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THE PSYCHOLOGY OF LAUGHTER

Boris Sidis, Ph.D., M.D.

© 1913, 1919, 1923

 

CHAPTER V

RIDICULE AND SOCIAL DECADENCE

        Old worn-out ideals, beliefs, and decrepit institutions meet with ridicule. Thus Lucian jibes at the worn-out ancient deities and myths; the Humanists in various pamphlets such as the "Epistolae Virorum Obscurum" ridicule the Catholic church; Voltaire makes merry over the supposed glories and optimistic views of the philosophers of the eighteenth century; Bernard de Mandeville ridicule the optimistic ethic of Shaftsbury and of the Cambridge idealists.

        Perhaps a few examples taken from the writings of Lucian and Aristophanes may best illustrate our point of view.

        In his "Icaro-Menippus" Lucian directs his shafts of poignant ridicule against the metaphysical and philosophical speculations, as well as against the whole fabric of ancient tradition and religious beliefs. He jeers at the philosopher, and hobnobs with the once mighty Zeus.

        "I engaged them (the philosophers)," Menippus tells his friend, "to teach me the perfect knowledge of the universe; but so far were they from removing my ignorance, that they only threw me into greater doubt and uncertainty by puzzling me with atoms, vacuums, beginnings, ends, ideas, forms, and so forth. The worst of all was that though none agreed with the rest in what they advanced, but were all of contrary opinions, yet did every one of them expect that I should embrace his tenets and subscribe to his doctrine." Menippus became an aeronaut, an aetheronaut would probably be more correct, by taking an eagle's wing and that of a vulture and flew to Olympus to visit Jupiter. Lucian takes here the occasion to put the course and turmoil of human life in a ludicrous light.

        I had much to; to relate it to you is impossible. . . . The Getae at war, the Scythians traveling in their caravans, the Egyptians tilling their fields, the Phoenicians merchandising, the Cilicians robbing and plundering, the Spartans flogging their children, and the Athenians perpetually quarreling and going to law with one another.
 

        When all this was going on at the same time you may imagine what a strange scene it appeared to me. It was just as if a number of singers were met together, every one singing his own song, each striving to drown other's voice by bawling as loud as he could. You may well fancy what kind of a concert this would make.

Friend. Truly ridiculous and confused, no doubt.

Menippus. And yet such, my friend, are all the poor performers upon earth, and such is the discordant music of human life. Not only are the voices all dissonant and inharmonious, but the forms and habits differ, they move in various directions and agree in nothing, till at length the great master of the choir drives every one from the stage, and tells him he is no longer wanted there. In this wide extensive theater, full of variations and shapes and forms, everything was a matter of laughter and ridicule. . . . You have so often seen a crowd of ants running to and fro and out of their city, some turning up a bit of dung, others dragging a bean, shell, or running away with half a grain of wheat. I have no doubt but they have architects, demagogues, senators, musicians and philosophers among them.

Menippus appears before Jupiter, who is treated by the adventurer with a most patronizing familiarity. The conversation that follows is full of jests and jibes on the petty character of that august divinity, the father of the gods.

As we went along, he asked me several questions about earthly matters, such as "How much corn is there at present in Greece? Had you had a hard winter last year? Did your cabbages need rain? Is any of Phidias` family alive now? What is the reason that the Athenians have left off sacrificing to me for so many years? Do the think of building up the Olympian temple again?" When I had answered all these questions, "Pray Menippus," said he, "what does mankind really think of me?" "How should they think of you," said I, "but with the utmost veneration that you are the great sovereign of the gods?" "There you jest."


Nothing can be more ludicrous than this jesting conversation, this patronizing familiarity and small gossip with the mighty father of gods and men. Jupiter complains that his altars are as cold and neglected as Plato's laws or the syllogisms of Chrysippus.
 

        The most ludicrous scene is the description of Jupiter attending to business and petitions.

We came to the place where the petitions were to be heard. Here we found several holes with covers to them. Jupiter goes from hole to hole, removes the lid from each hole listening to the various prayers, petitions, vows, news gossip. There is a sort of a chimney with a lid for the fumes of sacrifice to ascend to the abode of the gods.

After the business is over Menippus is invited to dinner. The description is full of fun and mockery.

Ceres served us with bread, Bacchus with wine, Hercules handed about the flesh, Venus scattered myrtles and Neptune brought us fish. I got slyly a little nectar and ambrosia; for my friend Ganymede, if he saw Jove looking another way, would frequently throw me in a cup or two.



Nothing could be more fatal to the dignity and prestige of the ancient religions than this jovial hobnobbing with the Olympic deities, the jesting and bantering with father Jove.
 

Far more powerful is Aristophanes, the greatest comic writer of all ages. In his "Clouds" Aristophanes represents Strepsiades, burdened by debts, coming to Socrates' Reflectory, or thinking shop, to be instructed in the not-paying-your-creditors argument.

Strep. Teach me, and I will swear by the gods to pay you your fees.

Socrates. What gods? Gods don't pass current here.

