns him a good
drubbing, and then an aged lion, lame and blind,
which has been employed, like a blind man's dog,
to gather coppers for a Moorish monastery.
As the culmination of his woes, the Prince of
Montenegro goes off with his pocketbook. Tar-
278
FROM MOLIERE TO DAUDET
tarin returns to Algiers with but one friend, a
faithful camel who has shared with him the
dangers of the desert, and has conceived a deep-
rooted attachment for the bold Tarascon hero,
and very embarrassingly insists on accompanying
him everywhere. Tartarin, yearning for the ten-
der consolations of his faithful Baya, finds that
she, too, is fickle and has transferred her heart
to a more recent wooer. Tartarin, utterly dis-
illusioned, is returning through a back street of
Algiers just before dawn. He terrorizes the
muezzin, takes his turban and cloak, and gravely
ascends to the terrace of the minaret. Let
Daudet continue:
"The sea was gleaming in the distance. The
white roofs were sparkling in the moonlight. The
night breeze wafted the notes of late guitars.
The Tarascon muezzin hesitated a moment, then,
raising his arms, he began a shrill psalmody:
" ' La Allah il Allah. . . Mohammed is an old hum-
bug. . . . The Orient, the Koran, the lions, and the
Moorish beauties are not worth a copper! . . .
There are no more pirates . . . there are only
sharpers. . . . Long live Tarascon! . . .' '
And while, in a bizarre jargon of blended Arabic
and Provenyal, the illustrious Tartarin scattered
to the four corners of the horizon, over the sea,
over the city, over the plain, over the mountain,
his joyous Tarascon malediction, the clear, grave
voices of the other muezzins replied to him, spread-
ing from minaret to minaret, and the last believers
of the upper town devoutly beat their breasts. . . .
19 279
WHY THE WORLD LAUGHS
But one desire remained to Tartarin: to slink
back unobserved to Tarascon, and there to hide
his diminished head. But he counted without one
devoted friend; let Daudet again tell the tale:
" After this disastrous expedition, he had hoped
to return home incognito. But the encumbering
presence of the love-sick camel rendered it im-
possible. What an entry he would have to make,
O merciful Heaven! Not a copper, not a lion,
nothing! ... A camel! . . .
' ' ' Tarascon ! Tarascon V
" There was nothing for it but to leave the
train.
"O stupefying fact! Hardly had the hero's
Algerian cap appeared at the opening of the
gate when a great cry, 'Long live Tartarin !'
made the glass roof of the station tremble. 'Long
live Tartarin! Long live the lion -killer!' And
then a flourish of trumpets, a burst of music,
followed. . . . Tartarin was almost dead with
shame. He thought some trick was being played
on him. But no! All Tarascon was there, waving
hats and full of cordiality. There was the brave
commandant Bravida, the armorer Costecalde,
the president, the pharmacist, and the whole
noble band of cap-hunters, crowding round their
leader and carrying him in triumph all along the
stairways. . . ."
Singular effects of the mirage! The skin of the
blind lion, sent to Bravida, was the cause of all
this uproar. With that modest pelt, exhibited
at the club, the men of Tarascon, and the whole
280
FROM MOLIERE TO DAUDET
south at their backs, had turned their heads.
The "Semaphore" had spoken. A whole drama
had been invented. It was no longer a single
lion that Tartarin had slain, but ten lions, twenty
lions, a cargo of lions! So Tartarin, when he
landed at Marseilles, was already famous there
without knowing it; and an enthusiastic telegram
had outstripped him, reaching his native city
two hours before him.
But what set the crown on the people's joy
was the vision of a fantastic animal, covered
with dust and sweat, appearing in the hero's
wake and clattering down the station stairway.
For a moment Tarascon thought the mythical
Tarasque had returned.
Tartarin reassured his compatriots.
"That is my camel/' said he.
And already under the influence of the sun of
Tarascon, that lovely sun which brings forth
innocent fictions, he added, caressing the drome-
dary's hump:
"A noble beast! ... It saw me kill all my
lions."
Thereupon, his face rosy with joy, he took the
commandant's arm with a familiar gesture; and,
followed by his camel, surrounded by the cap-
hunters, acclaimed by the whole populace, he set
forth peacefully toward the house of the baobab,
and as he walked he began the story of his mighty
hunts.
"Picture to yourself," he said, "that, on a cer-
tain evening, in the heart of the Sahara ..."
281
XXIII
OLD HIGH GERMAN JOKES
TO comply with the promise of my title, the
jokes must, I suppose, be old and high and Ger-
man. As for their antiquity, some of the best of
them go back to the thirteenth century, and have,
therefore, the novelty of the well-forgotten.
Where they are too high I shall endeavor to
temper their altitude; and, as for their being
German, why, that is my very reason for recording
them.
In these Old High German jokes there seems to
be a general type. An energetic person of humor-
ous bent and cheerful rascality goes forth through
the world, seeking and finding disreputable ad-
ventures, playing rowdy practical jokes, and
laughing uproariously at his own escapades;
whereat the audience is supposed to laugh in
sympathetic chorus. The course of this roistering
Goth is liberally irrigated with beer, which is
joyously swilled by red-faced persons with car-
buncle noses, fat paunches, and a general air of
disreputable conviviality. In a word, Falstaff
is the very model. Such is the worthy Parson
Ameis of the thirteenth century. Such is the
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OLD HIGH GERMAN JOKES
sixteenth-century Till Eulenspiegel. Such is his
successor, Hans Clauert. Such, in the eighteenth
century, though with the difference that he was
a real person and a most outrageous liar, was
Baron Mlinchhausen. And such, in the late
nineteenth century, was the famed Tobias Knopf.
The laughter is hilarious and breezy, the humor
never so fine-drawn as to be in any danger of
passing uncomprehended, the repertory demon-
strates that smoking-room stories antedate the
introduction of the weed by Sir Walter Raleigh.
With a truly prophetic refinement of insight,
the Old High Germans made their first great
humorous rascal an Englishman and a parson.
As the result of a wordy dispute with his bishop,
Parson Ameis undertakes to teach the bishop's
donkey to read, so that that dignitary may not
pride himself too much on his erudition. He
hides the long-eared student in a cave, half starves
him, and then puts before him a book, with oats
sprinkled thinly between the leaves. The ass
eagerly turns them over with his soft nose and
licks up the oats. After a while the bishop,
anxious to know how his rival in learning is getting
on, asks Parson Ameis for a demonstration. By
that time the ass can turn the pages over charm-
ingly, and the bishop goes off open-mouthed,
persuaded that it is only a matter of time before
the other one learns Latin. But the bishop
fortunately dies before the time is up, and the
education of the ass is cut short.
Poverty drives Parson Ameis to the Continent
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WHY THE WORLD LAUGHS
in search of a fortune. He presently finds himself
in Paris, and determines to victimize the King of
France. He assures that monarch that he, the ad-
venturer, is such a painter as the world never saw,
and gets a contract to adorn a great hall in the pal-
ace. And, with solemn knavery, he further per-
suades the king that such is the occult virtue of his
painting that, should the beholder have a pedigree
at any point suspect or tinged with left-hand
incidents, the picture will remain for him wholly
invisible. So the king, with big, round eyes of
credulity, fills the knave's pockets with gold and
bids him paint away. The knave closes the hall,
lies cheerfully on his back, and never paints a line.
When the king comes, after a month, to see the
painting, the parson reminds him of the occult
virtue of the work and its relation to damaged
paternity; and the king, who, very naturally,
sees nothing at all, blinks like a solemn owl and
avers that the work is excellently good. Ameis
points out this detail and that of mountain or
tree or human form, of the bare, white wall, and
the king assents and praises, fearful of the possible
slur on his paternity should he declare that he
sees nothing. He, in his turn, describes the pic-
tures to his gaping, naught-seeing courtiers, who,
for a like reason, eagerly behold what is not
there, till at last a blunt, stupid person avers that
he sees nothing, because there is nothing to see,
and ruthlessly adds that in his belief neither king
nor princes see anything more than he does.
Whereat the whole court laughs uproariously, and
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OLD HIGH GERMAN JOKES
Parson Ameis is praised for a witty knave. All
of which is unmarred by over-delicacy, but is
rather the true material of primitive mirth.
In Lotharingia, Parson Ameis had another
adventure. He declared to the duke that he was
a marvelous healer, so that all diseases yielded to
his skill. The duke offered him much gold if he
could prove his skill, and turned over the inmates
of the hospital to his care. Thereupon Parson
Ameis assembles the sick and wounded, and
makes them a little speech. He announces that
their duke has intrusted them to his care, and
that he will heal them all; but that, to do this,
he must take that one among them who is ir-
remediably ill, put him out of his misery, bray
his bones in a mortar, and therewith make a
sovereign ointment for the healing of the others.
Thereupon, the unfortunate folk looked at one
another and pondered. Each bethought him that,
even if he admitted having only a little ailment,
his neighbor might own to none at all, and so he,
as the most gravely sick, would have to yield
material for the ointment. Therefore, with one
accord they began to assert that they felt better
already, were, indeed, so decidedly on the mend
that they might be said to be altogether well.
So Parson Ameis stood there smiling, listening
to their testimony; and presently he sent for the
duke, reported a clean bill of health, pocketed his
money, and went serenely forth. Such is the
good Briton who is the first great figure in German
humor. Many more adventures he had, as he
285
WHY THE WORLD LAUGHS
swindled and tricked his way throughout all
Europe, until finally he amassed such a fortune
as enabled him to settle luxuriously at home and
to end his days in an odor of sanctity.
Till Eulenspiegel is just such another knave,
but that we are introduced to him in his early
childhood, while he is still playing the pranks that
make him the prototype of all bad boys. Seventy
adventures and more are accredited to him, wild,
boisterous, hilarious, as he wanders throughout
the wide German world. Of these, I think the
wittiest is this. Till had indulged in so many
stupid pranks that folk began to call him a mani-
fest fool. He took a keen revenge. Sedulously
he spread the rumor that he, Till Eulenspiegel,
the fool, would, on a certain morning, appear at
the tower window and fly through the air to the
ground. The good townsfolk came gaping thither,
and, sure enough, at the appointed time Till
made his appearance at the tower window. He
looked down at the burghers, and they gazed
up at him. Finally Till said, "You have all
come here, to see me fly! Yet you know as well
as I do that I can no more fly than you can.
Judge, then, who is the biggest fool!"
Here is another tale, from a book of the same
period. Some German boors were traveling
along the muddy road from one Old High German
city to another. At nightfall they came to a
wayside inn, and asked for bed and board, in-
cluding ample supplies of beer. When they were
properly mellow, they decided to go to bed, mine
286
OLD HIGH GERMAN JOKES
host declaring that he could only provide one bed
for every two of them. Then one fellow, thinking
to be funny, declared to his companion that he
was by predilection a ball-player, and, further,
that he was given to nightmares, during which,
believing himself to be playing ball, he had the
bad habit of striking out in bed; should this
happen, and should he accidentally break his bed-
fellow's nose, he craved his forgiveness before-
hand.
The other nodded and hummed and promised.
But when the sleep-walking ball-player had
drowsed off, his companion rose quietly and put
on a pair of spurs, and then went back to bed again.
Presently the ball-player began to jerk and mutter
in his sleep, and began to wave his arms, finally
landing a stiff blow on his companion's face.
The latter immediately started up, jumped on the
ball-player's back, dug the spurs into him, and
bade him canter. When the ball-player yelled
his expostulations, the other begged his pardon
and explained that he too was given to nightmare
and had just dreamed that his companion was a
horse. So everybody laughed uproariously and
ordered more beer.
Here is another yarn, of the same fiber. Two
boors were good neighbors, their houses side by
side, and on a certain morning, not so very early,
came the one to the other's window and rapped
thereon with his finger. But the other was still
lying in the chimney-corner behind the stove, and
did not want to get up. So. when his neighbor
287
WHY THE WORLD LAUGHS
rapped on the window, he cried out, saying with
a loud voice:
"Who is there?"
The one who was outside said, "It is I, neighbor
Conrad; what are you doing?"
The first said, "I am in bed, still sound asleep.
What do you want, neighbor?"
The one at the window said, "If you had not
been asleep, I wanted to borrow your wagon; but
I will come back again after you wake."
Such simple-minded boors, says the narrator,
are hard to find. And he goes on to tell a tale of
another boor, simple enough in his way, but very
far from being a fool. In a certain village, he says,
there were bad, rascally, wicked boors, who
often in the beer-house with each other quarreled,
and with base words to each other the lie gave, and
too often beat and stabbed each other, which their
parson had many times warned them against.
But, unfortunately, it helped nothing.
Once on a Sunday, when the good parson not
much had studied, and to his boors had to preach,
he began again their base words to narrate, and
said, "Oh, ye are unholy boors! I have you
already a long time forbidden to curse and to
swear, to call one another liars, to quarrel and to
brawl, yet the longer it goes the wickeder it gets.
You call one another with blasphemous words
liars, and thereof all sorts of contention and bick-
ering ariseth! Now be it so: if one hears the
other lie, and knows manifestly that he is lying,
let him not him a liar straightway call, but much
288
OLD HIGH GERMAN JOKES
rather let him gently to whistle begin. He who
has lied will briefly, remark this whistling, and from
a sense of remorse and confusion will hold up to
lie. Pfui! What you do, most unseemly ap-
pears !"
The which a certain profane and knavish boor,
who was in the church, remarked. But then the
parson let go his preaching and began of the crea-
tion of the first men to speak.
" Dearly beloved brethren, the Almighty, as He
created the heaven and the earth and found that
it all very good was, determined He also to make
men. So he took a lump of clay and squeezed it
together, and formed, as it were, a man thereof,
and, having formed him, set him up against the
fence to dry."
Which, when the rascally boor aforesaid heard,
began he to whistle overloud, which the parson,
remarking, said:
"What, boor, you mean that I lie?"
Whereupon that wicked boor answered, "Oh no,
your Reverence! But all the same, who made the
fence before the first man was created?"
I have translated this as literally as may be,
in order to preserve the fine Old High German
flavor. I will now relapse into the vernacular,
and tell another tale.
In a certain village near Leipzig lived a widow,
well blessed with this world's goods and possessed
of riches in plenty. To her many good widowers
came as suppliants, asking for her hand and
offering to take care of her goods. But she would
289
WHY THE WORLD LAUGHS
not. No saddle suited her, and she chose rather
to remain master in her own house, unwilling to
submit her will to any man. To the which village
came a certain young man, very fine and clever
and beautiful, who, hearing much of the good
widow and her possessions, determined to set his
cap at her, and if so it might be, wed her and make
her his. So he wooed her with right good will and
gentle art, and at last began to be pleasing in her
sight, so that she smiled when she met him in the
market-place or at church, or wherever it might
be. Well, the thing went so that he offered
himself to her; and they were wedded, although all
her gossips dissuaded her and said it would surely
turn out ill.
After the wedding, for the first while he was
good, obedient, quiet, keeping good care of his
own house and following the old wife from
chamber to chamber, until he had learned where
all her treasures were kept. But then he began
to go astray, lingering long at the beer-house,
drinking much, and often bringing boon com-
panions home with him to drink and roister and
make merry till the clock struck midnight.
The which the good wife remarking, she de-
termined on guile, and, binding a towel about her
head, laid her on the sofa and began mournfully
to groan. Whereupon, her man, entering with
his boon companions, asked her what was ill with
her; and she said that her head gave her much
woe and was full of sore pains. At that, in well-
feigned anger tearing the towel from her head,
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OLD HIGH GERMAN JOKES
he began to thump her on the brow, crying, "O
wicked and shameless head, thus to torment my
dear, tender wife! But I shall beat thee until
thou ceasest, therefore take that, and that,
and that!"
So vigorously did he beat her that she was fain
to cry peace, saying that the head no longer hurt
her, but that she was well.
"Then, up, good wife, sit with us, make merry,
and drink wine!" cried he, unashamed. "And if
that evil head bethink again to hurt thee, I will
of a truth beat it even more!"
XXIV
BARON MUNCHAUSEN AND AFTER
THE funniest thing about Baron Munchausen's
preposterous yarns is that the good baron
was an entirely real person, and really told those
yarns or others like them. Born on May 11,
1720, on his father's estate of Bodenwerder, near
Hanover, the mendacious baby was christened
Karl Friedrich Hieronymus, with the style and
title of Freiherr von Mlinchhausen. In his boy-
hood he served as a page of Prince Anton Ulrich
of Brunswick, thereafter obtaining a coronetcy in
the " Brunswick Regiment' 7 in the Russian service,
and, on November 27, 1740, the Russian Empress
Anna gave him a lieutenant's commission and
sent him south to fight against the Turks. Ten
years later he had risen to be a captain of cuiras-
siers under the Empress Elizabeth, and in 1760
he retired from the Russian service and settled
down on his paternal estate of Bodenwerder.
There, in part to entertain his friends, in part
to defend himself against the shooting stories of
his gamekeeper, he spun his yarns. He spoke
as a man of the world, naturally, simply, taking
it for granted that he was relating mere matters
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BARON MUNCHAUSEN AND AFTER
of fact, never laughing or even smiling at his own
jokes. Among the guests at his table who heard
them was a certain Rudolph Erich Raspe, also a
Hanoverian, and a man of much curious learning.
