TOAST: COMEDY AND TRAGEDY.

I BELIEVE in the medicine of mirth, and in what I might call the

longevity of laughter. Every man who has caused real, true, honest

mirth, has been a benefactor of the human race. In a world like this,

where there is so much trouble--a world gotten up on such a poor

plan--where sometimes one is almost inclined to think that the Deity, if

there be one, played a practical joke--to find, I say, in such a world,

something that for the moment allows laughter to triumph over sorrow,

is a great piece of good fortune. I like the stage, not only because

General Sherman likes it--and I do not think I was ever at the theatre

in my life but I saw him--I not only like it because General Washington

liked it, but because the greatest man that ever touched this grain of

sand and tear we call the world, wrote for the stage, and poured out

a very Mississippi of philosophy and pathos and humor, and everything

calculated to raise and ennoble mankind.

I like to see the stage honored, because actors are the ministers, the

apostles, of the greatest man who ever lived, and because they put

flesh upon and blood and passion within the greatest characters that

the greatest man drew. This is the reason I like the stage. It makes us

human. A rascal never gained applause on the stage. A hypocrite never

commanded admiration, not even when he was acting a clergyman--except

for the naturalness of the acting. No one has ever yet seen any play

in which, in his heart, he did not applaud honesty, heroism, sincerity,

fidelity, courage, and self-denial. Never. No man ever heard a great

play who did not get up a better, wiser, and more humane man; and no man

ever went to the theatre and heard Robson and Crane, who did not go home

better-natured, and treat his family that night a little better than on

a night when he had not heard these actors.

I enjoy the stage; I always did enjoy it. I love the humanity of it. I

hate solemnity; it is the brother of stupidity--always. You never knew a

solemn man who was not stupid, and you never will. There never was a

man of true genius who had not the simplicity of a child, and over whose

lips had not rippled the river of laughter--never, and there never will

be. I like, I say, the stage for its wit and for its humor. I do not

like sarcasm; I do not like mean humor. There is as much difference

between humor and malicious wit as there is between a bee's honey and

a bee's sting, and the reason I like Robson and Crane is that they have

the honey without the sting.

Another thing that makes me glad is, that I live in an age and

generation and day that has sense enough to appreciate the stage; sense

enough to appreciate music; sense enough to appreciate everything

that lightens the burdens of this life. Only a few years ago our dear

ancestors looked upon the theatre as the vestibule of hell; and every

actor was going "the primrose way to the everlasting bonfire." In those

good old days, our fathers, for the sake of relaxation, talked about

death and graves and epitaphs and worms and shrouds and dust and hell.

In those days, too, they despised music, cared nothing for art; and

yet I have lived long enough to hear the world--that is, the civilized

world--say that Shakespeare wrote the greatest book that man has ever

read. I have lived long enough to see men like Beethoven and Wagner put

side by side with the world's greatest men--great in imagination--and we

must remember that imagination makes the great difference between men.

I have lived long enough to see actors placed with the grandest and

noblest, side by side with the greatest benefactors of the human race.

There is one thing in which I cannot quite agree with what has been

said. I like tragedy, because tragedy is only the other side of the

shield and I like both sides. I love to spend an evening on the twilight

boundary line between tears and smiles. There is nothing that pleases me

better than some scene, some act, where the smile catches the tears

in the eyes; where the eyes are almost surprised by the smile, and the

smile touched and softened by the tears. I like that. And the greatest

comedians and the greatest tragedians have that power; and, in

conclusion, let me say, that it gives me more than pleasure to

acknowledge the debt of gratitude I owe, not only to the stage, but to

the actors whose health we drink to-night.

The Works of Robert G. Ingersoll, Vol. 12 (of 12) Dresden Edition—Miscellany · 第 29 / 98 题