Socrates tells Strepsiades that Zeus is out of date, and that the only deites worshiped are the Clouds, an ironical allusion to the cloudy speculations of philosophy. Socrates is represented hanging in a basket between earth and heaven invoking his deities-the Clouds. The Clouds come and greet the philosopher thus:

Be welcome, high priest of all trumpery trifles, you veteran hunter of words clever and subtle!

Explain the request you desire us to grant you, to no one we hearken as well as to you.
So great is your wisdom and so solemn your glances as we watch your proud strutting along in the streets.

Soc. You won't believe in any gods besides ours-Clouds, Chaos and Tongue?

Strep. I won't even speak to the rest, if I should meet them.

Clouds. Tell us plainly what you want.

Strep. I want to be the cleverest speaker in Greece.

Clouds. So you shall; no man shall carry more resolutions to the assembly.

Strep. I don't care about resolutions in the assembly; I want to slip through my creditor's hands.

When the old man Strepsiades finds the Socratic sophistry too difficult to learn his son Pheidipedes goes to the Socratic "Reflectory." When Pheidipedes comes home he attacks the old paternal rule and tells his father:

It was man that made the law and why should not I make a new law that the sons beat their fathers. The cock and other animals punish their fathers, and there is no difference between them and us, except that they do not prepare resolutions and decrees in the assembly.


        In this way does Aristophanes rail and laugh at the new ideas of the Sophists and the Socratic reforms of individual inquiry, criticism, and analysis. At the same time he lashes with his sharp raillery and mordant ridicule the Athenian assembly for its love of oratory and the introduction of ever new resolutions and bills. Aristophanes ridicules the new ways of education and the extreme, democratic changes incident to the political life of the Athenian commonwealth. He takes his stand on the old modes of life, on the old forms of education and training, on the old religious beliefs and customs that have produced the heroes of Marathon.

        In ridiculing Athenian politics Aristophanes gives directions to the Sausage-seller how to defeat Cleon, the Athenian political leader, and to manage the people:

The easiest thing in the world. Do just as you have been doing. Mangle and mash everything. Flavor and spice to suit the people's taste. You have got every qualification for a demagogue. You have a vile voice, you have a low disposition and unscrupulous character.


        The contest that follows may well remind one of the American political campaign between Roosevelt and Taft for the highest office in the land.

Cleon. I'll outbawl and undo you.

Sausage-Seller. I'll out-scream and out-squall you. Never do I blush and blink.

Cleon. When I'm dealing, I can swear to things that are not. And, though people heard and saw, I care not.

        Compare with the new "National Hymn" made in mockery of Roosevelt and his followers, the so-called Bull Moose Progressive Party:

No matter though he said,
He never could be led
To run again;
We know now it was a bluff,
Or some such other stuff
As guff or puff or fluff
In his brain.


        Here is the prayer with which the Sausage-seller opens his campaign in the Senate:
 

Hear me, O powers of Fraud and Boobydom, and ye spirits of the market and the street, the places where I was bred, and thou, great Impudence, hear me, and help, giving me courage, and a ready tongue and a shameless voice.


        Aristophanes ridicules the Athenian politics in the same way as the modern cartoonist ridicules the presidential campaign by representing the two presidential candidates, riding to Chicago on the Monopoly Limited with the Trust as their guardian, calling each other names and almost coming to blows. As in the modern political campaign, the Sausage-seller accuses Cleon:
 

Thanks to the dust you kick up, Demos can see nothing of what is going on.

Cleon. O my dear Demos, don't believe him. You have never had a better friend or a more watchful one. Haven't I kept you up? Haven't I watched night and day and discovered schemes, treasons, plots and conspiracies? (Corresponding to the scheming of the modern trust.)

Sausage-Seller. Oh yes, we all know what you mean by your treason and plots. You are just like the fellows that fish in troubled waters.


        Both Cleon and the Sausage-seller declare their intense love and affection for Demos, their supposed master:

Cleon. If I should advise you
Against what is best for your comfort and interest,
May I suffer and perish.

Sausage-Seller. O Demos,
No man can more adore you
With so tender a care.


        Who cannot read in the eternal ridicule on political campaigning carried on in the democratic countries where Demos is the master? Even a superficial glance at the quotations from Aristophanes discloses the fact that the characters, institutions, and new ideas ridiculed are regarded as defective, as wanting in the common social and moral principles of every day life. The characters represented are found to be ludicrous, because we are made to realize the inferiority of the persons, institutions, and ideas with regard to the accepted standards of life. Defects where merits should be expected, lack of adjustment where more perfect adaptation is looked for, inferiority to the ordinary level of life where superiority should be expected, all such relations constitute the main conditions under which objects, physical and ideal, are made ridiculous in the eyes of the external observer. This statement in its turn can be further reduced to the more general principle of lack of energy when an abundance of it is expected, of difficulties, awkwardness, and clumsiness where there should be ease, grace, and manifestations of energy in response to the external and internal stimuli and situations.

 

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