Raspe pilfered medals from a museum, fled to
England, was very hard up, and bethought him to
earn an honest guinea or two by writing down
some of his host's tales, no doubt with embellish-
ments of his own. But at first the book was no
more than an exaggerated account of the baron's
yarns concerning his stay in Russia, as its title
showed. It only ran to about forty pages, in-
cluding chapters two to six of the present editions;
all the rest is apocryphal.
The kernel of the narrative sticks close to the
real events of the baron's life for example, this
beautiful tale:
" After my arrival at St. Petersburg, it was
some time before I could obtain a commission in
the army, and for several months I was perfectly
at liberty to sport away my time and money in
the most gentlemanlike manner. You may easily
imagine that I spent much of both out of town with
such gallant fellows as knew how to make the most
of an open forest country. The very recollection
of those amusements gives me fresh spirits and
creates a warm wish for a repetition of them. One
morning I saw, through the windows of my bed-
room, that a large pond not far off was crowded
with wild ducks. In an instant I took my gun
from the corner, ran down-stairs and out of the
house in such a hurry that I imprudently struck
293
WHY THE WORLD LAUGHS
my face against the door-post. Fire flew out of
my eyes, but it did not prevent my intention;
I soon came within shot, when, leveling my
piece, I observed, to my sorrow, that even the
flint had sprung from the cock by the violence of
the shock I had just received. There was no
time to be lost. I presently remembered the effect
it had on my eyes, therefore opened the pan,
leveled my piece against the wild fowls and
my fist against one of my eyes. [The baron's
eyes have retained fire ever since,, and appear
particularly illuminated when he narrates this
anecdote.] A hearty blow drew sparks again;
the shot went off, and I killed fifty brace of ducks,
twenty widgeons, and three couple of teals.
" Presence of mind," went on the baron, "is
the soul of manly exercises. If soldiers and sailors
owe to it many of their lucky escapes, hunters
and sportsmen are not less beholden to it for many
of their successes. In a noble forest in Russia
I met a fine black fox, whose valuable skin it
would be a pity to tear by ball or shot. Reynard
stood close to a tree. In a twinkling I took out
my ball, and placed a good spike-nail in its room,
and hit him so cleverly that I nailed his brush fast
to the tree. I now went up to him, took out my
hanger, gave him a cross-cut over the face; I laid
hold of my whip, and fairly flogged him out of his
fine skin.
"Chance and good luck often correct our mis-
takes; of this I had a singular instance soon after,
when, in the depth of a forest, I saw a wild pig and
294
BARON MUNCHAUSEN AND AFTER
sow running close behind each other. My ball
had missed them, yet the foremost pig only ran
away, and the sow stood motionless, as if fixed to
the ground. On examining into the matter, I
found the latter one to be an old sow, blind with
age, which had taken hold of her pig's tail in
order to be led along by filial duty. My ball,
having passed between the two, had cut his lead-
ing-string, which the old sow continued to hold in
her mouth; and, as her former guide did not draw
her on any longer, she had stopped, of course; I,
therefore, laid hold of the remaining end of the
pig's tail, and led the old beast home without any
further trouble on my part, and without any re-
luctance or apprehension on the part of the help-
less old animal.
" Terrible as these wild sows are, yet more fierce
and dangerous are the boars, one of which I had
once the misfortune to meet in a forest, unpre-
pared for attack or defense. I retired behind an
oak-tree just when the furious animal leveled a
side blow at me with such force that his tusks
pierced through the tree, by which means he could
neither repeat the blow nor retire. 'Ho, hoP
thought I. 'I shall soon have you now!' And im-
mediately I laid hold of a stone and bent his tusks
in such a manner that he could not retreat by any
means, and must wait my return from the next
village, whither I went for ropes and a cart to
secure him properly and to carry him off safe
and alive, in which I perfectly succeeded."
"We took the field," said the good baron on
20 295
WHY THE WORLD LAUGHS
another occasion, " among other reasons, it seems,
with an intention to retrieve the character of the
Russian arms, which had been blemished a little by
Tsar Peter's last campaign on the Pruth; and this
we fully accomplished by several very fatiguing
and glorious campaigns under the command of
Count Munich. We had very hot work once in
the van of the army, when we drove the Turks into
Oczakow. The swiftness of my Lithuanian steed
enabled me to be foremost in the pursuit; and
seeing the enemy fairly flying through the op-
posite gate, I thought it would be prudent to stop
in the market-place to order the men to rendez-
vous. I had stopped, gentlemen; but judge of my
astonishment when in this market-place I saw not
one of my hussars about me! Are they scouring
the other streets, or what has become of them?
They could not be far off, and must, at all events,
soon join me. In that expectation I walked my
panting Lithuanian to a spring in this market-
place, and let him drink. He drank uncommonly,
with an eagerness not to be satisfied, but natural
enough; for when I looked round for my men,
what should I see, gentlemen! The hind part of
the poor creature croup and legs were missing,
as if he had been cut in two, and the water ran
out as it came in, without refreshing or doing him
any good! How it could have happened was quite
a mystery to me, till I returned with him to the
town gate. There I saw that when I rushed in
pell-mell with the flying enemy, they had dropped
the portcullis (a heavy falling door, with sharp
296
BARON MUNCHAUSEN AND AFTER
spikes at the bottom, let down suddenly to pre-
vent the entrance of an enemy into a fortified
town) unperceived by me, which had totally cut
off his hind part, that still lay quivering on the
outside of the gate. It would have been an ir-
reparable loss, had not our farrier contrived to
bring both parts together while hot. He sewed
them up with sprigs and young shoots of laurels
that were at hand; the wound healed, and, what
could not have happened but to so glorious a horse,
the sprigs took root in his body, grew up, and
formed a bower over me; so that afterward I
could go upon many other expeditions in the shade
of my own and my horse's laurels."
Such is the genuine Baron Munchausen, mere
decorative embroidery on the real campaigns and
exploits of an authentic warrior and campaigner
in Russia. All but some forty pages in our latter-
day editions is apocryphal; or, let us say, the green
shoots of mendacity twined by the first baron
have sprouted and grown into a portentous bower
above his head.
Here is a pretty piece of nineteenth-century
humor from Germany, entitled, "The Sad Tale of
Seven Kisses":
"It is quite a while ago, I think/' says the
narrator, "since one day the dear God called
the angel Gabriel to Him, as He often does, and
said, 'Thou, Gabriel, go and open the slide and
look down! Methinks I hear crying!'
"Gabriel went and did as the dear God said,
put his hand up to his eyes because the sunlight
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WHY THE WORLD LAUGHS
dazzled him, looked all around, and finally said,
'Down there is a long green meadow; at one
end sits Barbelie pasturing her geese, at the other
sits Christoph pasturing his pigs, and both are
weeping to melt a heart of stone/
" 'Indeed/ said the dear God; 'get out of the
way, you big fellow, and let Me look!'
"When He had looked, He saw that it was just
as Gabriel had said.
"And this is how it was that Christoph and
Barbelie were weeping so pitifully: Christoph
and Barbelie loved each other dearly; one of them
took care of the geese and the other took care of
the pigs, and so it was a very suitable match,
there being no disparity of rank. They made up
their minds to be married, and they thought that
being fond of each other was a good enough
reason. But here their employers disagreed, and
so they had to be content with being betrothed.
Now, as it is well to be methodical in all things,
and as kissing plays an important part in be-
trothals, they had made an agreement that seven
kisses in the morning and seven kisses more in the
evening would be quite the proper thing. For a
while all went well, the seven kisses being given
and received at the appointed time. But on the
morning of the day when this story happened, it
came about that, just as the seventh kiss was
coming around, Barbelie' s pet goose and Chris-
toph' s pet pig had a falling-out over their break-
fast, threatening to end in a riot. To settle the
difficulty it was necessary for the lovers to stop
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BARON MUNCHAUSEN AND AFTER
short of the proper number of kisses. Later,
when they were sitting far apart at opposite ends
of the meadow, it occurred to them how very sad
a thing this was; and they both began to weep,
and were still weeping when the dear God looked
down.
"The dear God thought at first that their sorrow
would subside of itself; but when the sound of
weeping waxed louder and louder and Christoph' s
pet pig and Barbelie's pet goose began to grow
sad from sympathy and to make woebegone faces,
He said: 'I will help them! Whatever they wish
for to-day shall come true/
"But as it was the two had but one thought, to
complete the tale of kisses; and as each gazed
in the direction where the other sat and neither
could see the other, for the meadow was long and
there were bushes in the middle, Christoph kept
thinking, 'If I were but over where the geese
are!' and Barbelie kept sighing, 'Oh, could I but
be near the pigs! 7
"All at once Christoph found himself sitting
by the geese, and Barbelie found herself beside
the pigs; but they were no nearer to each other
than before, and there was no possibility of making
up the missing number.
"Then Christoph thought, 'Very likely, Barbelie
wished to pay me a little visit ' ; and Barbelie
thought, 'No doubt, Christoph has gone to look
for me! 7 and then again they began to wish,
'Oh, if I could but be with my geese!' and 'Oh,
if I could but be with my pigs!'
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WHY THE WORLD LAUGHS
"In a moment Barbelie was once more sitting
beside her geese and Christoph was back with
his pigs; and so it went on all day, turn and turn
about, because they always wished themselves
past each other. And so to this day they are
short of that seventh kiss. Christoph, to be sure,
was all for making it up in the evening, when they
both came home tired to death by all their wishing ;
but Barbelie assured him that it would not do a
bit of good, and that there was no possibility of
putting the number right again.
"And when the dear God saw how the two had
been wishing themselves away from each other,
He said, 'Well, this is a nice muddle! But what
I have once said, I have said! There is no help
for it.'
"So He made up His mind then and there that
He would never grant lovers' wishes rashly in
future, before finding out exactly what they
wanted."
We have all seen pictures of the snuffy, stuffy
German professor, famous for his absent-minded-
ness. A cheerful person has collected a number
of involuntary jokes, which he lays to the charge
of the said "Herr Professor." I cull a few, giving
them on his authority rather than my own:
"Alexander the Great," said the Herr Professor,
"was poisoned twenty-one years before his death.
The death of Alexander was felt by all Asia, but
not until after his death."
"Brutus and Cassius murdered Julius Caesar
in a manner very detrimental to his health.
300
BARON MUNCHAUSEN AND AFTER
Gallus was murdered in the presence of the
populace, and he met the same fate once more at
the hands of an assassin."
" Tacitus says that the ancient Germans were as
tall as the Kaiser's body-guard. The Cimbrians
and the Teutons were descended from each
other."
Turning from classical times to English history,
the Herr Professor announced that King Richard
III. murdered all his successors. And he added
that, after the execution of Mary, Queen of Scots,
Queen Elizabeth appeared in Parliament with a
handkerchief in one hand and a tear in the other.
In the field of general European history, the Herr
Professor declared that Gustavus Adolphus, King
of Sweden, lived until shortly before his death,
and that Stanislaus was not yet in existence when
his father was born. He further said that the
Russian general Suvoroff marched at so rapid a
pace with his army that neither the infantry nor
the cavalry nor the artillery could keep up with
him; and that the Polish army was beaten by
Suvoroff because it ran away and fled.
Then, turning to geography, the Herr Professor
thus relieved his mind of its encumbering wisdom.
"The sources of the Nile/' he said, "are much
farther south than where the explorer Bruce dis-
covered them." And he added that, in South
Africa, the eyesight of the Hottentots is so well
developed that they can hear the tramp of a horse
at an incredible distance. North America, he
went on to say, consists of a great number of large
301
WHY THE WORLD LAUGHS
and small islands, very few of which are sur-
rounded by water; and he affirmed that, when
Humboldt ascended Mount Chimborazo, he found
the air so thin that he could not read without
glasses. Finally, inspired, perhaps, by uncon-
scious political feeling, the Herr Professor an-
nounced that there would be much less leather
produced by the English if they tanned only their
own hides.
XXV
SCANDINAVIAN FUNNY STOKIES
ONE of the funniest stories from the land of the
fiords is an ancient tale whose purpose is to il-
lustrate the mental levity of women. I imagine
that, in these days of feminism and enlighten-
ment, it has been suppressed by the Storthing;
but I have captured a copy, and, at some personal
risk, I now make it public. This tale relates that
there was a certain man named Jacob, whose wife,
Alida, was blessed with a plentiful lack of wits.
They had some marketing to do, and, as Jacob
was busy, Alida said she would go. So Jacob
told her, "Mind well, goodwife, you are to sell
the cow and the hen; the cow for fifty crowns and
the hen for fifty pence, and, mind you, not a penny
less!"
So Alida went along the road to market, carrying
the hen and driving the cow; and as she went
she kept saying to herself, "The cow and the hen,
the cow and the hen; fifty crowns and fifty pence;
the cow and the hen." And presently, from saying
it too often, she got confused, and said, "Fifty
pence and fifty crowns for the cow and the hen."
And then she began to say, "Fifty pence for the
cow, and fifty crowns for the hen."
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WHY THE WORLD LAUGHS
The butcher was going along the road, and he
heard her and said he would take the cow at her
price, and so he gave her the fifty pence and took
the cow, and the goodwife went on to market
with the hen. But when she came to the market
nobody would give her fifty crowns for the hen,
so she was sorrowful. And at last she went to
the butcher and told him, as he had taken the
cow, he should take the hen, too. So he said he
would see about it, and asked her to come in, and
put food of the best before her and gave her
strong waters to drink, so that presently the good-
wife was snoring. Then he daubed her with tar
and rolled her in feathers and set her out on the
roadside. When she awoke, it was the chill of the
morning, and she rubbed her eyes and looked for
the fifty crowns she was to get for the cow and the
fifty pence she was to get for the hen; but she could
find none of it, but only the feathers, all over her,
where the butcher had daubed her.
Well, the goodwife was perplexed. "Am I
me/ 7 she said, "or am I not me? And if I'm not
me, then who can I be?" So she thought perhaps
she was a big bird, and not herself at all. "Well,"
she said, "I'll go home, and if the dog licks my
hand, then I am me; but if he barks at me, then
I am a bird, and not me at all."
So she went home, and indeed the dog began
to bark and to howl; so she knew she was a bird,
and not herself at all; so she must go up on the
roof and try to fly. The goodman saw her, and,
indeed, he too thought she was a bird, and got his
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SCANDINAVIAN FUNNY STORIES
gun, and would have shot at her; but she cried
out, "Oh, goodman, don't shoot me, even if I'm
somebody else!" So he came up on the roof,
and she told him all that had happened. Then the
goodman spat and swore, so disheartened was he,
and he said he would take all, whatever money
he had in the house, and go forth, and never return
until he had found three women who were as
big fools as his wife. Then he would return.
So he took what he could take and went. And
as he went along the road, lo and behold, there
was a new house built by the roadside and a
woman running in and out of it. She had a sieve
in her hand, and she would come out, and then
whip her apron over the sieve, and then run back
again into the house. So Jacob watched her, and
then he asked her what she was doing.
"I am trying," she said, "to catch some sun-
shine to take it into my house; for my house is
dark for lack of sunshine. In my old hut there
was plenty, but in my new house, for all it is fine
and beautiful, there is no sunshine. And, indeed,
I would give a hundred crowns to the man that
would bring me in some sunshine!"
Then Jacob looked at her and raised his eye-
brows. Then he thought, and said to the woman :
"Goodwife, if you give me an ax, I'll bring you
some sunshine."
So she got him an ax, and he cut windows in
her house, till the sun streamed in, for the builder
had forgotten them. And the good woman was
joyful, and clapped her hands, and gave him a
305
WHY THE WORLD LAUGHS
i
kiss, which he liked, and the hundred crowns,
which he liked still more.
" There's one!" he cried, and went on along the
road. And it was not long till he came to a place
where there was a terrible yelling and howling;
and he saw a woman with a club, such as washer-
women use to beat the linen at the stream, and
there was a man there, with his head covered, and
she was beating him over the head and he was
yelling and crying out that she was murdering
him.
So Jacob went up and stopped her. "What
are you doing?" said he.
" Trying to get my goodman's shirt on," said
she. "I've sewn him a new shirt, but he can't
get his head through it, and so I'm trying to drive
it through with a club."
And Jacob looked, and, sure enough, the goodwife
had forgotten to put any neck in the shirt, so her
goodman could not get his head through. And
both of them were crying, she for despite and he
for the beating she had given him trying to put
on the shirt.
"I would give a hundred crowns," cried the
goodwife, "if any one would show me how to put
on the shirt."
So Jacob said he would do it, and he took the
shears and cut a slit in the shirt for the neck, and
so it went on easily enough. And the goodwife
laughed and rejoiced and gave him the hundred
crowns. But the goodman only rubbed his head
and blinked his eyes.
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SCANDINAVIAN FUNNY STORIES
"That makes two!" said Jacob, and went on his
way. And presently he came to a house and
went in; and the old woman was deaf, so that she
could not well hear what he said.
"Where are you from?" asked she.
"I am from Elverum," said he.
"From heaven?" said she, not rightly hearing
him. "Then you may have met my husband
Peter the second, I mean, for I have been married
three times, and each of my men has been called
Peter to his name. The first beat me, so he doesn't
count; the third is still alive, so he doesn't count;
so I am asking about the second, who was a good
man and surely went up."
