AMERICAN HUMOR.
The burden of foreign criticism of the people of the United States may
be expressed in the language of the vulgar by saying that we are “too
fresh.” Well, if we are, we have the salt that will save us, and that
salt is American Humor.
Whatever may be the failing of any American, whether native or adopted,
he may generally be depended upon for a sense of humor. If there is no
other point of contact between him and the stranger who encounters him,
it is quite safe to fall back upon humor as a common meeting ground.
This is the only country in the world in which everybody indulges in
joking. Other countries have their wits and humorists who are a special
class among themselves. But here any and every man must have a sense of
humor and know how to use it if he wants to get along with his
fellow-citizens.
Some of our most humorous men are solemn judges. Others are physicians.
Editors are humorists as a matter of course, and even the clergyman
with a level head leans to the belief that his education is incomplete
until he can turn a joke as well as he can preach a sermon.
We joke about everything. This does not mean that we make fun of
everything, but that, as everything has its possible humorous side, we
are competent to see it and call attention to it.
There is no department of American history, political, military, social
or religious, in which traces of the humorist may not be found. There
was considerable sense of fun among the grim old fellows who came over
in the Mayflower, as any one may find out for himself if he will take
the trouble to look to the original records, and in the many volumes of
correspondence which have appeared in genealogical history of the first
families of New England. There is quite as much sense of humor
manifested as in similar records of the first families of Virginia. It
is the custom in history to draw a sharp dividing line between these two
classes of American pioneers, but the line disappears as soon as one
gets beneath the surface. Solemnity and seriousness, whether counterfeit
or genuine, can be maintained for only a certain length of time by any
one. So Puritan and Cavalier speedily went back to a distinguishing
trait of their common ancestors in the old country, and improved upon
it.
In the United States no subject is too sacred to joke about; or, at
least, too sacred to be examined in the light of humor. Americans as a
class are a reverent people. They would not for the world make fun of
the Deity, but many of them talk of the most sacred sentiments and
personages with a familiarity and play of humor which terribly shock
some of the formalists from the other side of the water. When Mr. Lowell
wrote his earlier series of the “Bigelow Papers” his verses were read
with much curiosity and some delight in Europe, but suddenly the entire
English press was horrified by his lines:
“You’ve got to get up airly
Ef you want to take in God.”
This was pronounced by one high English literary authority the most
irreverent and blasphemous expression that ever had appeared in print;
but Mr. Lowell replied by saying that familiarity was not irreverence;
that the early American was intimately acquainted with his God--he had
to be. There was no other friend upon whom he could rely, and
conscientiously he talked about Him in a half playful but always
affectionate manner, which was the custom regarding the earthly parents
of the period.
It is impossible to go anywhere in American society, no matter how high
nor how serious the subject under consideration may be, without
encountering, generally to the hearer’s benefit, the American spirit of
humor. Congress may be in session and the country almost convulsed by
some grave discussion which is going on, nevertheless on the floor of
the House and far more in the committee-rooms and in the lobby one is
sure to hear the strongest arguments advanced in humorous form. They are
called jokes, but some new word should be coined to give them the
dignity which their usefulness has enabled them to attain.
The most serious man in appearance in the United States, excepting none
of the early Puritan divines, was probably the late President Lincoln.
His visage was not only earnest and solemn but positively mournful
whenever it was in repose. He was a debater of high order, he was a
logician whom men who had held him in contempt for his homely ways and
awkward manner learned to respect as soon as they crossed verbal swords
with him, but Lincoln’s strongest argument was always a joke. He said
and wrote many things which were grand in their day, but which seemed to
have been entombed in printed pages and diplomatic papers, for one
seldom hears them quoted now-a-days; yet his jokes still live. They are
perennial, not merely those which were attributed to him, but those
which he really made. “To clinch a point,” which was one of his own
favorite expressions, he tried the patience of his Cabinet severely at
times by persisting in joking upon serious subjects--matters of great
moment at the time; and it is said upon good authority that once he
opened the Cabinet meeting called specially with the hope of averting
great disaster to the Union cause by reading the last printed letter of
“Petroleum V. Nasby on the Democratic doings at Confederit X Roads,
State ov Kentucky.” Before the meeting was over, however, Mr. Lincoln
read his Emancipation Proclamation. While Mr. Seward, as able and adroit
a man as ever held the portfolio of Secretary of State, would be
wondering how to reply to an annoying committee or deputation which had
come from some one of the Northern States to instruct the Government how
to carry on the war, Mr. Lincoln was quietly constructing a little joke
or recalling one from his past experiences which would be appropriate to
the occasion, and after the joke was inflicted upon the committee Mr.
