A CHAT WITH A GREAT HUMORIST.

Evening Star, Issue 9842, 2 November 1895, Page 4

A CHAT WITH A GREAT HUMORIST.

The following are the material parts of an interview which a representative of the ‘Sydney Morning Herald’ had with Mark Twain (Mr Clemens) on his arrival in Australia

What is humor ?—That is almost as difficult to answer as the more important question put by Pilate. It is easy enough often to say what it is not; but an exact scientific definition—it seems like trying to transfix a sunbeam. I suppose no man ever knew why he had humor, and where he got it from, exactly what constituted a humorist idea, or in what way it first appealed to him. Life has been finely defined as “a tragedy to those who feel—a comedy to those who think.” That is a very fine definition of the main qualities that go to make the humorist. I maintain that a man can never be a humorist, in thought or in deed, until he can feel the springsof pathos. Indeed, thereyou have a basis of something material to go upon in trying to comprehend what this impalpable thing of true humor is. Trust me, he was never yet properly funny who was not capable at times of being very serious. And more: the two are as often as not simultaneous. Whilst a man secs what we call the humorous side he must have ever present the obverse; those who laugh best and oftoncst know that background. You don’t believe there is such a being who simply laughs, as the poet sings, because he must? The true and proper laughter, “the sudden glory of laughter,” as Addison has it, doesn’t come in that causeless way; Look at all the humorists and their creations, their subtle contrasts, and their exquisite breaks of laughter —can’t you see behind it all the depth and the purpose of it ? Look at the poor fool in ‘ Lear ’; look at Lamb, getting the quaintest, moat spiritmoving effects, with the tears just trembling on the verge of every jest; look at Thackeray and Dickens, and all the bright host who have gained niches in the gallery of the immortals. They have one thing always in their mind, no matter what parts they make their puppets play. Behind the broadest grins, the most exquisitely ludicrous situations, they know there is the grinning skull, and that all roads lead along the dusty road to death. Ah, don’t think there is such a thing as a mere “ corner man ” in literature any more than there is in any other department of life. I say that the clown rolling in the sawdust at a circus to the shrieks of the children knows and feels the truth that I have tried to explain. Don't you remember what Garrick said to a friend: “You may fool the town in tragedy, but they won’t stand any nonsense in comedy.” It is so true! Any pretender can cast up the whites of his eyes to the heavens and roll out his mock heroics, but the comedian must have the genuine ring in him. Otherwise he couldn’t be a comedian. With modern writers of fiction I confess I have no very extensive acquaintance.

I read little but the heaviest sort of literature—history, biography, travels. I have always had a fear that I should get into someone clse’s style if I dabbled among the modern writers too much, and I don’t want to do that. As I have never studied any of the great models, I can outrage them all with impunity. Among those I have read, though, let me say that Gilbert seems to me a perfectly delightful and exquisite humorist. How perfectly charming is the lambent play of his fancy! and when I road his operas I am struck dumb with astonishment. It seems to me marvellous that a man should have this gift of saying not only the wittiest of things, but of sayingthem in verse ! I don’t think there are many better examples, in their way, of my philosophisings about humor up above than Gilbert’s Jack Point. There you have the humor mingling and floating in a sea of pathos. Lewis Carroll always appealed to me as a true and subtle humorist; but I must fain confess that with the years I have lost much of my youthful admiration for Dickens. In saying so it seems'a little as if one were wilfully heretic; but the truth must prevail. I don’t know where it is exactly, but I cannot laugh and cry with him as I was wont. I seem to see all the machinery of the business too clearly;

iWeSort ls geniu's’ bf hiiifior iiot; WIW and a host more! But(T oan,’t fp ft,no%soqie-. how,; And time’,. It .seemfl to me, is the tmejiest Sf humorV ift .must be Yes) .1 ave often discussedl &nn hiteii heard discussed, the dMhotibh between wit ani humor. I can’t say that I have ever heard a satisfactory definition. It is more to be felt than realised and explained. Probably there is lan imperceptible touch of something permanent that one feels instinctively to adhere to true humor, whereas wit may be the mere conversational shooting uq of “smartness”—a bright feather, to be blown into space the second after inis launched. ladmit it is always difficult q> reconcile, any definition of the two kindred qualitigs) but by, general; ,if tacit, consent WU gepms to ,)o0 equntddft very jidof relation,to Hjlnior. I siljipqae that Pope was one of tho wittiest writers who ever put pen to paper; and yet most of us agree that he was “artificial.” NowJ humor is never artificial. , >,, Mr Clemens, it has been said man? than pn°e that you are the laziest man in the world.—l think that is a mistaken notion. I don’t think there ever was a lazy man in tbit world. Every man has some sort of gift, and he prizes that gift beyond all others. He may be a prqfessicmal billiard-player; or a Paderewski, or a poet—l don't Care what it is. But whatever it is, he takes a native delight in exploiting that gift, and you will find it difficult to beguile him away from it. Well, there aro thousands of other interests occupying other men, but those interests don’t appeal to the special tastes of the billiard champion or Paderewski. They aro set down, therefore, as too lazy to do that or do this—to do, in short, what they have no taste or inclination to do. In that, sense, then, lam phenomenally laSy. But when it Comes,to Writing A book—l am not lazy then. My family find it difficult to dig me out «f my chair. Oh, yes, I have met many interesting men in my wanderings round the world. 'Not long ago I dined with Stanley in London. There were about eighty guests, and not ,one of them, I think, was not distinguished in some way. Oh, ■what a marvellous place London is ! I think the most interesting personality I ever encountered was General Grant. How and where he was so much larger than other men I had over met I cannot describe. It was the same sort of feeling, 1 suppose, that made my friend, Thomas Starr King, whilst listening to a celebrated preacher, turn to me and exclaim: “ Whereabouts in that figure does that imperial power reside?” You had that feeling with Grant exactly. Of ■modem light literature I don’t read much, as I have said; but going back to that topic a moment I should like to say how I revel in Kipling. A strange coincidence I found out after 1 first read his books was that he had come some 275 miles one day for the express purpose of seeing me. I was living at Klma, and one day Kipling came down from New York and handed in his card. He had written on it “ From Allabhad,” in his laconic way. I felt battered at the time that hevShould have borne so fat blit of liifi wtO Visit, ike, Arid doubly so when I found out afterwards who he iVas. And what is y our idea of American politics ? —Well, I have been out of the ruii of thein fof sohio years. Of course, we’ve found out that an omnipotent Democracy is not an unmitigated blessing; but America is not governed by the people, as you seem to think, She only seems to be—it is her politicians who do the governing. Onco upon a time, about fourteen years ago, we had a strong Third Party, and that party attracted some of the best men in tho country to it. The Mugwumps, as they were called, went down in a subsequent presidential election before the folly of the people, and it hasn’t reappeared. But it’s badly wanted enough. It seems to me that you’ve got right at the basis of things if you have that strong Third Party with the best men in it. It doesn’t matter what their views are, so long as they are the best men. And now, having thoroughly established my reputation for humor by talking of politics seriously, it’s time I stopped.