Jacob thought awhile and laughed in his sleeve,
for all that he was disheartened to find a woman
so foolish. Yes, he said, he came from heaven,
but he could not rightly say whether the Peter he
knew there was her husband or not. But he was
soon going back again, and would find out. The
man he knew in heaven was a good man, but
poor, with never a stitch to his back nor a silver
crown in his pouch, but a good man and kindly,
withal. Then the old woman began a-weeping
and a-wailing, and said that was the living de-
scription of her own lost Peter, not counting the
first one, who was bad and had gone elsewhere;
and would he kindly take her Peter something
when he went back?
Yes, he would. And so the old woman went up
to the garret and gathered good clothes that her
Peter had left, and a box of silver for him, and gave
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WHY THE WORLD LAUGHS
them to Jacob, with a cart to carry them and a
horse to draw the cart. So he went away again,
toward his home. "That makes three!" he said,
as he laughed in his sleeve, even though he was
disheartened at the foolishness of women.
Then the third husband, he that was still
living and was also Peter, saw a man driving his
cart away, and ran into the house and asked the
old wife what it was. So she told him that he was
taking the things back to heaven for her second
man. Then the third Peter was wroth, and took
his horse and pursued. But Jacob, hearing him,
turned into the wood, and hid the horse and cart.
And he plucked a wisp of hair from the horse's
tail and stuck it in a birch-tree on a hillock in
the wood.
No sooner was this done than the third Peter
was after him; and he found Jacob lying flat on
his back and gazing up into the sky. "There it
goes," says Jacob, "the horse and the cart, up
through the clouds to the door of heaven." And
with that he showed the horse-hair on the birch,
where the cart and horse had passed on their
way upward. And Peter the third was much
astounded, and he, too, would see. So Jacob bade
him also lie on his back and look up steadily till
his eyes got used to it and he saw the horse and
cart in the clouds.
So there he lay, and Jacob was off with the cart
and the horse, and he took, too, thejiorse that Peter
had come on galloping after him. And when he
came home he was well content, for had he not the
308
SCANDINAVIAN FUNNY STORIES
two horses and the cart and two hundred crowns
and the clothes for Peter that was in heaven?
And as he came to the house he saw the field was
plowed; so he asked his wife, Alida, what that
meant.
" I have always heard/ 7 said she, "that what you
sow you reap, with good measure added. So I
have had the field plowed, and have sown salt in
it, and if only we have rain enough I expect to
reap many a bushel. "
Then Jacob was angry and disheartened at her
foolishness. "But," said he, "there is no help
for it, since all womankind are even such as
you."
Here is another tale, about an animal with no
tail, to wit, Brother Rabbit; a tale which might
well have come from Georgia and Uncle Remus,
but which has come, in fact, from the land of the
Vikings.
Once on a time, says the tale, there was a rabbit
who was frisking up and down under the green-
wood tree. "Hooray! Hooray!" he cried, "Hip,
hip, hooray!" and he leaped and sprang, and then
threw a somersault and stood on his hind legs.
Just then Brother Fox came slipping by.
"Good day, good day, Brother Fox!" cried the
rabbit. "I am so merry, for you must know I
was married this morning!"
"Lucky fellow, you!" said Brother Fox.
"Not so lucky, after all," said the rabbit, "for
she is too ready with her fists; a regular old witch
I got to wife!"
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WHY THE WORLD LAUGHS
"Unlucky you are/' said the fox.
"Oh, not so unlucky either," said the rabbit,
and he danced again; "for she was an heiress; she
had a house of her own."
"Why, then, you are lucky, after all," said the
fox.
"Well, no, not so very lucky," said the rabbit,
"for the house caught fire and was burned up,
and with it everything we possessed."
"Why, then, you are unlucky!" said the fox.
"Oh, not so unlucky," said the rabbit, "for my
witch of a wife was burned up, too!"
In the Scandinavian tongues there are many
good tales of the youngest son, who, against all
handicaps of age and ill-favor, rubs it all over his
elder brothers. He is a kind of masculine Cinde-
rella, and has Cinderella's astonishing luck, too.
Generally, his good-fortune turns on an act of
kindness done to an old witch in distress, who turns
out to be a fairy godmother and gives him a wish
or some magical gear, with which he proceeds to
make his fortune. One of the best of these yarns
of the youngest son relates that the two elder
brothers had gone, as always, to the king's court
to make their fortunes. The king set them, each
in turn, to herd his hares, with the condition that,
if none of the hares were lost, the princess would
bestow her hand on the lucky herdsman; but if
even one were missing in the evening, the culprit
should have a slice cut from his back, and salt
rubbed in till he howled.
As was to be expected, the two elder brothers
310
SCANDINAVIAN FUNNY STORIES
came to grief; and the king, with many expressions
of regret, carved them according to agreement.
Then came the youngest son, who, as we expected,
had met the fairy godmother well disguised as a
witch, and had received from her, in return for
kindness, a fairy pipe which had the virtue that,
if you blew into one end, things would scatter and
fly, but if you blew into the other, they would run
together again as quickly as quicksilver. So the
hares were magically herded, and the king, lugubri-
ously whetting his knife each day, was doomed
each evening to disappointment. Then the whole
court was intrigued, and the king sent the princess
to spy on him; and when she had discovered the
secret of the magic pipe, the king bade her pur-
chase it at any cost. So she gave many dollars
and more kisses for the pipe, and set off home
with it; but it had this virtue, that, if the lawful
owner lost it, he had only to wish it back again,
and it would come. So the princess discovered
that the pipe was gone; and the hares were well
herded once more. First the queen tried, giving
many kisses and dollars; and then the king, giving
his own white steed, but all to no purpose. The
pipe went back to the youngest son.
At this the king was spiteful and wroth, and
said the youngest son was a wizard and must
lose his life unless he could lie the great brewing-
vat full of lies so that it ran over. Then he might
keep his life.
That was neither a long nor a perilous piece of
work. The youngest son could do that. So he
21 311
WHY THE WORLD LAUGHS
began to tell the whole tale just as it had happened,
and how the old witch gave him the pipe. And
then he went on to say, "Well, but I must lie
faster if the vat is to be full." So he went on
and told how the princess came and gave him
many dollars for the pipe, and many kisses, away
there in the wood. Then he stopped and said,
"I must lie faster if ever the vat is to be full."
So he told of the queen, and how she had tried to
get the pipe and of the money she had given
him, and the kisses, too. And the queen got white,
and the king got red when he heard it; but the
youngest son said, "I must lie hard to get the vat
full."
But the queen said, "For my part, I think it's
pretty full already."
"No, no; it isn't," cried the king.
So the youngest son went on, and told how the
king had come after the pipe in his turn, and was
going to tell about all the tricks the king had tried
on him to get the pipe. "If the vat is to be full
I must lie hard!" he said.
But the king got redder and redder, because he
was ashamed of the tricks he had tried and afraid
that the court would mock him; so the king cried
out, "Hold, hold! The vat is full to the brim!
Don't you see how the lies are pouring over?"
So the youngest son got the princess for his wife,
and half the kingdom. There was no help for
it.
"That was something of a pipe!" said the
youngest son.
312
XXVI
THE EUSSIAN AND THE TARTAR
IN our garland of the laughter of the world
we have already had flowers of humorous epic;
first, from the father of all epic poets we cited
that famed passage on the snaring of lovely Aphro-
dite and Ares, the war-god, in a net, as a warning
to all flirts in days to come, whereat the assembled
gods broke forth in Homeric laughter that echoed
through the high halls of Olympus; then, from the
Mahabharata, we had the story of how yet other
gods, dusky and exotic this time, paid court to
King Nala's sweetheart, Damayanti, to the dire
perplexity of that love-lorn and loyal maiden.
We shall now add to these a very pretty tale, con-
ceived in a spirit of genuine humor, and having
to do with Vladimir Sunbright, prince of Kieff
in by-gone days, that same Vladimir who first
made Christians of the heathen Slavs, for which he
is reverenced as a saint.
But it is a very human monarch, rather than a
saint, who meets us in this story, a magnificent
and barbaric prince, who had made a festival, a
day of honor for princes and warriors, for strangers
in Kieff and for merchants, and for all who might
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WHY THE WORLD LAUGHS
come to his hospitable halls. When the guests
had eaten at the long tables and had drunk well
of the green wine and mead, filled with the joy
of their feasting, they began to boast.
One of them boasted of his might in war, one
boasted of his noble birth, another, of his swift
horses, another of his silken cloak. But among
all the guests assembled in Prince Vladimir's hall
a young merchant guest from Chernigoff, by name
Stavyor Godinovich, ate not and drank not; he
broke not the flesh of white swans nor tasted the
green wine, nor did he boast him of anything:
Prince Vladimir Sunbright of Kieff noted it, and
came through the hall to young Stavyor, speaking
to him words like these:
"Go to, then, young Stavyor Godinovich; why
sittest thou, eating not, nor drinking nor feasting,
neither breaking the white swan's flesh nor
drinking the green wine, nor yet boasting thee of
anything at the feast?"
Then Stavyor Godinovich made this high-
hearted answer: "What need have I to boast
among the feasters? Shall I boast of my father
and mother? But my father and mother are
dead and gone. Shall I boast of my wealth?
But my wealth is safe enough. Little gains and
little coins I keep not. Shall I boast of my
flowered robes? But my flowered robes are
hardly worn. I have ever thirty master tailors
in my house, who sew me new caftans and cloaks.
A day I wear them, two days I wear them, then
send them to the booths in the market-place; to
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THE RUSSIAN AND THE TARTAR
your princes and warriors I sell them, and take
the full price unabated. Or shall I boast of my
swift horses? But my swift horses I hardly ride.
I have thirty mares of golden sides that bear me
unblemished foals. The best of them I ride my-
self; the worst I send to the market-place; to your
princes and warriors I sell them, and take the full
price unabated. Small need have I to boast
among you. Or should I boast of my new- wed
wife, Vassilissa, Mikula's child of her forehead
whiter than the moon, her eyes that glimmer like
the stars, her brows darker than sable fur, her
hair brighter than the swift falcon's wing? She
would buy you, princes and warriors; and for thee,
Vladimir, she would make thee mad.' 7
The guests' faces darkened, and the boasting
of young Stavyor pleased not Prince Vladimir;
therefore, full of anger, he spoke words like these:
" My faithful servants all ! Seize young Stavyor
Godinovich! By his white hands seize him, by
his fingers with their rings of gold; hail him away
to the chill prison, for this boasting of his and his
words of little courtesy. Feed him there on bread
and water, not for less nor for more, but for six
full years. Let him there win back his wits again !
For we would see how Stavyor's new-wed wife will
draw her boaster from the dungeon, how she buys
you and sells you, warriors and princes, and for
me, Vladimir, how she makes me mad!"
So the boastful young Stavyor was consigned
to durance vile, and Vladimir Sunbright sent
messengers to seize his new-wed wife and bring her
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WHY THE WORLD LAUGHS
a prisoner to Kieff. But word of Stavyor's mishap
outran the messengers, and the fair Vassilissa
thus bethought her, "I cannot ransom Stavyor
with money; I cannot save him by force; I must
win him forth from the dungeon by woman's
wile and artfulness. So she had her golden locks
shorn off relentlessly, and, taking valiant com-
panions, set forth for Kieff disguised as an envoy
of the Tartar Horde a wild anachronism, by the
way, for the Horde did not reach Russia until
centuries later. But so runs the tale.
The seeming envoy, assuming the name of
Vassili, Mikuta's child, came right haughtily to
Kieff, strode into Vladimir's hall, and demanded
the arrears of tribute due to the Tartars and to
their chief, the hound Kalin. The envoy, waxing
bolder as Prince Vladimir quailed, went on to
demand in marriage the hand of Vladimir's fair
niece, Zabava Putyatishna, who was seated with
him at the banquet.
Vladimir answered: "It is well, thou envoy
Vassili, Mikula's child. But I would weigh the
matter with my niece." So he led her forth from
the chamber, to take counsel with her, addressing
to her words like these: "Answer me, well-loved
niece; wilt thou wed the stern envoy? Wilt thou
wed Vassili, Mikula's child?"
But Zabava answered him, smiling secretly:
"Nay, well-loved uncle, what perverse purpose is
thine? What is this that thou hast dreamed of?
Wed not a maiden to a woman, nor make me
laughing-stock for holy Russia !"
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THE RUSSIAN AND THE TARTAR
Vladimir answered, much perplexed, "Nay,
well-loved niece, but why should I not wed thee to
the envoy the stern envoy of the fierce hound
Kalin, the Tartar king?"
But Zabava answered him: "Nay, no envoy is
this, but a woman! For the signs of womanhood,
I know them well. As a swan swims, she walks
the highway and mounts the stair with little
steps, seats her on the bench with knees together,
glancing hither and yon beneath her eyelids. Her
voice is somewhat piping, like a woman's; and her
waist is slender, like a woman's; her hands are
pliant, like a woman's; and her fingers taper, like
a woman's, with the mark of the wedding-rings
still upon them! Nay, such a pair, if we were wed,
would die of weariness!"
So Vladimir Sunbright of Kieff determined to
make trial of the envoy, challenging him first to
try his strength against the wrestlers; and there-
upon, in a style to make even the most determined
modern Amazon envious, the self-styled envoy
Vassili with the right hand seized three wrestlers,
and with the left hand seized another three, hurling
them together and casting them away, so that the
seventh was overwhelmed beneath them. Then,
in the words of the epic, Vladimir spat, and so
returned.
A trial of archery had a like result, and at last
the false, fair envoy beat Vladimir at chess,
winning from him his city of Kieff, instead of which,
after guileful bargaining, the envoy agreed to
accept the boastful husband, Stavyor Godinovich.
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WHY THE WORLD LAUGHS
The story ends in the triumphant mockery of
Vladimir Sunbright of Kieff by the fair Vas-
silissa, Mikula's child, who has made good the
boast, buying and selling the princes and warriors
and making Prince Vladimir mad.
So much for the folk-humor of the old Russian
bards. It was late in the day when Russian began
to grow into a literary tongue. Among the
earlier writers who brought that consummation
about is one who rejoices in the delightfully pie-
bald name of Denis Ivanovich von Wiesen, a
contemporary of George Washington. He has
written satirical comedies; but the funniest thing
of his that I know of is the account of his school-
days in his Confession. He tells us that the
professors sometimes came to their classes, but not
often. The mathematical teacher drank himself
to death. The Latin teacher came only at exam-
ination times, appearing then in a caftan that had
five buttons, while his waistcoat had only four.
" My buttons seem to amuse you," said the pro-
fessor, when the students laughed at him, "but they
are the guardians of your honor and of mine : those
on the caftan stand for the five declensions, those
on the vest for the four conjugations. And
now," he proceeded, as he beat the table with
his hand, "be all attention to what I have to say!
When they shall ask you for the declension of
some noun, watch what button I am touching:
if you see me holding the second button, answer
boldly, 'The second declension/ Do similarly
in regard to the conjugations, being guided by
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THE RUSSIAN AND THE TARTAR
the buttons on my vest, and you will never make
a mistake."
In the geography class, the first student was
asked into what sea the Volga flowed.
"Into the Black Sea," was his answer.
The second student answered, " Into the White
Sea."
When Von Wiesen was asked, he answered, "I
don't know," with such an expression of sim-
plicity that the examiners at once awarded him the
gold medal.
Ivan Kriloff belonged to the next generation.
Here is a free rendering of one of the best of his
fables, entitled, shall we say, "The Unqualified
Prevaricator."
A certain nobleman, perhaps even a prince,
returning from distant lands, fell into the habit
of boasting of the strange and wonderful things he
had seen.
"Alas," he sighed, "I shall never see the like
of it again! What a land is this Russia of ours.
Too hot half the year, too cold the other half;
now you are baked, now you are deluged; but
abroad it is a real paradise; you never need a
fur coat or a fire; it is merry May the whole year
long. Abroad you need neither plant nor sow,
all things grow so wonderfully! Why, in Rome
once I saw a cucumber oh, heavens! even to
think of it fills me anew with wonder. Why,
friend, that cucumber was as big as a hill!"
"Ah," said his friend, "how marvelous! Yet
the world has many marvels; why, in this very
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WHY THE WORLD LAUGHS
neighborhood there is one, the bridge across that
stream we are coming to. It looks plain enough,
but is a true miracle. Not a liar in the country
will venture near it, for as soon as he gets half-
way across, the bridge will gape in the middle and
let him through into the stream. But your truth-
ful man may go over boldly, even in his carriage. "
"Mm!" said the traveler. "Is the water deep?"
"Oh, not so deep/' said the friend, "but there
is water enough to drown a liar or two. So, you
see, there is more than one kind of marvel in the
world. But Roman cucumbers are huge, no doubt
of it you said, I think, as big as a hill?"
"Well," said the traveler, hesitating, "not so
big as a hill, perhaps, but as big as a house!"
"You don't tell me!" replied the friend. "Still
there are wonders in the world, and real ones.
Like this bridge, for instance, that won't let a
liar go across it. Why, just this spring, as every
one in town well knows, a tailor and two journalists
fell through. Still, a cucumber as big as a house
is astonishing enough, deny it who can."
"Not quite so wonderful, when you under-
stand. Houses are not everywhere as big as they
are here. The houses there, as I should have
explained, will just hold two, who neither stand up
nor sit down."