Seward was sure to find that his own carefully prepared speech was
entirely unnecessary.
But it is not only in political circles that humor has been made to
serve the cause of good government, good morals and the highest degree
of righteousness in the United States. The members of the Supreme Court
of the United States are all practical jokers; that is, they all are
fond of avoiding a long-winded argument by telling a story illustrative
of the question at issue. Ministers do the same. A meeting of clergymen
of any denomination is likely to result in some very sharp discussion
which closely approaches to ill temper, but in such cases some one may
always be depended upon to get up and tell a humorous story which gives
point to the proceedings, and also gives them a new direction and acts
like oil upon the troubled waters. Humor is tolerated even in the
pulpit. The late Henry Ward Beecher frequently made his congregation
laugh on Sunday, and some of the newspapers criticised him severely for
it, but he seldom lost a parishioner on that account, and thousands of
people--who never otherwise would have heard him--were brought under his
spiritual influence by appreciation of a faculty that drew them into
closer sympathy with him as a man. A preacher of a very different stamp,
the Rev. Sam Jones, of Georgia, never hesitates to tell funny stories,
always illustrative of his subject, while delivering his talks, and Sam
addresses larger congregations than any other American preacher of the
present time.
Humor makes its way everywhere in the United States. Newspapers are full
of it, and the most high-toned and serious of them find it necessary to
supply their readers with jokes. A New Yorker recently held a neighbor
to account for reading habitually a very serious and almost bilious
daily newspaper. “I don’t read it much,” said he, “but I buy it because
its funny column contains a better assortment of jokes than any other
paper in the city.” The principal editorial writer of a large New York
daily paper, a paper of wide circulation and great influence, once
complained to the managing editor that all the point of a leading
article to which he had devoted two days of thought had been expressed
in the paragraph column by a joke one line long.
The public meeting is the truest, the fairest expression of American
opinion in any given locality, but in the public meeting it is always
the humorist who sways the audience and carries the day. He may be one
of the stated speakers, a man of great wisdom and force, for wisdom and
wit are closely allied in the American nature, however the celebrated
couplet of the late Alexander Pope about “great wit and madness” may
seem to indicate the contrary. In the great political discussions, now
historic, which once were conducted by Abraham Lincoln and Senator
Douglas, when both were comparatively young men, and the Democratic
champion got his adversary into a corner, as occasionally he did,
Lincoln always got out of his predicament with a joke--never with an
argument--and the audience never failed to see the point. This shows the
universality of the American sense of humor. In any other country of the
world the peasantry, who are the nearest possible parallel to the
farmers of America, are stupid and dull of comprehension, but an
American crowd, no matter how far away from the centres of civilization,
nor how solemn, and serious, and weary, and dull of comprehension their
faces may seem, can always be depended upon to take the point of a joke.
They are equally quick to resent an attempt at humor which is not
correctly and sharply pointed. They are all humorists themselves. Get a
seat on the wagon of a farmer driving along a country road and engage
the man in conversation, and you will hear more sharp, pithy, humorous
sayings than you are apt to get from any professed wit in polite
society. Let the man meet a brother farmer coming from the opposite
direction, and, although the conversation will naturally turn on the
crops, and the taxes, and local government, and family or individual
misfortunes, the conversation is sure to be spiced with humor. In other
countries it seems to require a jolly fellow, a man of high spirits, to
say funny things; but here, if you chance not to expect the man of
solemn visage, the man bowed down with care, to break out humorously,
you are sure to be agreeably disappointed.
Even in stated religious meetings this quality of the American nature
frequently displays itself unexpectedly, but always with effect. As
solemn and religious gathering as can be seen in the United States is
the camp-meeting in the far West, where people come from many miles
around to listen to the only form of religious service which they have
the privilege of attending. The sermons and prayers are intensely
earnest. The speakers have an immense sense of responsibility of the
duties incumbent upon them, but in sermon, and even sometimes in prayer,
expressions break forth which show that in no circumstances can the
native American be free from the domination of his sense of humor. The
most powerful individual influence that ever existed in the Western
camp-meetings, according to historians sacred and profane, was a man
named Peter Cartright, a Methodist preacher. He would move audiences to
tears and sometimes to groans by the eloquence and earnestness of his
preaching, yet suddenly, at the most unexpected times, he would say
things that would put his entire congregation into paroxysms of
laughter. The purpose of the meeting never was disturbed by these
discursive efforts. They were as much to the point as the most earnest
statements and exhortations which he had previously made, and were
entirely in keeping with the general intentions of the service.
Passing from conversation to printed utterances, it may be safely said
that the humorous writings of Americans have been more read than any
other literature which has appeared from our press. We have many able
editors in the United States, but those most read are those who say the
funniest things. There never was a more influential editor in the United
States than the late George D. Prentice, who for a long time managed the
newspaper which now is the Louisville _Courier-Journal_. Prentice was a
Whig, but probably half of his readers were Democrats. They didn’t like
his politics, but they couldn’t get along without his fun. His paper was
published in a Southern State, a slave State, but more than half of its
circulation was in the free States of the North. While Prentice lived
there was scarcely a post-office in the Mississippi or Ohio Valley which
did not receive copies of it by mail. Its influence extended as far
North as Chicago and the North-western States, and the local paper which
didn’t repeat his humorous bits was likely to be informed by its readers
that there must be a reform in that direction. For many years the most
popular portion of the very good editorial page of one of the most
prominent daily papers of New York was its humorous editorial. The
topics of the writer were seldom those of the great interests of the
day, yet people read it, turned to it the first thing, talked about it
to their friends, compelled them to read it, and felt lost when the
writer of those articles was transferred to a different field of labor.
We have some popular poets in the United States, but it is doubtful
whether the works of any of them have been as much read as Mr. Lowell’s
“Bigelow Papers.” Mr. Lowell is no mean poet himself; there are critics
who insist that he has not an equal among American versifiers, but the
humorous verses just alluded to have made him better known than all of
his more serious efforts, and it is believed by intelligent men of all
parties that it had immense effect in bringing about the political
changes which immediately preceded the late civil war.
During the civil war there were many editors who used to say, with some
evidence of annoyance, that they wished they could be read as much as
Nasby. Nasby was an Ohio editor who invented a scene and some characters
in the South, and wrote about them so persistently and with such a
realistic air that his effusions were copied regularly in almost all of
the Republican papers of the land. Another man who was more read than
any editor of the day was Artemas Ward. He did not go into politics to
any great extent, but what he did say was so accurately satirical that
nearly everybody read it and was the wiser for it. The mistakes of our
generals, the blunders of our government and the crimes of many of our
contractors were the subject of a great deal of vigorous editorial
writing, but no one succeeded in bringing them so forcibly to the
attention of the public as a wit who wrote under the _nom de plume_ of
Orpheus C. Kerr. During the same period there were facts in the local
history of New York extremely uncomplimentary to one great political
party, and the opposing party lost no opportunity to disclose them and
criticise them in editorial columns and news columns, but one man was
more read than all others combined. It was the man who wrote the satire
entitled “The New Gospel of Peace,” in which the doings of the alleged
Peace Party were set forth in humorous style.
At the present time the men whose writings are most read are not the
historians, editors, essayists, or even novelists. They are the
humorists. Bill Nye is more read than any novelist in the United States.