"Well, well," said the friend, "a cucumber with
room for two inside is worth seeing; but our
bridge here is a pretty wonderful bridge, too;
not a liar can go across it . . ."
"Say no more, friend," begged the traveler;
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THE RUSSIAN AND THE TARTAR
"and after all, why cross the bridge? There must
be a ford about here, somewhere!"
Yet a generation later comes Gogol, one of the
strangest of many strange Russian geniuses.
Were it possible, I would fain give some account
of his ludicrous comedy, "The Reviser," in which
a pack of grafting Russian officials are warned
that a secret agent has been sent to their town
from St. Petersburg to pry into their misdeeds.
Just at the same time it happens that a needy
youth has drifted into town, put up at the inn,
and remained there for the sternly simple reason
that he could not pay his bill and leave. The
fact that he does not pay, and orders every one
about, at once suggests to the guileless grafters
that he must be the expected high official; so they
wait on him, treat him royally, make him a guest
of honor, and load him with gifts. At first he
thinks they have come to arrest him for his hotel
bill, and blusters manfully; then he rises to the
situation, and decides to fool them to the top of
their bent. He in due time departs, and an
incautious letter of his to a friend betrays the
secret. But the humor of the piece lies in the
immortal doublets, Peter Ivanovich Bobchinski
and Peter Ivanovich Dobchinski, who are forever
interrupting each other and tripping over each
other's heels. For example, they discover the
mysterious stranger at the hotel, and rush to bear
the news to the assembled officials.
Breathless, Bobchinski cries out, "A most
extraordinary occurrence ..."
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WHY THE WORLD LAUGHS
Dobchinski interrupts, "A most unexpected oc-
currence . . ."
"What is it?" cry the alarmed officials.
Dobchinski starts again: "A quite unforeseen
affair; we went to the hotel . . ."
Bobchinski interrupts, "Peter Ivanovich and I
came to the hotel ..."
Dobchinski breaks in, "Eh, allow me, Peter
Ivanovich, let me tell it . . ."
Bobchinski pleads, "Oh no, let me, let me; you
aren't a good talker ..."
"Dobchinski interrupts, "But you'll get con-
fused, and forget something ..."
Bobchinski protests, "Oh no! I won't, upon
my word ! Don't plague me ; let me tell it ! Please,
gentlemen, do not let Peter Ivanovich plague
me . . ."
The exasperated officials protest: "For the
Lord's sake, do tell it. What happened? My
heart is in my mouth. Sit down, gentlemen!
Take seats! Peter Ivanovich, here is a chair for
you. Well, what has happened?" and all gather
about the two Peter Ivanoviches.
So goes the tale, but it is rather a matter of
comic acting than narrative humor.
XXVII
THE CENTRAL FIGURE OF ENGLISH HUMOR
WE are all familiar with the central figure of
English humor: the rotund, jolly man with
the red face, who carried with him the atmos-
phere of the great out-of-doors, who is mightily
addicted to the swigging of beer, and who, when
half-seas over, plunges with wild recklessness into
all sorts of questionable adventures; a good sort,
withal, though much too boisterous for weak
nerves, carrying about with him a flavor of the
stables, and devoted to sanguinary adjectives.
In a word, the comic John Bull, without whom no
English book is thoroughly national.
Whether the Anglo-Saxons recognized him is a
question into which I am not drawn to investi-
gate; perhaps Norman Rufus was the first ad-
umbration of him, though I never heard Rufus
spoken of as a comic person; on the contrary, he
was rather grim and downright. But when we
come to Geoffrey Chaucer, the verse-writing mem-
ber of Parliament, we find the type complete, as,
indeed, is true of nearly every type distinctly
English. Chaucer paints the more amiable side
of the comic John Bull in the Franklin of the
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WHY THE WORLD LAUGHS
famed Canterbury pilgrimage, while the disrepu-
table side, a hardly less essential part of the pic-
ture, is embodied in the Surnmoner of the same
immortal company.
Chaucer touches off the Franklin with the loving
skill of a Rembrandt or a Jan Steen, beginning
artfully with his beard, white as a daisy, above
which flares into rubicund jollity his sanguine
visage. The good gentleman loved to begin the
morning with a hunch of white bread soaked in
red wine; his wont was ever to live in pleasure,
for he was own son to Epicurus, and held firmly
to the view that pleasure was the highest good.
He was the Saint Julian of the country-side for
cheerful hospitality; his bread and ale were uni-
formly good, his cellars always stocked with good
red wine. His house was never without baked
meats, and fish and fowl were as plentiful as snow
in winter. All the dainties of the year graced his
table, month by month, partridge and bream and
pike, with poignant sauce. Like a good English
country gentleman he attended the sessions as a
justice of the peace, and his county had often sent
him to Westminster.
Is there anything in that portrait of the late
thirteen hundreds that would seem out of place
in Tom Jones or one of Hardy's books? Is it
not the type perennial, everlasting? But to paint
in the disreputable traits, from the Summoner,
the hanger-on of the ecclesiastical court. The
Summoner also was a florid Englishman, having,
indeed, a fire-red cherub's face plentifully adorned
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ENGLISH HUMOR
with knobs and carbuncles. He also loved strong
red wine, and had a plebeian fondness for garlic,
onions, and leeks. And, when he was in liquor,
he would speak nothing but Latin, stringing to-
gether the tags he had picked up, as apparitor at
the courts. Chaucer insists that this knobbed,
red-faced knave is a jolly good fellow, a point of
view also distinctly English; and, as an example
of his goodness to other jolly good fellows, relates
that he was ever ready to screen them against
the archdeacon's curse; he kept under his thumb
all the young folk of the diocese, not, I fear, to
their edification. The Summoner wore a garland
on his head big enough for the sign of an ale-
house, and had a huge round cake for a shield.
So much for the picture of the comic John Bull,
feelingly limned by Dan Chaucer, who is a per-
fect Dutch portraitist. Then two centuries later
comes the Bard of Avon, and sets the comic John
Bull in action, dragging him through a thousand
screamingly funny, disreputable adventures, such
as the escapades with Prince Hal, and that famed
adventure with the " Merry Wives of Windsor."
For, I make no doubt, gentle reader, you have
already recognized the John Bull of comedy in
that fat rascal, Sir John Falstaff, the creation of
whom places Shakespeare among the greatest
humorists of the world, peer, in that kind, of
Aristophanes, Cervantes, Rabelais; and one may
doubt whether Falstaff be not the most compact
organic figure of them all; and English through
and through, contrasted, let us say, with the lean
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WHY THE WORLD LAUGHS
knight of La Mancha or the gluttonous guzzler,
Gargantua.
But instead of trying to portray Sir John, let
me borrow a character sketch of him from Prince
Hal, who, when Falstaff asks him the time of
day, thus heartily responds:
"Thou art so fat-witted, with drinking of old
sack, and unbuttoning thee after supper, and
sleeping upon benches after noon, that thou hast
forgotten to demand that truly which thou
wouldst truly know. What a devil hast thou to
do with the time of the day? unless hours were
cups of sack, and minutes capons," and more of
like essence.
To which Falstaff replies: "Indeed, you come
near to me now, Hal: for we that take purses go
by the moon and seven stars; and not by Phoebus
he, 'that wandering knight so fair. 7 And, I
pray thee, sweet wag, when thou art king as,
God save thy grace (majesty, I should say; for
grace thou wilt have none); marry, then, sweet
wag, when thou art king let not us, that are
squires of the night's body, be called thieves of
the day's beauty; let us be Diana's foresters,
gentlemen of the shade, minions of the moon.
And let men say: we be men of good government,
being governed as the sea is, by our noble and
chaste mistress the moon, under whose counte-
nance we steal. . . . Thou hast done much harm
upon me, Hal, God forgive thee for it! Before I
knew thee, Hal, I knew nothing; and now am I,
if a man should speak truly, little better than one
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ENGLISH HUMOR
of the wicked. I must give over this life, and I
will give it over; by the Lord, an I do not, I am
a villain; I'll be damned for never a king's son
in Christendom."
Falstaff, in his young days, was a contemporary
of Chaucer, so it is fitting enough that the boon
companions should agree to lie in wait that night
for a band of pilgrims going to Canterbury with
rich offerings. How the adventure befell, let
Falstaff bear testimony:
"There be four of us here/' he boasts over his
cup of sack in the Boar's Head tavern at East-
cheap, "have ta'en a thousand pound this morn-
ing. Where is it? Taken from us it is; a hun-
dred upon poor four us. I am a rogue, if I were
not at half-sword with a dozen of them two hours
together. I have 'scap'd by miracle. I am eight
times thrust through the doublet; four through
the hose; my buckler cut through and through;
my sword hacked like a hand-saw, ecce signum.
I never dealt better since I was a man all would
not do. A plague of all cowards! Let them
speak. If they speak more or less than truth,
they are villains."
Prince Hal calls on the others to speak.
Gadshill responds, "We four set upon some
dozen "
Whereupon Falstaff interrupts: "Sixteen, at
least, my lord."
"And bound them," says Gadshill.
But Peto declares they were not bound.
"You rogue," cries Falstaff, "they were bound,
22 327
WHY THE WORLD LAUGHS
every man of them; or I am a Jew else, an Ebrew
Jew."
Gadshill again interjects, "As we were sharing,
some six or seven fresh men set upon us
"And unbound the rest, and then come in
the other," Falstaff takes up the tale.
Prince Hal incredulously asks, "What, fought
ye with them all?"
"All?" cries Falstaff. "I know not what you
call all; but if I fought not with fifty of them, I
am a bunch of radish; if there were not two or
three and fifty upon poor old Jack, then am I no
two-legged creature."
"Pray God," says Poins, "you have not mur-
dered some of them."
"Nay," answers Falstaff, "that's past praying
for; for I have peppered two of them; two, I am
sure, I have paid; two rogues in buckram suits.
I tell thee what, Hal, if I tell thee a lie, spit in
my face, call me horse. Thou knowest my old
ward here I lay, and thus I bore my point. Four
rogues in buckram let drive at me, these four
came all a-front, and mainly thrust at me. I
made me no more ado, but took all their seven
points in my target, thus: These nine, in buck-
ram, that I told thee of, began to give me ground;
but I followed me close, came in foot and hand;
and, with a thought, seven of the eleven I paid.
But, as the devil would have it, three misbe-
gotten knaves, in Kendal green, came at my
back and let drive at me for it was so dark, Hal,
that thou couldst not see thy hand."
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ENGLISH HUMOR
Then, after some eloquent banter, Prince Hal
tells what really befell:
"We two saw you four set on four; you bound
them, and were masters of their wealth. Mark
now, how plain a tale shall put you down. Then
did we two set on you four; and, with a word,
out-faced you from your prize, and have it; yea,
and can show it you here in the house; and, Fal-
staff, you carried your guts away as nimbly, with
as quick dexterity, and roared for mercy, and still
ran and roared, as ever I heard bull-calf. What
a slave art thou, to hack thy sword as thou hast
done; and then say, it was in fight! What trick,
what device, what starting-hole, canst thou now
find out, to hide thee from this open and apparent
shame?"
"By the Lord," answers jolly Sir John, no whit
abashed, "I knew ye, as well as he that made ye.
Why, hear ye, my masters: Was it for me to kill
the heir apparent? Should I turn upon the true
prince? Why, thou knowest, I am as valiant as
Hercules; but beware instinct; the lion will not
touch the true prince. Instinct is a great matter;
I was a coward in instinct. I shall think the bet-
ter of myself and thee, during my life; I, for a
valiant lion, and thou for a true prince. But, by
the Lord, lads, I am glad you have the money-
Hostess, clap to the doors; watch to-night, pray
to-morrow. Gallants, lads, boys, hearts of gold,
all the titles of good-fellowship come to you!
What, shall we be merry? Shall we have a play
extempore?"
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WHY THE WORLD LAUGHS
Which sufficiently reveals Sir John Falstaff as
the comic John Bull. Some two and a quarter
centuries after Shakespeare wrote that comedy,
Sir John Falstaff was reborn, still choosing Eng-
land for his native land, in the person of Samuel
Pickwick, Esquire, author of a learned paper en-
titled, " Speculations on the Source of the Hamp-
stead Ponds, with Some Observations on the
Theory of Tittlebats." The reincarnated Sir
John, who now bore the prenomen of Samuel,
had, it is true, a sobered and a chastened spirit,
yet something of the destiny of him whom the
Merry Wives carried out in a clothes-basket
still clung to him. As witness the following
adventure:
Mr. Pickwick paced his room in Goswell
Street to and fro with hurried steps, popped his
head out of the window at intervals of about three
minutes each, constantly referred to his watch,
and exhibited many other manifestations of im-
patience, very unusual with him. It was evident
that something of great importance was in con-
templation, but what that something was not
even Mrs. Bardell herself had been enabled to
discover.
"Mrs. Bardell," said Mr. Pickwick, at last, as
that amiable female approached the termination
of a prolonged dusting of the apartment.
"Sir," said Mrs. Bardell.
"Your little boy is a very long time gone."
"Why, it's a good long way to the Borough,
sir," remonstrated Mrs. Bardell.
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ENGLISH HUMOR
"Ah," said Mr. Pickwick, "very true; so it is."
Mr. Pickwick relapsed into silence, and Mrs.
Bardell resumed her dusting.
"Mrs. Bardell/ 7 said Mr. Pickwick, at the
expiration of a few minutes.
"Sir," said Mrs. Bardell again.
"Do you think it's a much greater expense to
keep two people than to keep one?"
"La, Mr. Pickwick," said Mrs. Bardell, color-
ing up to the very border of her cap, as she fancied
she observed a species of matrimonial twinkle in
the eyes of her lodger. "La, Mr. Pickwick, what
a question !"
"Well, but do you?" inquired Mr. Pickwick.
"That depends," said Mrs. Bardell, approach-
ing the duster very near to Mr. Pickwick's elbow,
which was planted on the table "that depends a
good deal upon the person, you know, Mr. Pick-
wick; and whether it's a saving and careful per-
son, sir."
"That's very true," said Mr. Pickwick; "but
the person I have in my eye [here he looked very
hard at Mrs. Bardell] I think possesses these
qualities; and has, moreover, a considerable
knowledge of the world, and a great deal of sharp-
ness, Mrs. Bardell; which may be of material use
to me."
"La, Mr. Pickwick," said Mrs. Bardell, the
crimson rising to her cap-border again.
"I do," said Mr. Pickwick, growing energetic,
as was his wont in speaking of a subject which
interested him "I do, indeed; and to tell you
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WHY THE WORLD LAUGHS
the truth, Mrs. Bardell, I have made up my
mind."
"Dear me, sir," exclaimed Mrs. Bardell.
"You'll think it very strange now," said the
amiable Mr. Pickwick, with a good-humored
glance at his companion, "that I never consulted
you about this matter, and never mentioned it
till I sent your little boy out this morning eh?"
Mrs. Bardell could only reply by a look. She
had long worshiped Mr. Pickwick at a distance,
but here she was, all at once, raised to a pinnacle
to which her wildest and most extravagant hopes
had never dared to aspire. Mr. Pickwick was
going to propose a deliberate plan, too sent
her little boy to the Borough, to get him out of the
way how thoughtful how considerate!
"Well," saidMr. Pickwick, "what do you think?"
"Oh, Mr. Pickwick," said Mrs. Bardell, trem-
bling with agitation, "you're very kind, sir."
"It '11 save you a good deal of trouble, won't
it?" said Mr. Pickwick.
"Oh, I never thought anything of trouble,
sir," replied Mrs. Bardell; "and, of course, I
should take more trouble to please you then than
ever; but it is so kind of you, Mr. Pickwick, to
have so much consideration for my loneliness."
"Ah, to be sure," said Mr. Pickwick; "I never
thought of that. When I am in town, you'll
always have somebody to sit with you. To be
sure, so you will."
"I'm sure I ought to be a very happy woman,"
said Mrs. Bardell.
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ENGLISH HUMOR
"And your little boy " said Mr. Pickwick.
" Bless his little heart," interposed Mrs. Bar-
dell, with a maternal sob.
"He, too, will have a companion," resumed
Mr. Pickwick, "a lively one who'll teach him, I'll
be bound, more tricks in a week than he would
ever learn in a year." And Mr. Pickwick smiled
placidly.
"Oh, you dear" said Mrs. Bardell.
Mr. Pickwick started.
"Oh, you kind, good, playful dear," said Mrs.
Bardell ; and, without more ado, she rose from her
chair and flung her arms round Mr. Pickwick's
neck, with a cataract of tears and a chorus of
sobs.
"Bless my soul," cried the astonished Mr. Pick-
wick. "Mrs. Bardell, my good woman dear me,
what a situation pray consider. Mrs. Bardell,
don't if anybody should come "
"Oh, let them come," exclaimed Mrs. Bardell,
frantically; "I'll never leave you dear, kind,
good soul." And with these words, Mrs. Bardell
clung the tighter.
"Mercy upon me," said Mr. Pickwick, strug-
gling violently; "I hear somebody coming up the
stairs. Don't, don't, there's a good woman,
don't!" But the entreaty and remonstrance were
alike unavailing; for Mrs. Bardell had fainted in
Mr. Pickwick's arms; and before he could gain
time to deposit her on a chair Master Bardell
entered the room, ushering in Mr. Tupman, Mr.
Winkle, and Mr. Snodgrass. . . .