So is James Whitcomb Riley. In Chicago there are a number of able
journalists, but the one most quoted by name not only in his own city
but throughout the Union is Eugene Field, whose humor finds no subject
too great or too small to dwell upon. A little while ago an _edition de
luxe_ of his humorous prose and verse was published at a very high
price, and some of the later would-be subscribers found to their disgust
that the list was full and no more books could be supplied. Is there any
poet or novelist in the United States who has had a commercial
experience like this?
Mr. John Hay, once a Secretary of President Lincoln, and afterward a
hard-working journalist, is also a poet, and has perpetrated some
graceful verses, but when any one offers to quote a bit from John Hay,
the hearers always understand that it will be something humorous. His
dialect poems do not exceed half-a-dozen, yet they seem as popular now
as when first written twenty years ago. They were not carefully
elaborated; the author is said to have dashed them off in a hurry as a
relief from hard editorial work, but they struck the popular heart at
once, probably because, like most other American humor, there was a
basis of seriousness and sense to them. The finale of his poem, “Little
Breeches,”--a poetic story of a lost child who was saved, as his father
supposed, by angels, will long be the most popular and effective protest
against formal religious ideas. He says of the angels:
“I think that savin’ a little child
And bringin’ him back to his own
Is a durn sight better bizness
Than loafin’ round the throne.”
Was there ever a greater commercial success in literature than that
achieved by Mark Twain? The combined books of the most successful
American novelist have not sold as many copies as one of Mark Twain’s
books. Why? Because Mark Twain is funny--because he knows how to say
something in a way in which nobody else has said it. Scores of other men
have written about the Holy Land and our own West, but it was not until
“Innocents Abroad” and “Roughing It” appeared that people in general
began to manifest a lively interest in these portions of the world.
Innumerable sketches have been written about life on the Mississippi
River in the old days before railroads and emancipation, but all of them
combined did not “catch” the public as successfully as “Huckleberry
Finn.” The latter was humorous, the others were not; there was no other
point of difference.
It does not matter, to the American people, from where humor comes, so
it really is humorous and has a point to it. We will take it in any
shape or dialect. One of the great successes of humorous literature
during the civil war was that achieved by Col. Charles G. Halpine, who
made a mythical Irish soldier, “Private Miles O’Reilly,” his mouthpiece
for a lot of humorous criticisms of the Government, the army and navy.
During the same period there arose a Southerner, signing himself “Bill
Arp,” who made some hard hits, in humorous style, at the North; somehow
they found their way through the lines and were freely reprinted at the
North. In later years another Southerner--the creator of “Uncle Remus,”
put a lot of delightful stories into negro dialect, and a host of people
at once began to quote them. In New York Mr. Julian Ralph wrote a lot of
humorous sketches under the general head of “The German Barber,” and the
newspaper press began to quote them. Across the ocean Max O’Rell began
to satirize the English people and customs, and straightway his books
sold better here than abroad.
On the stage and platform, as everywhere else, humor is the most popular
and attractive feature. A few years ago, before the theatrical companies
could easily reach any city or large town, the lecture was a favorite
means of entertainment, and more than three hundred Americans and
foreigners were busy every winter in hurrying from town to town to
deliver lectures. The three hundred have been reduced almost to three,
but there is room there still for any one who has anything humorous to
say. “Bob” Burdette, more popularly known as “The Burlington _Hawk-eye
Man_,” works himself almost to death every winter in going all over the
United States to give his humorous recitations. He is a very religious
man, and a working Baptist, but people never ask him for a religious
address: they always want to hear his fun. Another of the few successful
men remaining on the platform is A. P. Burbank, a man who for ten years
has determined every year to go upon the stage in legitimate comedy, but
so humorous are his recitations and so effective his manner in
delivering them that those who have heard him before insist upon hearing
him more, and he goes again and again to towns where he has been a dozen
times before, each time to find his audience larger and more
appreciative, and each time to receive the assurance that they will want
him again the following winter. Little Marshal Wilder, who never took a
lesson in elocution in his life, and has been cruelly handicapped by
nature, attempts merely to make people laugh; he succeeds, so he seldom
is allowed to have an evening to himself, and when the “platform” season
is ended here goes over to England and has three or four engagements a
night.
Everybody knows that on the stage humor takes better than anything else.
There may be a great tragedy well presented on the boards of a city
theatre, or a brilliant spectacle, or a so-called emotional drama which
appeals to everything improper in human nature, but the theatre which is
presenting a good comedy can always depend upon holding its own. No
dead-head seats are to be had at such theatres. The manager can always
depend upon getting money for all the room at his disposal. The fun may
be very rough, sometimes it is decidedly vulgar, but people ask as few
questions and make as few protests against fun, no matter what its kind,
as drunkards do against the quality of their whiskey.
American appreciation of humor may be found also in the number and wide
circulation of periodicals devoted entirely to fun. There used to be a
theory that there was no room for a humorous paper in the United States
because the ordinary dailies and weeklies indulged in so much fun
themselves. But after the enormous success of _Puck_, _Judge_, _Life_,
and some other periodicals, it is useless to argue any longer on the
subject. After a political or social question has been apparently worn
threadbare in editorials and essays, out comes one of these papers with
a pithy saying or a good cartoon that carries more influence than all
the serious talk combined. It matters little upon which side of the
question, even in politics, these professional humorists are found.
Their hits when well made are cheerfully acknowledged even by their own
enemies. During the palmy days of the New York ring, Mr. Nast, the
cartoonist of _Harper’s Weekly_, was offered an annual allowance several
times larger than his salary if he would give up work entirely and go
abroad. Humor and high character are often allied; one of the strongest
illustrations of the fact is that Mr. Nast without any hesitation
refused this valuable offer. Some of the abuses of local government in
New York have been more effectually fought by Mr. Keppler and his
associate artists in _Puck_ than by all the work of editors, lawyers and
judges. _Puck’s_ influence in politics became so great that before the
last Presidential campaign began it became absolutely necessary for the
party which it was fighting to start a humorous pictorial journal of
their own, and it was quite safe to suppose that it was influential in
the political results that followed.
A delightful thing about humorous writings is that no one seems jealous
of their influence or afraid to give them greater prominence. The only
complaint which the publishers of the humorous weeklies have to make
against their brethren of the daily press is, that their own circulation
might be better were not so many of their good things promptly reprinted
everywhere. No sooner does one of these papers come from the press than
its best sayings are scissored and reprinted in a thousand or more
papers. Almost any daily paper of large circulation seems to think it
necessary to have a humorist of its own. They pay more for humorous
contributions than for any other class of matter, and all of them are
more keenly on the look-out for a new humorist than for a possible
Presidential candidate. The readers of the daily press quote for one
another the funny sayings of their favorite paper long before they think
of mentioning the other contents; indeed, most of them are so absorbed
by the fun that they don’t seem to have remembered anything else.
We cannot possibly overestimate the value of our national faculty of
seeing the humorous side of things. It keeps us from making ourselves
ridiculous; it prevents us, both as individuals and a people, from being
laughed at for anything we may do in sober earnest. It is very hard, in
this day and land, for any man, society, party or church to be a fool
without hearing about it in a good-natured way that robs the rebuke of
its sting. It is not so in other countries.
But our sense of humor does still more for us. It smooths numberless
rough places in the pathway of a people whose road is not easy to
travel. It averts many a quarrel, closes dangerous breaches, and is balm
to wounds that otherwise would smart. It is almost always harmless.
There are men and women whose fun always lingers upon incidents that are
vulgar, but this is a fault of perverted minds--not of the humorous
spirit. It is a better introduction, between strangers, than any letter
or form of words, and it expresses much in little, doing it more
effectively than any of the wise saws and proverbs of more serious
races. It seems irrepressible and omnipresent; a man or woman may be too
tired or sick to reason or to think, but whoever saw an American too
weary to see the point of a joke or to offer another in return? We need
to preserve our humor almost as carefully as if it were our character,
for should we ever lose it our character will be the worse for the
change.