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WHY THE WORLD LAUGHS
"I cannot conceive," said Mr. Pickwick, when
his friends returned "I cannot conceive what
has been the matter with that woman. I had
merely announced to her my intention of keeping
a man-servant, when she fell into the extraordi-
nary paroxysm in which you found her. Very
extraordinary thing."
"Very," said his three friends.
XXVIII
THE PAWKY HUMOR OF SCOTLAND
A FRIEND of mine, a "puir English body,"
r\ be it understood, declares that he suspects
the authenticity of any Scotch joke, unless there
be a corpse concealed in it somewhere. That,
I think, is distinctly libelous; and, besides, he
ought to have said "corp." Anent the use of this
word, Sir Archibald Geikie, himself a "brither
Scot/ 7 tells two or three excellent stories. Strict-
ly speaking, he says, the word "corp "'is held to
be the singular of " corpse," and is used to refer
to the late lamented from the moment of death
until the time of interment; whereafter he ceases
to be a subject of anatomy, and becomes a sub-
ject of theology. But, pending the disposal of
his earthly part, one may hear such a discussion
as this, concerning a departed Scotchman: "Ah'm
sayin', Sandy, what was the corp to trade?"
And there is an admirable yarn of an old couple,
deeply offended at not being invited to partake
of the funeral baked meats of a neighbor, who con-
soled themselves thus: "Aweel, never ye mind;
maybe we'll be havin' a corp o' our ain before
lang, and we'll no ask them!"
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WHY THE WORLD LAUGHS
Quite inimitable, too, is the story of the melan-
choly cortege which was proceeding, with an empty
hearse, through one of the streets of Forfar. To
a curious inquirer, one of its members made this
reply: "Weel, ye canna exactly call it a funeral,
for the corp has missed the railway connections!' 7
If any of my readers are still in doubt as to the
exact connotation of the adjective " pawky/ ' or
question its entire applicability to the humor of
Scotland, I think the following little tale will
clear the matter up. Once more, it is the world-
famous geologist who tells the story. At a funeral
in Glasgow, he says, a stranger had taken his seat
in one of the mourning carriages, clad in decent
black. His presence excited the curiosity of the
other three occupants, one of whom could stand
it no longer, and thus addressed him:
"Ye'U be a brither o' the corp?"
"No," replied the gloomy stranger; "I'm no a
brither o' the corp!"
"Weel, then," pursued the curious mourner,
"ye'll be his cousin?"
"No, I'm no that!" was the still tantalizing
reply.
"No!" went on the insatiate querent; "then
ye'll be at least a frien' o' the corp?"
"No that either," admitted the stranger. "To
tell the truth, I've no been that weel, mysel', and
as my doctor has ordered me some carriage exer-
cise, I thocht this wad be the cheapest way to
tak' it!"
Robert Louis Stevenson's father is, I believe,
336
THE PAWKY HUMOR OF SCOTLAND
responsible for the story of an ancient grave-
digger of Monkton who lay a-dying. The minister,
having prepared him for his future destiny, began
to talk to him of his long and industrious life, and
at last asked him whether he felt that he had any-
thing to regret.
"Weel, to tell you the truth, Minister, I've
put two hunner and eighty-five corps in that kirk-
yaird, and I wuss it had been the Lord's wull to
let me mak' up the three hunner!"
It is rapidly becoming evident, I think, that if
Shakespeare had seen more deeply into the matter,
he would have transferred the grave-digger scene
from " Hamlet" to " Macbeth," and given the
funeral moralizings of the melancholy Dane to
the Thane of Fife. There is one of these lugubrious
tales which, I must own, caused some misgiving
in my own mind, when my English friend made
the derogatory remark above quoted concerning
Scots humor. It is the tale of a banquet at Glas-
gow, in bygone days, one of the guests of which
was Laird of Kerscadden.
At a late hour, when the guests had absorbed
largely of Glenlivet and other Highland brews,
and, as is customary in Scotland at that stage,
the conversation was turning to metaphysics and
other high matters, one of those present noted
that the Laird of Kerscadden was looking death-
ly pale, ghastly, indeed, or as the good Scot
would call it, "gash." Thereupon he queried
thus:
"Fat gars Kerscadden luik sae gash?" Which,
337
WHY THE WORLD LAUGHS
being translated, means, "What makes Ker-
scadden look so pale?"
To this another guest replied:
" Kerscadden's soul departed to its Maker twa
hours agone. I obsairved it at the time, but said
naething, no wishin' to disturb the hilarity of the
proceedings."
But Scots humor by no means confines itself
to the gloomy cerements of the tomb. On the
contrary, it plunges boldly into the Beyond.
Classical, of course, is the famous theological ex-
position of Calvinism, in "Holy Willie's Prayer,"
which fine and genial poem looks, in popular
editions, somewhat like a star map. That pro-
fane and vain babbler, Rabbie Burns, there sets
forth the Calvinistic view of the Creator thus:
O Thou, wha in the heavens dost dwell,
Wha, as it pleases best ThyseP,
Sends ane to heaven, and ten to hell,
A' for Thy glory;
And no for ony glide or ill
They've done afore Thee. . . .
I have heard a modern tale, which put the
Maker of all the earth in somewhat the same light.
It concerns a sermon delivered, I believe, in a
Free Kirk place of worship, to an assembly of
parishioners who had more than the usual pro-
portion of original sin. The meenister perorated
thus:
"Ma friens! Ah ken ye weel, an' a' the hard-
ness o' yer hearts! Ye come here the Sawbath
338
THE PAWKY HUMOR OF SCOTLAND
morn, wi' yer gude claes and yer sad faces, but
ye're no gude, ma friens, yer bad at heart ! Bad ye
are, and bad ye'll live, till your hour comes, and
the Lord stretches forth His hand against ye, an'
ye dee! An 7 when ye're deid, yer bodies '11 gang
to the kirkyaird, but yer souls '11 gang to the
hottest pairt o' perdeetion!
"And oh, ma friens, yer souls '11 wake up in
the hottest pairt o' perdeetion, an' ye'll cry unto
the Maker of a' the airth, an' ye'll say unto Him :
'O Lord, Maker of a' the airth, what for did Ye
send us to the hottest pairt of perdeetion?' An 7
the Maker of a' the airth '11 make answer an' say
unto ye: ' Because ye were bad bairnies!' An'
ye will reply unto the Lord, 'O Lord! we didna
ken we were bad bairnies!' And the Maker of a'
the airth '11 answer an' say unto ye, 'Awell, ye
ken it noo!" ;
So it cannot be said that Scottish humor is
limited to the "corp." But it does tend to play
about great issues, and "the last things," as the
theologians call them. Yet this impulse may not
spring altogether from piety; as is suggested by
a story, which was once told me, concerning a
little town in Fifeshire, where there are a thousand
inhabitants and ten churches, of as many diffe-
rent denominations. It is said that a Southron,
a "puir English body," who did not know any
better, coming thither, remarked to one of the
natives: "This must be a very religious town;
so many churches with so few people!" To which
the native, with a sniff of infinite scorn, in part
339
WHY THE WORLD LAUGHS
for English ignorance, in part for his fellow-
townsmen whom he knew so well, replied:
"Releegious! It's no releegion ava'; it's juist
currrsedness o' temperrr!"
One cannot do justice to the richness of this in
cold type; for in Fifeshire, more, perhaps, than in
any other part of Scotland, the spoken sentence
does not move stupidly forward on a dead level,
as in mere English, but curves up and down
through the scale, like a switchback railway; a
deliberate and serious-minded switchback, of
course, but an undeniable switchback.
There is another theme about which Scots hu-
mor coruscates incessantly; a theme not concerned
with death or " perdeetion," though, perhaps, on
the main road thither. That sub j ect is ' ' whusky. ' '
On this theme one of the best tales is contributed
by the great geologist already laid under contri-
bution. He tells of two Highlanders discussing
the merits of a certain gentleman, who had fallen
under the displeasure of one of them, against
which the other was vigorously defending him.
The complainant said:
"Weel, Sandy, ye may say what ye like, but I
think he canna be a nice man, whatefer!"
"But what ails ye at him, Donald?"
"Weel, then, I'll juist tell ye!" said Donald,
with a sniff of reminiscent indignation. "I wass
in his house last week, and he wad be pourin' me
out a glass o' whusky; and, of course, I cried out,
'Stop, stop!' and wad ye believe it, he stoppit!"
That reminds me of a classic story concerning
340
THE PAWKY HUMOR OF SCOTLAND
two other Highlanders, one of whom observed the
other to be wrapped in impenetrable gloom. He
asked the cause, and the interlocutor at last re-
luctantly replied:
"It's that man MacTavish! He ca'ed me a
leer!"
His friend tried to console him, explaining that
many a man had been called a liar and had been
none the worse for it. But the gloomy one with
some heat replied:
"Dammut mon! But he pruved it!" Which
showed where the shoe really pinched.
But we were talking of barley brew. Here is
a slender tale, yet with a spice to it. Be it under-
stood that a "bawbee" is, in the Scots tongue, a
halfpenny, and you will understand the full sig-
nificance of this sign upon a country inn in For-
far: "Drunk for three bawbees, and mortal for
threepence!" It must have been a native of
those parts who was so scandalized by the condi-
tions of things in a distant parish in Perth. "This
is no' a godly place at all, at all," he said; "they
dinna preach the gospel here and they water
the whusky!" The "gospel" in his mind prob-
ably meaning the kind of doctrine that was dished
out to the "bad bairnies."
Concerning the said preaching of the gospel,
the late lamented Dean Ramsay used to tell the
following tale. A certain old "betheral," which
is to say, bealle, had received a brother "betheral"
from a neighboring parish, coming with the min-
ister thereof to preach, instead of the regular in-
341
WHY THE WORLD LAUGHS
cumbent, for some special occasion. After ser-
vice, the strange clergyman's "betheral" feeling
proud of the way in which his "meenister" had ac-
quitted himself of his task, remarked in a trium-
phant tone to his friend:
"I think our meenister did weel; ay, he gars
the stour flee out o' the cushion!" That is, he
banged the cushion on the pulpit desk so hard
that he made the dust fly.
To which the home " betheral/ 7 not so easily to
be outdone, made answer: "He garred the stour
flee out o' the cushion! hout! our meenister, sin'
he cam' wi' us, has dinged the guts out o' twa
Bibles!" Which hardly needs to be rendered into
the vernacular.
There are many Scots jests which judiciously
mingle the two great comic elements namely,
theology and "whusky." For example, the tale
of a certain minister who reproached his " bethe-
ral" somewhat severely for always coming home
"fou'," which is to say, full, which is to say, very
drunk.
"Now, John," said the minister, "I go through
the parish, and you don't see me return fou',
as you have done!"
To which John the incorrigible replied: "Ay,
meenister; but then aiblins ye're no sae popular
in the parish as me!"
Yet another anecdote is linked to this by the
beautiful word "aiblins," meaning "perhaps."
It is concerned with a rather backward student
of the catechism, who was asked by his easy-
342
THE PAWKY HUMOR OF SCOTLAND
going and kind-hearted minister what the latter
thought would be a particularly simple question:
"How many Commandments are there?" The
boy scratched his head, shifted from one foot to
the other, peered up at the minister, and hazarded
the reply:
"Aiblins a hunner!"
Departing somewhat abashed from the minis-
ter's house, he met another candidate for cate-
chetical honors, whom he cautiously sounded
thus:
"Weel, what will ye say noo if the meenister
asks ye how mony Commandments there are?"
"Say?" cried the other, full of self-conscious
science. "Why, I shall say ten, to be sure!"
"Ten?" snorted the other, with infinite con-
tempt. "Try ye him wi' ten! I tried him wi' a
hunner, and he wasna satisfeed!"
Of a certain old-fashioned minister, the Rev-
erend Alexander Shirra by name, it is recorded
that, as he got well on in years, he acquired the
habit of thinking aloud, as he read from the Gude
Buik in the kirk. He was once reading from the
hundred and sixteenth Psalm, when he came to
the verse: "I said in my haste all men are liars!"
His mind began to work, and he went on, quite
unconsciously, but also quite audibly: "Indeed,
Dauvid, an ye had been i' this parish, ye might
hae said it at your leesure!"
It is recorded that one of his parishioners once
purchased a pair of nether garments which pleased
him inordinately; a pleasure which he sought to
23 343
WHY THE WORLD LAUGHS
share with the rest of the congregation by walking
slowly and conspicuously up and down the aisle.
The minister stood it for a while, and then broke
out:
"Oh, mon, will ye sit down, an' we'll see yer
new breeks when the kirk's done!"
Two of the best Scots tales illustrate the figure
which, in the kindred art of music, is called cres-
cendo. The first is of the plain people; the second
deals with their "betters," as the catechism puts
it. For the first, Dean Ramsay's father is re-
sponsible. Riding home one evening, he passed
a small farm-house, where there was a consider-
able assemblage of people and incipient merry-
making for some festive occasion. When the
good gentleman asked one of the lassies stand-
ing by what it was all about, she answered:
"Ou, it's juist a wedding of Jock Thompson and
Janet Fraser!"
Mr. Ramsay then asked three questions:
"Is the bride rich?"
To which the lassie replied, "Na."
"Is she young?"
"Naa!"
"Is she bonny?"
"Naaa!"
Here is the same figure in a more aristocratic
key: The Marquis of Lothian, a peppery noble-
man with fine manners of the olden time, had as
his guest a certain countess, very charming but
very deaf, a fact which was unknown to her dis-
tinguished host. Early in the repast, the mar-
344
THE PAWKY HUMOR OF SCOTLAND
quis, turning to the countess with a lordly bow,
asked her:
" Madam, may I have the honor and happiness
of helping your ladyship to some fish? 77
The countess failed to hear or respond. The
marquis repeated his inquiry, but with a slight
rise in temperature:
" Madam, may I have your ladyship's permis-
sion to send you some fish?" The same that is
to say, no reply from the countess.
For the third time the marquis asked:
"Is your ladyship inclined to take fish?"
Still v silence.
" Madam, do you choice fish?"
Then finally:
" Confound ye, will ye have any fish?"
We are now in a position to meet and refute
certain calumnies evidently born of an invidious
spirit, which came from the flat country south of
the Tweed. For example, that tale of Charles
Lamb, who was invited to a party to meet a
Colonel Burns, the son of the author of "Holy
Willie's Prayer." Charles Lamb happened to
say that he wished it had been the father he was
to meet, and, he says, several Scotchmen present
at once explained that that would be impossible,
because Robert Burns was dead! We are now
in a position to declare authoritatively that this
remark sprang not from a lack of the sense of
humor, but from an excess of it, mingled with a
sly desire to impose on the "English body's"
credulity. In which the Caledonians were so
345
WHY THE WORLD LAUGHS
successful, that Charles Lamb brought the story
back to London and told it to the end of his days.
So, of that peevish remark of Sydney Smith:
"It requires a surgical operation io get a joke
well into a Scotch understanding. Their only
idea of wit, which prevails occasionally in the
north, and which, under the name of wut, is so
infinitely distressing to people of good taste, is
laughing immoderately at stated intervals."
We all know the Scots answer to that aspersion
about the surgical operation and the joke: "Ou
ay! an English joke!" The point is well taken,
and one suspects that some of Sydney Smith's
rancor may be due to the fact that his own joke
thus suffered. They were evidently not pawky
enough.
Lastly, brethren, to close this discourse, and
once more to illustrate the adjective I have chosen
to characterize the humor of Caledonia, let me
record this observation of a Scottish host to one
of his countrymen, who was visiting him, as they
stood, at evening, on the threshold of the house-
door:
"It's wat; but it's no wee tin'! It's darrk;
but, losh, mon, ye can see! Ye may bide if ye
like; but if Ah was you, Ah wad gang!"
In telling this story, pray, gentle reader, do not
forget the word "losh," which adds local color
and infinite pawkiness.
XXIX
HUMOR OF THE ANCIENT HIBERNIANS
NOT very long ago I had a brilliant intuition
concerning Irish humor. It came upon me
in a flash of inspiration that the essence of Irish
humor is, that it is not humorous at all. It is
simply the Irishman's way of saying the thing
in the best and most direct manner possible. The
scintillant effect comes from the quality of his
mind and his power of thinking, feeling, and say-
ing two wholly incompatible things at the same
time.
Yet I flatter myself when I say that it was I
who had this inspiration. Rather it was forced
on me by a lively and pathetic little old Irishman,
who was wholly unconscious that he was saying
anything out of the common. And I think that,
for him, it was in all likelihood not out of the com-
mon. He looked as if he could do it all the time
and never even know it.
The time was the festal day of the Hudson-
Fulton celebration. The place was Grant's Tomb,
where was gathered a motley throng eager to see
the goodly showing of war-ships of all flags, the
little high-pooped Half-Moon, the Clermont, and
347
WHY THE WORLD LAUGHS
the rest. My little old Irishman was full of ear-
nest enthusiasm. He was also short of stature.
So he climbed on a bench and craned his little,
scrawny neck over the crowd, only to be yanked
down by a relentless big man in gray. He looked
hurt, but said nothing; and, climbing up the stairs,
tried to get on one of the stone ridges of the tomb ;
but another big man in gray again abstracted him.
Then, sad but undaunted, he tried to mount the
railings of Li Hung Chang's gingko-tree; again a
big man in gray grabbed him. Then he gave up
in despair, and, rather in sorrow than in anger,
said: "Ye can't look at anny thing frum where
ye can see it frum!" and faded into the crowd.
That was some years ago. I have spent
much time, during those years, trying to say
the same thing in fewer or as few words; with
the result that I have come to the matured con-
clusion that this funny, pathetic Irishman had
intuitively hit on the very best way possible of
expressing a complex and difficult thought, and
had done it without any consciousness of the feat
he was accomplishing.
Another instance. This was at Newcastle, in
County Down, under the lovely purple shadows
of the Mourne Mountains. It was a holiday,
and there was to be a consequent rearrangement
of the evening trains, carrying excursions back to
their homes. The railway porter at Newcastle
station studied the facts and hours, got the whole
thing clear in his head, and, coming forth to the
crowd on the platform, thus announced: "The
348
HUMOR OF THE ANCIENT HIBERNIANS
. ten o'clock train '11 go at eleven o'clock to-night,
and there'll be no last train!" That is what is
usually called an Irish bull. It is really the re-
sult of an unconscious genius expressing a fact
in the shortest possible way. Try it yourself,
and see if you come anywhere near it.
Yet another instance: this time the expression
of a social situation which we have all faced at
one time or another, but, I apprehend, without
the advantage of Hibernian genius. Mr. Murphy
and Mr. well, let us say Mr. O'Flaherty, as this
takes the story out of politics, and, besides, I
mean a different Murphy. Well, the said gentle-
man had had a falling-out, and the feud was taken
up by their loyal spouses. It befell, however,
that there was a ball at the County Assembly
Rooms, and, by a curious accident, it likewise be-
fell that the two ladies indicated came a half-
hour early to the hall, to find a wide untenanted
space smiled down on by green flags and Gaelic
mottos. These they surveyed for a time with
absorbed attention, and studied oblivion of each
other's presence in a silence that could be felt.
Finally Mrs. O'Flaherty could stand it no
longer. So, coming up to the other one, she
spoke thus, with a warm voice and an engaging
smile :
"And is that you, Mrs. Murphy? And how is
V Murphy? Not that I give a damn, but just for
conversation!"
Without question, that complies with Pope's
definition:
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WHY THE WORLD LAUGHS
True wit is nature to advantage dressed,
What oft was thought, but ne'er so well expressed.
Here, then, in these three cases, the essence of Irish
humor consists in the fact that it is not humorous
at all, but simply the shortest and best possible
way of saying something, attained by an inherent
genius for feeling and thinking two things at once.
There is always a thought, generally a double
thought, in an Irish bull, so-called; which is,
perhaps, why Professor Mahaffy used to say:
"The Irish bull is pregnant." Always a double
measure of thought. At least so I believed,
until the other day, when, on the upper West
Side, I chanced to overhear a conversation be-
tween two nurse-maids, who had about them an
atmosphere of the County Kerry.
They were wheeling perambulators, and one of
them was one of those double-enders, which repre-
sent a terrible shock to a father's feelings when
the doctor holds up two fingers and announces
"Twins!" The maid who was wheeling only one
babe was, nevertheless, courteously appreciative of
the double charms of the other's charges. She
looked at them, admired them, chucked them
under the chins, goo-gooed at them, and finally
said:
"Oh, the lovely little craytures! And do they
both look alike?"
To this moment I have a haunting suspicion
that she may have meant something uncommonly
wise and deep, and that the failure to discern it
350
HUMOR OF THE ANCIENT HIBERNIANS
is a shortcoming of my own. Should any kind
reader catch her thought, I should be glad to
know of it.
Yet these are modern frivolities, while my ex-
pressed intention is to write of Hibernian humor
of ancient days; humor contemporary, in all
likelihood, with satirical Horace and witty Lu-
cian, and the fantastical-comical author of "The
Golden Ass."
The best of these ancient stories, and in some
ways the finest Irish story ever told, is found in
the great Celtic manuscript entitled "The Book of
Leinster," and records the adventure of King
MacDatho's Pig.
MacDatho was a famous king of Leinster, and
his fortress rath was in sight of the Wicklow Hills.
He had a hound named Ailbe, the like of which
was not known in all of the kingdoms of Erin; so
that the princes and warriors of Erin coveted it.
Whether for hunting or keeping guard, never was
there such a hound as Ailbe.
So fierce was the longing of the princes and
warriors for the hound that they sent embassies
to Leinster to try to barter for it with the king:
embassies from the royal rath of Cruachan in
Connaught, and from the great kingly rath of
Emain 'neath the beech-trees, in the heart of
Ulad, in the north. And it befell that these two
embassies arrived in the same day at the royal
fort rath of MacDatho, King of Leinster.
MacDatho's heart was disturbed within him
when he saw the two famous great embassies of
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WHY THE WORLD LAUGHS
the warriors of the west and north, so that his
queen, perturbed, asked him the cause of his gloom.
"But," said he, "what will it profit me to
tell it to you, for when was there ever wisdom or
prudence in the heart of a woman?"
Nevertheless he told her, and she found in her
heart, if not wisdom, yet guile and craft and
strategy to bring him out of his perplexity. For
she counseled him to promise the great hound to
both, to the men of Connaught and to the men
of Ulster, leaving them to settle it between them,
for thus would Leinster be rid of many a foe.
So MacDatho received the embassy of Con-
naught, the embassy of King Ailill and Queen
Maeve, she that was bride to Conchobar, and
then fled away from him to Ailill; and the men
of Connaught offered MacDatho a thousand kine
and a yoke of steeds and a chariot for the great
dog; and he told them he would give the hound
to them for that. And then, in his seven-gated
great rath, and in his hall, MacDatho heard of
the ambassadors of Ulster, and they offered him
flocks and herds for the hound; and he promised
Ailbe to them for that. So MacDatho made a ban-
quet for the ambassadors, the men of Connaught
and the men of Ulster, and they sat down together.
And at the long, heavily burdened tables of the
banquet were many bodies of sheep and oxen;
but chiefest was the pig of MacDatho, for three
hundred cows had fed it with the best of their
milk for seven years, so that the like of it had never
been seen in Erin.
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HUMOR OF THE ANCIENT HIBERNIANS
"That pig looks good!" said Conchobar, King
of Emain.
"Of a truth it does/' answered Ailill, of Crua-
chan; "but how shall it be carved, O Concho-
bar?"
"What more simple than that in this hall where
sit the glorious heroes of Erin?" cried Bricriu, of
the sharp tongue, the most quarrelsome man in
Erin; "to each man his share, according to his
fights and deeds; but before the shares are dis-
tributed more than one rap on the nose will have
been given and taken."
"So be it!" said Ailill, of Connaught.
"It is fair," said Conchobar, "for we have with
us our best warriors, the defense of our frontiers
against the men of Erin!"
Then Get, son of Maga, great among the war-
riors of Connaught, arose in his place at the table
and proclaimed that he should have the right to
carve the milk-fed pig. But Angus, son of Dan-
ger Arm, of the men of Ulster, rose to dispute it,
saying that he himself should carve.
"Who is this?" said Cet, "and how comes he
by his name? Do you not know that it was I
that beat your father, casting a javelin at him
and piercing his arm, so that they call him Danger
Arm to this day? How, then, are you the better
man?"
So Angus sat down abashed. But Eogan rose,
from among the warriors of Ulster, and said that
he should carve at the banquet.
"Who is this?" said Cet "this man with the
353
WHY THE WORLD LAUGHS
one eye? Is not this Eogan, that I fought against
and sent a strong, great javelin against him, pierc-
ing his eye so that he is half blind to this
day? How can he claim to be the better
man?"
Then Munremur of Ulster arose, and said that
he should carve the pig.
"Who is this?' 7 said Get. "Is not this Mun-
remur, whose eldest son I slew, and he could not
defend him against me?"
So Munremur sat down abashed in his place
at the table.
Then Mend, son of Crutches, rose and said that
he should carve at the king's banquet.
"Who is this?" said Get. "Is it not Mend,
whose father I fought and pierced his legs with
a javelin, so that he limps to this day? How is
he the better man?"
Then Celtecar, son of Utecar, rose, he who came
from the mouth of the Quoile and the fort by the
rushy reaches of the river.
"Who is this?" said Get "this brave warrior
of Ulster? Is it not he that I fought and wounded
in the thigh, so that he limps in his walk, and goes
halting?"
Then up rose Cuscraid, speaking huskily, and
said that he as bravest of the warriors of Ulster
should carve at MacDatho's banquet.
"Who is this?" asked Get; "and why does he
speak huskily, so that the warriors cannot hear
him? Is not this Cuscraid? And did I not fight
hull, sending an arrow against him and piercing
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HUMOR OF THE ANCIENT HIBERNIANS
him through the throat, so that he speaks huskily
even now? How is he the better man?"
There was a stir about the doorway, and in
strode Conall Cearnach, of the warriors of Ulster,
his arm covered with his red cloak. And, as he
entered, Get, of Connaught, was boasting, saying
that he should carve, for not one of the warriors
of Ulster was fit to stand against him.
Then Conall Cearnach stood and looked at
him, and the two eyes of Cet fell before the eyes
of Conall.
"Who is this," asked Conall, "that boasts him-
self to be the better man, and how can he claim
it while I am here? Have I not fought in the
armies of Ulster, so that never a day or a night
passed that I did not slay an enemy? Ever since
I first bore a weapon and learned to fight and to
combat, not often have I lacked the head of a
Connaught man for my pillow in the evening!"
"I confess it," said Cet. "Conall, thou art a
greater warrior than I. Nevertheless, if Anluan,
of Connaught, were here you would not dare to
carve at this table."
Then Conall Cearnach rose in his seat and took
a head from under his cloak, where he had it
grasped by the long hair in his hand. "Anluan
is here!" he answered. "Nevertheless, I shall
carve at the banquet!"
Fain would I stay to recount the great and
bloody and monster combat between the strong,
valiant warriors of Erin, and to relate how the
Ulster men triumphed and the Connaught men
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WHY THE WORLD LAUGHS
fled; likewise, how the great hound Ailbe pur-
sued after the chariot of Ailill, King of Connaught,
and caught the axle in his teeth, holding on until
Ailill hacked the head of the hound from its
body; and how, even then, the hound's jaws kept
fast hold of the axle; but space forbids; therefore
I must terminate the true tragedy of MacDatho's
Pig.
Ossian, the tuneful son of Finn McCoul, the
perfect poet whose name has echoed down through
seventeen centuries, besides being a poet was
something of a humorist, too. There still remains
a poem attributed to golden-tongued Ossian,
which is worthy of a place among the great hu-
mor esques of the world.
Very amusingly, Ossian takes as the target of
his humor his own mighty father, Finn McCoul,
and his own tuneful self. He relates the adven-
tures of Finn at a great race-meet in the plain
of Munster, and tells, with infinite zest, how Finn
won the great race of the day and how the King
of Munster presented him with a coal-black steed
as a reward of his horsemanship. Finn, like the
genuine Irishman he was, must needs try the big
black horse, and so he set forth westward toward
the ocean and galloped his new horse along the
great white strand at Tralee, on the Kerry head-
land. Then he turned south, toward Killarney's
lakes, stopping at every inn to boast of his steed
and to sample the local brew.
So it befell that Finn, and Ossian, who accom-
panied him, being at sundown among the purple
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HUMOR OF THE ANCIENT HIBERNIANS
hills about Killarney, entered a certain carpeted
vale, wherein they saw a strange habitation that,
for all their hunting of the red deer on those hills,
they had never seen or heard of before. They
came to the door and halted in sudden horror; for
there, at the right side of the entrance, sat twelve
headless men, while at the left side were ranged
in a gruesome row their missing heads.
Nor was this all; for Finn and Ossian, com-
pelled by magical force to enter the hall of doom,
were presently witnesses of a dire and dreadful
match of bowls, wherein the headless men played
against one another, rolling the loose heads along
the floor. Such was their horror that Finn and
Ossian presently swooned away.
When morning dawned, the warrior poet and his
wise old father, to their infinite wonder, found
themselves lying on the purple heather of the
hillside, their horses browsing tranquilly near by,
while of the weird house and its inhabitants there
was not a trace. Only in their heads there was a
strange feeling, compounded of numbness and of
pain.
Thus with charm and fancy does famed Ossian
describe "the morning after the night before,"
leaving it to us to divine whether he and his father
went back to those inns to seek medicine for their
strange malady.
Have you ever heard of the modern Irishman
who, when reproached with his childless state,
boldly affirmed that "it was hereditary in his
family to have no children"? He did not know
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WHY THE WORLD LAUGHS
it; but he was only parodying a far finer saying
of a far greater Hibernian namely, King Brian
of Munster, he of the Boruma tribute.
Brian, like earlier Alfred of England, fought for
long years against the Danes. Once he had lost
almost everything, and was pent up in the forests
of Clare, when his brother Mahon came to him,
begging him to surrender to the black Norsemen,
lest the land should be altogether destroyed.
Brian magnificently replied that this was no
good counsel; it was not natural for him or
his clan to submit to insult and contempt; for
neither his father nor his grandfather had
ever surrendered or submitted to insult; there-
fore he concluded that it was not hereditary in
his family to surrender. But if he fought the
black Norsemen, he would either conquer them or
die; and he did not fear death, for his father had
died, and his grandfather before them, and their
fathers' fathers. Therefore he concluded that it
was hereditary in his family to die.
XXX
AMERICAN HUMOR BEFORE COLUMBUS
YES ; and not only before Columbus, but
older than our era; nay, even earlier than
the year of the first Olympiad or the founding of
the mighty city Rome. American humor not
less ancient than three millenniums, and vouched
for, not only by ancient and veridical chronicles,
but also by the very matter of the jests.
One characteristic of modern American humor
is a profane tendency to get gay with the sancti-
ties, as where the Yankee interviews King Arthur,
or the other Yankee, at least by adoption, inter-
views the Emperor of Russia or the mortal vestiges
of an Egyptian mummy or the memorials of the
great Christopher Columbus himself. I suppose
this characteristic of humor stands out here, in
America, because this country, having laid its foun-
dation by bidding defiance to kings, thought itself
well within its right in cracking jokes at them.
Yet this is not the final essence of American
humor; but of that later.
Well, it happens that the most ancient humor
of America, which has to its credit, as I have said,
not less than three thousand years, and probably
24 359
WHY THE WORLD LAUGHS
many more, has as a characteristic quality a certain
levity and mockery of no less a subject than the
creation itself; as though, perhaps, the matter
was recent enough in those days to be still regarded
as funny; or, perhaps, because the Americans of
that day had not lived long enougn to realize how
far certain aspects of the creation of mankind are
from being a joke. But certain it is that nothing
less than the august creation of that most august
of creatures, man, is the theme of pre-Olympian
American wit. And it is not only that the philos-
ophers of the ancient American races have given
an account of the origin of things, which, while
solemn earnest for them, may seem very funny
to us; on the contrary, they intended to be funny,
especially in the second of the two stories which I
shall relate; they were laying themselves out to
catch a laugh; so they fully merit the title of
humorists, not only by grace, but also of malice
prepense.
Viewing, perhaps, the manifold contradictions
of man, to say nothing of the helpmeet, seeing
him at one time in action like an angel, at another
time but a quintessence of dust, these prehistoric
reasoners and seers, whose descendants long after
built Palenque and Copan, decided, it would seem,
that the creators, or whoever might be responsible,
had not made of mankind a very creditable job;
they had in view the same sort of facts which led
later theologians to develop the dogma of the fall
of Adam, and of original sin. But they managed
not to lay all the blame on Adam, nor on the help-
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AMERICAN HUMOR BEFORE COLUMBUS
meet, who has borne the greater part of it ever
since, nor even on the suggestive ophidian who
ministered to the general result; the ancient
Americans have, very deftly, and without un-
seemly irreverence, shifted a great part of the
blame to the formative powers themselves; affirm-
ing that these not only did not succeed very well
with the matter in hand, but, further, and in this
they anticipated Darwin, that the said powers only
reached such qualified success as stands to their
credit, after a good many bungling failures.
In the Popul Vuh, the sacred book of Guate-
mala, which was dim with age before the Span-
iards came, these things are written. There is
majesty, there is pathos in the creative record,
and, what makes for our purpose, there is rich
humor, too. The powers, who have very lovely
designations that we must skip over, saw the earth
without form and void; it could not pray to them;
it could not adore them. So they commanded the
earth to come forth from the waters, and the
mountains appeared rising above the expanse like
the backs of lobsters. But the mountains could
not pray nor adore, so the powers made forests
come forth; these, to break their silence, they
decked with stags and jaguars, cougars, and birds
and serpents. But all these, though they tried,
could neither pray nor adore. So the powers
took counsel together, and of the earth they
formed men, of clay skilfully molded and
shaped. But these men of clay lived after their
kind; they were of the earth, and they acted as
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WHY THE WORLD LAUGHS
earth; dull, vague, forgetful, though they had
speech, they neither adored nor prayed. And,
worst of all, when the rain came, they got wet
and melted away.
So the formative powers tried again. This time
they took a material which would, at least, be
water-tight. They shaped new men, this time
carving them out of wood; wooden they were in
source, wooden they were in nature. And here
I am assailed by misgivings whether these an-
tique sages had not in view, in their wooden dolls
of men, some such creatures as ourselves, who
lord it so sovereignly over things, knocking the
lesser creatures about as though they owned them,
and, just like the men of mud, forgetting to adore
and to pray; forgetting the great well-spring of
Life, their source and home. Be that as it may,
the powers decided that these wooden-doll men
would not do at all; so they prepared a cataclysm
for them, and, somewhat illogically, as it seems to
me, decided that they should be destroyed by a
flood, whereas for wooden-doll men and women
one would have thought destruction by fire much
more appropriate. And it seems that the antique
sages had something of this qualification in their
own minds; for the deluge did little more than
soak the spirit out of the wooden-doll men and
women, and left at least enough of them animate
to be punished some more.
And here comes genuine humor, somewhat
grim, and, so far as I know, quite unprecedented
in this august field. These wooden-doll men and
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AMERICAN HUMOR BEFORE COLUMBUS
women, we are informed, saw their late possessions
come up before them, now richly endowed with
speech, if not to adore and pray, at least to berate
and objurgate their late masters and mistresses,
for the helpmeet comes in for equal measure. To
say nothing of the wild things of the forest, which
they had unwarrantably pursued and slain, the
very domestic dogs and fowl rounded on them,
and gave it to them. "You cut our throats and
ate us/ 7 said the fowl. "You did the like to us,"
said the dogs and such is still the usage in those
countries; "but, further, the moment we came in
to the fireside you picked up things to throw at
us," and then, as now, and as these dogs expressly
say, "anything was good enough to beat a dog
with." "So," said the chickens and the dogs, "as
you have done unto us, we shall do to you."
Then the pots and pans took voice, and addressed
themselves primarily to the helpmeet. "You
never thought twice," they reproached, "before
putting us in the fire; it mattered little to you
that our cheeks were smutted and black. But
our time has come, and we shall do likewise to
you." So they thrust them in the fire and black-
ened their faces in the smoke. And the mill-
stones likewise reproached them and said it was
their turn to grind their masters. Nor was this
all, for meanwhile the flood was steadily rising,
and, when the wooden-doll people tried to climb
on their houses to escape, the houses crumbled
and fell, so that they had no resource or way of
escape from the flood but to flee to the moun-
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WHY THE WORLD LAUGHS
tains and climb the loftiest trees of the forests;
and there a terrible thing overtook the wooden-
doll people, for they turned into the little monkeys
that you find only in the highest hills; and that
is why these little monkeys have faces like men,
because they are the wooden-doll people changed.
This, indeed, is turning the tables on Darwin;
and there is another story, of like purport, which
seems to me the climax of pre-Columbian Ameri-
can humor. It relates to a period somewhat
later, when the races of men had become more
human; and the persons in the story are a ven-
erable old grandmother, and two wonderful pairs
of twins, her dual grandsons. Wonderful things
surrounded the birth of both the elder and the
younger twins, and portents accompanied them.
For the elder twins were marvelously skilled in
all the arts; they could discourse exquisite melody
on the flute; they could dance and sing marvel-
ously, and to these already wonderful acquire-
ments they added a knowledge of sculpture and
painting; perhaps they made the models for some
of those portentous sculptured figures that are
brought from Copan and Palenque to our museums,
sculptures with a kind of hideous grandeur about
them. Perhaps, also, they painted such books as
were found by the early invaders, books of flaring
hieroglyphics, or rather symbolical figures, who
made the written letters of those ancient days.
But, skilled as they were in the arts, the elder
twins had mean and discreditable natures; they
hated the younger twins with a deadly and pro-
364
AMERICAN HUMOR BEFORE COLUMBUS
phetic hatred, hated them, indeed, before they
came to birth and saw the light. For the elder
twins were grown men and famed artists before
the younger twins came into the world; and, had
they had their wicked will, the younger twins
would have perished at their birth. For the
wicked elder brothers took the twin infants from
their mother's arms and threw them out on an
anthill, hoping that they would be stung to death;
but, because they ware miraculous twins and
children of destiny, they took no harm, but slept
there, peacefully smiling. So once more the elder
twins, full of envious wrath, took the babes and
threw them among thorns; but here also they
prospered, and were none the worse. So at last
perforce the elder twins had to accept their fate,
and allowed the younger twins to grow up in the
dwelling of their old grandmother.
But, just because of the many virtues of the
younger twins, the elder twins hated them yet
the more. And they so arranged matters, that
they, the elder twins, should have all the pleasures
and delights, while the younger twins should have
the toils and pains. But the younger twins were
skilled magicians and at last they worked a dire
vengeance upon their cruel brothers. For matters
were so divided between them that it was the
duty of the younger twins to go out and shoot
game with their blow-guns, birds and small ani-
mals of the forest; but it was the part of the
elder brothers to eat the game when it was brought
home and cooked. Thus nourished, they lived
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WHY THE WORLD LAUGHS
at their ease, fluting and dancing all the day, save
at such times as they were giving to painting and
sculpture.
So one day the vengeance fell. The younger
twins, of deliberate intent, returned homeward
from their blow-gun hunting without trace of fur
or feather, and sate them down, again of delib-
erate intent, before their old grandmother, who
was busy at the fire making ready for the cooking.
When she saw that there was nothing to cook,
she was astonished and asked the twin hunters
what had befallen and what had failed to befall.
Had there been no game in the forests, or had their
aim been bad? But the younger twins made an-
swer that they had seen abundant game and had
indeed shot much with their blow-guns; but, as
ill-luck would have it, everything they shot fell
among the thick branches of the trees, and they,
being yet young and not fully grown, could not
climb after it and bring it to earth. So they
begged the old grandmother to bid the elder twins
go forth with them to climb the great tree and
bring down the birds which they had shot.
The elder twins, little suspecting, laid their
flutes aside, ceased from their dancing and their
arts, and, propelled by the need of dinner, went
forth. They came to a certain great tree, which, all
unknown to the elder brothers, the younger brothers
had circled with potent magical spells. About
the crown of the tree were many birds of gorgeous
plumage and plump flesh, and at these the younger
twins began to shoot, with industrious skill, with
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AMERICAN HUMOR BEFORE COLUMBUS
their blow-guns. And the birds fell before their
darts, yet fell never to the ground, but stuck always
in the upper branches of the mighty tree. So,
when they had shot many, but gotten none, they
at last overpersuaded the elder twins to mount
the great tree, and, behold a wonder, as they
climbed, so did the tree grow, till the elder twins
realized that they could never get down again.
Then did the younger twins resort to a graceless
strategy. For, seeing the elder twins perplexed
and frightened among the branches, they called
to them: "Tie your belts round your waists, and
let the ends hang down; then each can aid the
other to descend, and you will be saved. " And
no sooner were the belts tied and pendant than
the junior twins worked a magical spell, which
had the dire effect of turning the belts into tails
and their wearers into monkeys.
Now indeed did those elder brothers grimace
and chatter in the trees, no longer eager to get
down, but rather desirous of escaping further
sight and fleeing along the upper branches to
the mountain heights. And when they were fled,
chattering and grimacing, with long tails pendant,
the younger brothers went back slowly, and, as
it were, pensive and perplexed, to the old grand-
mother's abode. She, in truth, was not long in
asking what had befallen the elder twins, whom
she always perversely favored, spite of their bad
and evil natures; and the younger twins told
her, with many expressions of wonder, that their
big brothers had, by some dire mischance, been
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WHY THE WORLD LAUGHS
turned into beasts of the forest, great monkeys
among the boughs, with nothing now left of their
manifold arts but gibbering and chattering to take
the place of song. But, they said, they could
secure to the old grandmother a sight of her ill-
starred favorites on one condition, and that not
too easy a one. They could pipe to the elder
brothers on their flutes, and these would come
forth from the forest; but if by chance the old
grandmother should laugh at them, then they
would fly back again to the woods and disappear.
She consented, made her wryest and most reso-
lute face, and waited the coming of the grandsons,
while the younger twins piped to them sweetly
on the flute, and the melody they piped was the
Monkey Dance, far famed of old.
Such was the charm of the Monkey Dance, such
their charm in fluting it, that presently the elder
twins, irresistibly moved by concord of sweet
sounds, spite of their stratagems, came hopping
and prancing forth from the forest in time to the
music, gibbering and chattering and grimacing,
with their tails balancing rhythmically in the air.
The old grandmother was shocked at the per-
mutations of her descendants, and grieved for
the fate that had come over them; but, even
though she had been warned that laughter would
be fatal, she could not refrain. She hid her face
in her hands, but presently she was sizzling and
sputtering with laughter, and her monkey sons
straightway disappeared in the forest. Twice and
thrice did the poor old crone most heartily try
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AMERICAN HUMOR BEFORE COLUMBUS
to restrain her grins; twice and thrice did the
crafty younger twins pipe most melodiously to
their whilom tyrannous elders; and twice and
thrice did these come forth from the forest, most
grotesquely balancing and mowing, gibbering and
chattering, and brandishing their new-grown tails.
Twice and thrice, too, did the old lady burst out
into uncontrollable laughter, to see her offspring
thus translated; and, as her last laughter rang
through the house, and echoed over the open
space about it, the ill-fated elder twins, incredibly
shocked at her mirth, disappeared in the forest
for ever.
XXXI
THE ESSENCE OF AMERICAN HUMOR
WRITING once of "The American Spirit in
Literature/ ' I tried to solve a problem which
had been haunting me for years : to give myself an
account of the peculiar and wonderful quality
which distinguishes the best that has been writ-
ten on this continent from all other writing what-
soever, from the days of gray-headed Chaldea
and Mother India down to the latest fantasies of
Maurice Maeterlinck and Gabriel d'Annunzio.
To lay a ghost, the magicians of the East always
have to evoke a demon. I find myself in much
the same case. In settling to my own satisfaction
that first haunting problem, I find I have called
up half a dozen more, just as difficult and just as
clamorous for solution. It happened in this way:
To show the visible presence and sunlit trans-
parence of the best American writing, I instanced
chiefly four story - tellers Bret Harte, Mark
Twain, G. W. Cable, and Mary Wilkins. But
all four of them, and especially the first two, ir-
resistibly suggest another quality besides the
American spirit namely, the quality of humor.
And so up springs the new demon, the infinitely
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THE ESSENCE OF AMERICAN HUMOR
tantalizing problem. What is American humor?
And if it differs from the humor of other lands,
from Aristophanes to Rabelais, from Chaucer to
Dickens, from the Ecclesiast to Hitopadesha,
wherein does the difference lie? Here, again, to
lay one ghost, we must raise another. Supposing
we have settled the question of humor; just as we
are folding our hands in placid satisfaction, we
suddenly remember that there is such a thing as
wit, and we are called on either to try a fall with
this new adversary or to admit ourselves dis-
gracefully vanquished.
I hope I have some humanity in my breast, for
I have already raised a whole army of sprites, and
in imagination see myself confronted with a host
of visionary readers, with haggard eyes and drawn
countenances, desperately asking: "What is a
joke? And how are you to know one if you see
it?" My justification for this wanton malice is
that I think I have discovered the charm to lay
these haunting presences to rest; that I have in
some sort discovered the true inwardness of humor,
and even been able to draw the shadowy line
dividing it from wit.
Here is a story which seems to me to come close
to the heart of the secret. The scene is laid in
the wild and woolly West. A mustang has been
stolen, a claim jumped, or a euchre pack found
to contain more right and left bowers than an
Arctic brig; and swift Nemesis has descended in
the form of Manila hemp. The time has come to
break the news to the family of the deceased. A
371
WHY THE WORLD LAUGHS
deputation goes ahead, and the leader knocks at
the door of the bereaved homestead, asking, "Does
Widow Smith live here?"
A stout and cheerful person replies, "I'm Mrs.
Smith, but I ain't no widow!"
The deputation answers: "Bet you a dollar you
are! But you've got the laugh on us, just the
same, for we've lynched the wrong man."
That story is irresistible. It is as full of sar-
donic fire as anything in all literature, but you
would hardly call it humor. It seems to me to
lie so directly on the border-line that we may use
it as a landmark.
_ The moral is this: humor consists in laughing
/ with the other man; wit, in laughing at him. There
is all the difference in the world. But in both
there must be laughter. And laughter is always
the fruit of a certain excess of power, of animal
or vital magnetism, drawn forth by a sense of
contrast or discrepancy. This story illustrates
each of these points. The discrepancy or con-
trast lies in the chasm between the terrible be-
reavement of widowhood and the jest that an-
nounces it. Even the Widow Smith must have
smiled. But after the first spasms of laughter
have passed, there remains the yawning gulf be-
fore her, in all its blackness. The story is really
infinitely bitter, and the laughter it calls up some-
thing of a snarl.
To laugh at the other man is invariably a trib-
ute to one's own egotism, a burning of incense
to oneself. It widens the chasm between the
372
THE ESSENCE OF AMERICAN HUMOR
two personalities, and sharpens the natural op-
position between man and man. In this way wit
is essentially demoralizing. It is also essentially
self-conscious. Watch the efforts of the con-
scientiously funny man, and you will see both
elements manifest themselves the self-conscious-
ness and the demoralization. The final result of
his efforts is contempt instead of admiration, and
a universal sadness overcasting the company he
has tried to move to mirth. Wit, therefore, dif-
fers from humor in this: that while both are ex-
pressed in laughter, arising from excess of 'animal
magnetism and called forth by a feeling of dis-
crepancy or contrast, wit is self-conscious and
egotistical, while humor is natural and humane.
One may call humane whatever recognizes our
common humanity, or, still more broadly, what-
ever recognizes our common life. For there
is a humanity toward animals. But if we look
deep enough, we shall find that behind our con-
scious intention we do perpetually recognize a
common life, a common soul; that we do this by
hating no less than by loving, by hostility as well
as by acts of gentlest charity. Behind all our
dramas of emotion grave or gay, passionate,
tragic, or mirthful behind avarice, ambition,
vanity, lies the deep intuition of our common
soul, and to this we in all things ultimately appeal.
We seek the envy of human beings, not of stones
or trees; we covet and lust for human ends; and
in even the blackest elements of our human lives
we are still paying tribute to our humanity, to
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WHY THE WORLD LAUGHS
the common soul. Even murderers would not
conspire together but for the sense of the common
soul in both.
But pity and compassion recognize the common
life, the common human soul; the very name of
sympathy means a suffering with some other. The
classic story of sympathy, the Good Samaritan,
owes its immortal power to this sense. First there
is the sympathy of the narrator with the afflicted
man and with his rescuer; and then the second
and communicated sympathy which all hearers
are compelled to feel with both, thus being brought
into the humane mood of the narrator, and recog-
nizing the common soul in themselves, in him, in
the sufferer, and in the Samaritan who relieved
his pain. This irresistible quality of sympathy,
this potent assertion of the common soul, has made
the story immortal, erecting the name of an ob-
scure Semitic clan into a synonym for humanity
and kindness.
Sympathy, compassion, the suffering with an-
other, are recognitions of the common soul in the
face of sorrow, in the face of suffering, in the face
of fate. The whole cycle of Greek tragedy is full
of this sense of universal man bearing in common
the mountainous burden of adverse and invincible
law. That line of Homer might characterize it
all: " Purple Death took him, and mighty Fate."
The bereavements of Hecuba, the madness and
death of Ajax, owe their undying power, not to
any quality of art or beauty, though they are
saturated and sultry with beauty, but to something
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THE ESSENCE OF AMERICAN HUMOR
greater still: to the sense of the common soul,
called up in us by sorrow, by danger, by affliction,
by death.
Consider the message of Galilee as an orderly
sequence to this. We have the same recognition
of the common soul, not so much in resignation
and submission to fate as in a certain warm and
subtle quality which outruns fate and makes it
powerless a quality of sympathy, of compassion,
of suffering with another, in virtue of which the
very shadows of Greek tragedy, sickness, sorrow,
affliction, become the lights of the picture, for
they testify to and evoke the common soul.
Rightly understood, this is the message of the
Evangel of Sorrow. When our complacence and
self-satisfied egotism are beaten down, this other
side of our nature arises; when we are less
full of ourselves, we have more room for
others, or, deeper still, more room for that
which we recognize in others, the one soul com-
mon to all humanity. All emotion, not com-
passion only, is contagious. All emotion testifies
to the common soul. We come to this result:
that humor is emotion expressing itself in laughter,
and called forth by a contrast or discrepancy.
But laughter is always the fruit of an excess of
vital magnetism, of power. Therefore, rightly
understood, humor is a contagion or sharing of ~
the sense of excess power, of abundant vitality,
of animal magnetism.
You can see now why we laid such stress upon
the Greek tragedy and its message. Sophocles
25 375
WHY THE WORLD LAUGHS
unites us through the sense of our common danger
and common pain. That is the darker side of
sympathy, the deep shadow of the picture. The
Galilean unites us through sympathy, the feeling
of kinjdness drawn forth by pain. But, if my
definition comes near the truth, real humor unites
us in a sense of our excess vitality, a sense of
mastery over fate; an intuition that the common
soul in us can easily conquer and outlast the long-
est night of sorrow, the deepest shadow of pain.
Humor thus becomes a very serious matter. It
becomes nothing less than the herald of our final
victory, the dawn of the golden age.
To go back a little to a point we raised before.
Wit is a sense of scoring off the other man, a
triumph over him, a sense of our excess vitality
as contrasted with his weakness, a mentally push-
ing him into the mud and gloating over him.
Now it is essentially unpleasant to be pushed into
the mud and laughed at, whether mentally or
bodily; and the successful wit's tribute to his
own egotism, so far from cementing the bonds of
man, really widens the chasm and sets up that
hostility between one personality and another
which is always the demoniac element in human
life. It follows that whatever separates persons
in feeling, though it may be the fodder of wit, is
fatal to humor, just as it is fatal to sympathy or
to gentle charity. Therefore, to have true humor,
we must first hold in abeyance the elements of hos-
tility, difference of race or rank, difference of faith
or hope. If the common soul be, as we have seen
376
THE ESSENCE OF AMERICAN HUMOR
it is, the last and highest reality behind all our
dramas of feeling and ambition, behind hate as
well as love, behind envy as well as kindliness,
then all these things which separate persons and
set them at variance, the dreams of different race
and rank, of different faiths and ideals, are but
shadows cast by our fancies in the light of the
common soul: that is the reality, while these are
dreams.
Humor, then, can know no difference of race.
For it, we are all human beings, all children of
the common soul. But humor will not appre-
hend this doctrine here; it will go far deeper, and
apprehend it as a visible presence, a reality touched
and felt, a direct intuition. For this reason, along
with many others, the best American humor
stands pre-eminent throughout the world and
through all time. It recognizes no difference of
race. li is free from that miserable tribal vanity
which is the root of half our human ills. The
Jewish spirit is perhaps the supreme instance
which human history affords of this tribal self-
love, with its reward of intensity and its punish-
ment of isolation. And as certainly as night fol-
lows day, or day night, we find in Jewish wit the
last essence of bitterness, the culmination of that
unhumane quality which eternally divides it from
humor. Read sentence after sentence of " Kohe-
leth, the Preacher" the living dog better than the
dead lion, the gibes at women, the perpetual
mockery at fools, the deep pessimism under it all
and you will realize how closely tribal zeal and
377
WHY THE WORLD LAUGHS
bitterness are bound together; how certainly the
keen sense of race difference closes the door of
that warm human heart from which alone humor
can come.
All Jewish writing, ancient or modern, has the
same defect. There is always the presence of
two qualities, seemingly unconnected, but in reality
bound very closely together a certain bitter
sensuality and a sardonic and mordant wit. Both
spring from the same thing: an overkeen sense
of bodily difference, whether of sex or of race.
The first sense of difference causes a subjection to
sex tyranny, which revenges itself in gibes and
epigrams, as with that uxorious king to whom
tradition accredits the Proverbs. The second,
the keen sense of race difference, breeds a hostile
and jealous spirit, a perpetual desire to exhibit
one's own superiority, to show off, to "get the
laugh on" the supposed inferior races and outer
barbarians, which, going with excess of vital
power a marvelous characteristic of the Jews-
will inevitably give birth to keen and biting wit,
but to humor never. The gibes of the Preacher,
the courtly insincerities of Disraeli, the morbid
sensuousness of Zola, all flow from the same race
character, and are moods of the same mind.
It is curious to see the same thing cropping up
in Alphonse Daudet, who was of mixed race, half
Jew, half Provengal. One may follow that fa-
mous image of his own, which describes the two
Tartarins Tar tarin- Quixote and Tartarin-San-
cho-Panza, or ; more familiarly, Tartarin Lapin-de-
378
THE ESSENCE OF AMERICAN HUMOR
garenne and Tartarin Lapin-de-choux and say
that there are two Daudets, Daudet-Koheleth and
Daudet-Tartarin: the one, the Semitic author of
Sappho, of Rose et Ninette, of Fromont Jeune et
Risler Aine; the other, the creator of the many-
sided, meridional Tartarin-Numa-Nabab. There
lies the difference between wit and humor, as it
is influenced by exclusiveness of race, or, to give
a foolish thing a commoner name, by tribal vanity.
To precisely the same category of wit springing
from tribal vanity belong the endless stories in
which the Germans score off the Russians, the
Russians score off the Germans; in which Mag-
yars and Austrians whet their satire on each other;
in which Bengalis try to get the laugh on Pun-
jabis; in which Frenchmen are witty about Miss
Bull's protruding front teeth, while Englishmen
revenge themselves by tales of the frog-eating
Mounseer. So that we have here a perfectly
definite line: if there is a play of the mind about
difference of race, using this as the laughter-
rousing contrast which is common to both wit
and humor, and if this play of thought and feeling
accentuates and heightens the race difference, and
tries to show, or assumes, as is oftener the case,
that the race of the joker is endlessly superior to
the other, then we are dealing with wit an amus-
ing thing enough in its way, but a false thing, one
which leads us away from the true end of man.
If, on the other hand, we have an accentuation
of the common life, bridging the chasm of race,
and the overplus of power is felt to be shared in
379
WHY THE WORLD LAUGHS
by the two races and to unite them, then we have
genuine humor something as vital to our true
humanity as is the Tragedy of Greece, as is the
Evangel of Galilee, yet something more joyful
and buoyant than either; uniting us, not through
compassion or the sense of common danger, but
through the sense of common power a prophecy
of the golden age, of the ultimate triumph of the
soul.
In this binding quality of humor Mark Twain's
best work stands easily supreme. Take the scenes
on the Mississippi in which the immortal trio, Tom
Sawyer, Huck Finn, and Jim the Nigger, play their
parts: they are as saturated with the sense of our
common life as is the story of the sorrow of Ajax
or the tale of the Samaritan. The author has felt
the humanity in his triad of heroes as deeply and
humanely as it can be felt; his work is sincere and
true throughout; it is full of that inimitable qual-
ity of contagion, the touchstone of all true art,
in virtue of which we vividly feel and realize what
the artist has vividly felt and realized. Through
every page we feel the difference of race, used as
an artistic contrast; but we are conscious of some-
thing more of overstepping the chasm, of bridg-
ing the abyss between black and white, American
and Ethiopian, bond and free. We have come
to the conclusion, long before Huck Finn puts
it in words, that Jim is a white man inside as
white as we are.
This binding of the two races has been accom-
plished before, in a famous American book; the
380
THE ESSENCE OF AMERICAN HUMOR
most successful, probably, that the New World
has yet produced. But in Uncle Tom the cement
is sentimentality rather than humor; the Galilean
sense of sympathy through common suffering
rather than through excess of power; it plays
round feelings and emotions which, however keen
and poignant, are not part of our everlasting in-
heritance; moreover, it is colored with a reHgious
pathos which, while it still saturates the minds
of the race mates of Uncle Tom, is quickly vanish-
ing from the hearts of his white masters, to give
place to something higher and better an assured
sense of the power of the soul. So marked has
been the growth of our spiritual consciousness in
the last generation, hitherto unconscious and
unrecorded, that we can confidently look forward
to a time when the fear of death will no longer be
valid as a motive of tragedy, any more than the
fear of hell is now a motor of morals. Therefore,
the mood of religion which colors Uncle Tom is a
far less enduring and vital thing than the robust
out-of-doors vitality of Tom Sawyer's Mississippi
days: and it is this quality, this buoyancy and
excess of power, which forms the necessary atmos-
phere of humor.
In another story, of a much earlier period, Mark
Twain has again used his genius to bridge the same
race chasm. It is that fine and epic tale of Cap-
tain Ned Blakely and his colored mate. Here
humor is reinforced by indignation, and both are
illuminated by fancy; but humor, the sense of
excess of power and of our common soul, is still
381
WHY THE WORLD LAUGHS
the dominant note. Yet the Tom Sawyer trio,
in those sunlit days on the great river, with the
raft floating along and the boys telling tales or
puffing at their corncob pipes or going in swim-
ming, is, and will probably long remain, the high-
water mark of humor and imaginative creation
for the New World the most genuinely American
thing ever written.
Bret Harte is of nearly equal value in his early
tales, but with this difference: that it is the chasm
of caste, not of race, which his great power bridges
over. Mark Twain does this abundantly, too.
Huck Finn, the outcast, the vagabond, the home-
less wanderer, with his patched breeches, his one
suspender, his perforated hat, is bone of our bone
and flesh of our flesh beyond the common meas-
ure of our kind; more, he is the superior of most
of us in humane simplicity, in ease of manner
and unconsciousness, in genuine kindness of heart.
But with Bret Harte, this bridging of chasms, this
humanizing of outcasts, of vagabonds, gamblers,
and waifs of either sex, is a passion, the dominant
quality of his rich and natural humor. That
nameless baby, the Luck of Roaring Camp, enlists
our heartiest sympathy from the first; so, indeed,
does his disreputable mother. We remember,
and we are conscious of a profound satisfaction
in remembering, that motherhood is always the
same, without regard to race, caste, color, or
creed. And with the excess of power in his ro-
bust miners, and their fine animal magnetism, as
of the primeval out-of-doors, comes the quality of
382
THE ESSENCE OF AMERICAN HUMOR
humor, like the touch of morning sunshine on the
red pine stems and granite boulders of the Rock-
ies, where is their home.
"The Outcasts of Poker Flat" is full of the
same leveling quality; a leveling up, not a leveling
down. The two real outcasts, the gambler and
the Rahab, are raised to a sense of their human
life, to a human dignity and self-sacrifice, by the
simplicity of their half -childish chance companions;
all barriers are broken down, and there remains
nothing but the common soul. There is a touch
of pathos in this tale, too, but rather as a contrast
than as a primary element; yet the fine feeling is
humor victory, not defeat; not weakness, but
power. "M'liss," one of the finest things Bret
Harte ever wrote, is full of the same quality the
quality of charity, of sympathy with outcasts;
or, to come to the true name, it is full of the sense
of the common soul under all differences. More
than that, we are all through conscious of a feel-
ing that the essential truth is with M'liss in her
wildness; that she is more at home in the universe
than we are, feels more kindred with the enduring
things the green forests, the sunshine, the wind,
the stars in the purple sky, the primal passions of
the human heart.
If genius thus bridges over the greater chasms
of our life, we need hardly say that it still more
easily and certainly passes over the less; but
there is one chasm which it is worth while to speak
of more fully the chasm between childhood and
age. American humor has discovered the child
383
WHY THE WORLD LAUGHS
for the purposes of literature. The reason is, with-
out doubt, that Americans are the only people
who treat their children as autonomous citizens;
who make it stuff of the conscience to give their
children the utmost possible freedom, and rouse
them to a sense of responsibility. Think of how
children were kept down and suppressed, even
oppressed, in the Old World, only a generation
or two ago, and you have the reason why the child
of European literature is such a failure. I know
not whether it has ever been said before, but the
children of the greatest writer of them all are stiff
and unnatural to a marvelous degree, so that we
hardly regret Macbeth's bringing to an end that
precocious and sententious youngster who moral-
izes to his mamma. It is with a feeling of relief
that we read the stage direction, "Dies." Let
him rest in peace.
Contrast with the deceased child those two
inimitable creations of American humor, Budge
and Toddy, in Helen's Babies, one of the best
books this continent has yet seen. In every
point of reality, as far as child life is concerned,
Habberton is the superior of Shakespeare, who in
so much else is the superior of all other men. Tom
Sawyer is also a most notable child in literature;
but of course he is ever so much older than
Budge and Toddy, and therefore the chasm is not
so wide, and the honor of bridging it less. Yet
there is something inimitable in the way he " shows
off" when the new girl comes to the village, and,
let me add, something irresistibly American. Up
384
THE ESSENCE OF AMERICAN HUMOR
to the present, I have not been able to determine
at what age Tom Sawyer's fellow-countrymen drop
the habit, or at any rate the desire, of showing
off; I am, indeed, strongly convinced that nothing
more serious than that selfsame human weakness
is the root of all the millionairism which seems to
fill so large a space in our horizons. It is the de-
sire to possess the stage properties essential to
successful showing off which keeps the million-
aires so busy; and it is to be surmised that, as
in Tom Sawyer's case, the "new girl" is the
audience of the play.
Speaking of the new girl calls attention to the
fact that, so far, Budge, Toddy, and Tom Sawyer,
the hierarchy of American boys, have no sisters.
There are no little girls of the first magnitude in
American literature. Perhaps the English Alice
in Wonderland is the high-water mark among lit-
tle girls; but, wonderful achievement as she is,
and absorbing as are her adventures, the atmos-
phere of cards and chessmen which surrounds her
is very different from the broad river bosom, the
sweet-smelling woods, the echoing hills of night
under the stars, where Tom Sawyer and Huck
Finn play their parts. So infinitely does nature
outweigh fancy.
Having established our canon, we can now apply
it. We do, in fact, find that the masterpieces of
American humor were conceived in an atmos-
phere possessing exactly the qualities we have out-
lined. There was the broad and humane sense
of this our life, of our common nature, our com-
385
WHY THE WORLD LAUGHS
mon soul, overleaping all barriers whatsoever;
the distinctions of race and caste, of rich and poor,
dwindling to their real insignificance or forgotten
altogether; this binding of hearts taking place,
not through the sense of our common tragedy,
our common servitude to fate, as in ^Eschylus and
Sophocles, nor in pity and compassion, as in the
Evangel of Galilee, but with a certain surcharge
and overplus of power, a buoyancy, a sense of
conquest, which could best come with the first
youth of a strong young nation, and which did,
in fact, come in the harvest of success following
that fine outburst of manliness and adventure,
the mining campaign of '49.
One characteristic of the finest humor, touched
on already, we must come back to the quality
of unconsciousness. Neither Bret Harte nor
Mark Twain, when they wrote of the Luck, of
M'liss, of Captain Ned Blakely, of Buck Fan-
shaw and Scotty Briggs, had any idea how great
they were, or even that they were great at
all; they never dreamed that these sketches
for the local journal would outlive the week
that saw their birth, and at last make the cir-
cuit of the world, becoming a part of the per-
manent wealth of man. This unconsciousness
gives these stories their inimitable charm. There
is none of the striving of the funny man in what
belongs to that first period, no setting of traps
for our admiration. This is the same as saying
that there is none of that instinct of egotism which
prompts a man to laugh at his fellow, to show how
386
THE ESSENCE OF AMERICAN HUMOR
much wiser and cleverer he himself is. It is all
free, generous, and bountiful as the sunshine of
the land where it was conceived, full of the spon-
taneous life of Nature herself. As there is in the
simplest heart a wisdom that outweighs all phi-
losophy, in the most untutored soul a faith that
the schools and doctors know nothing of, so there
is in these first fruits of genius a fresh charm that
no art can emulate; we recognize the wisdom and
handiwork, not of the immediate artificer, but of
the great master builder, the one enduring soul,
common to all men through all time. There is
the sense of the unprecedented, of creative power,
in all works of genius; it shines forth brightly in
the best work of American literature, and most
brightly in the first fruits of American humor.
It is not so agreeable to complete our inventory;
for we are forced to see that much of what passes
for humor nowadays is not humor at all, but its
imitation and baser counterfeit that wit which
is marred by egotism and vanity, which springs
from the desire to shine, to show off, to prove
oneself smarter than one's fellows, to air the
superior qualities of one's mind. Let us devoutly
hope that this mood of self-consciousness, like its
cousin, the shyness of the half man, half boy, is
transient only; that it will presently give place
to something more mellow amd humane. How
often we feel, when we read the productions of
this class, that the writer, as he made each point,
was lit up with a little explosion of vanity; that
he was terribly self-conscious; that he bridled and
387
WHY THE WORLD LAUGHS
pranced within him, to think he was not as other
men! Instead of that fine and humorous tale of
Pharisee and Publican, we might write one of the
humorist and the wit, the child of genius and the
funny man; and the moral would be just the
same. In the one case, a sense of peace, of hit-
ting the mark, of adding to our human wealth, of
reaching the true end of man; in the other, a cer-
tain tickling of the sensations, it is true, but, with
it, dissatisfaction, unrest, a sense of vanity, with
final bankruptcy staring us in the face. Self-
consciousness is fatal to humor. It is as dis-
appointing as that habit certain people have,
whose sex and age we shall not specify, of always
thinking of their clothes, or of your clothes, or
of some one else's clothes; their society is not
joy and gladness, nor does it bring us nearer to
the golden age.
It would be with genuine joy of heart that I
should record, if conscience allowed me, that
American life seems, on the whole, to be flowing
in the direction which leads to humor rather than
to wit the direction which leads away from
tribal and personal vanity, from the lamentable
longing to show off, from self-consciousness and
egotism, toward the common heart of man. But
this, at least, can with certainty be said: that
only as the great tide thus sets toward the better
goal; only when the desire of wealth gives way
to humane sympathy and inherent power; when
the barriers of caste, so untimely and anomalous
here, are broken down; when the tribal vanity of
388
THE ESSENCE OF AMERICAN HUMOR
fancied race superiority is forgotten; when self-
consciousness and the longing for stage proper-
ties are left behind, merged in that large urbanity
which is the essence at once of real culture and
of true breeding only then will a real develop-
ment of humor be possible. But this humanizing
of our hearts is in itself not enough, though it is
essential and not to be replaced: there must also
be a sense of power, of lightness, of success; a
surplus of magnetism and vital energy, like that
surcharge of life which, having molded root and
stem and leaves, bursts forth in beauty in the
flower. All this is needful, and by no means
to be dispensed with; yet to all this must
be added something more, something which, by
all our taking thought, we can never gain that
superb fire of genius which comes not with ob-
servation, but is the best gift and creative handi-
work of our everlasting human soul.
THE END
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