LAUGHTER

New Zealand Herald, Volume LXIX, Issue 21248, 30 July 1932, Page 1 (Supplement)

LAUGHTER

A GIFT OF THE GODS

BY HONALU BUCHANAN

It, is generally agrfecl, I think, that in the possession of the capacity for laughter, man is unique in the animal kingdom. It has been suggested, I believe, that our good friend tho dog also has a measure of this heaven-born gift, and 1 should like to think it is so. But the matter is probably beyond any satisfactory demonstration, and for the present we humans may fairly regard the risiblo faculty as ono of the endowments that mark our superiority to the brute creation. If, however, it is ever definitely established that dogs do laugh, I hope it will bo possible to show also that they know how to laugh, and when. It is quite evident that many of us do not. If laughter is to be, as Carlylo suggests it may, " the cipher key wherewith we decipher the whole man," it must bo tho real thing, that spontaneous expression of a sincere and living emotion that I think ho had in mind when he said: "No man who has once heartily and wholly laughed can bo altogether irreclaimably bad." This is how he describes the incident that prompted his observation: " Gradually a light dawned in our Professor's eyes and face, a beaming, mantling; loveliest light. Through these murky features a radiant, ever-young Apollo looked; he burst forth like the neighing of all Tattersall's—tpars streaming down his cheeks, pipe held aloft, foot clutched into the air—loud, long-continuing, uncontrollable, a laugh not of the face and diaphragm only, but of tho wholo man from head to heel." The Quality of Mirth A good laugh, truly; and the description, even if it be a little overdone, is illuminating. For the point is that, strictly speaking, laughter is an involuntary expression of mirth or amusement, just as a sneeze is an involuntary reaction to a certain nasal condition. If it lacks this spontaneity it is a formal and artificial thing, and is not, in the real sense, laughter at all. Mirth, like mercy, is a quality that must not be strained if we are to have it at its best. It must drop—whether as the gentle rain or as the thunder shower matters not—simply because it is the natural outflow of an emotion too full to be withheld. The mechanical tittering that is not really " a vent ot sudden joy " is like the shoulder-high hand-shake that knows little of real friendliness. It is apt to leave us cold, and perhaps a trifle ruffled. But perhaps, in a world that knows little enough of merriment, it would be churlish to complain that so much of our laughter is artificial, and stands more closely related to mannerism than to mirth. It may be that the simulation of gladness and amusement, like the observance of the form of godliness, does sometimes justify itself, and. serve a useful purpose. There may be a good deal of glitter where there is not much gold, and the scintillation is perhaps pleasing enough where one is not looking for real value. After all, the formal or studied laugh may be,, as some one has put it, the chorus of "the conversation. It punctuates and gives point to our remarks, even if they have no claim to be humorous, and it often provides the means of a graceful exit when the conversation is finished or we think it ought to be. And so, on the whole, I would say regarding this ready-made-and-always-on-hand variety of laughter, let it pass; it may have its uses. The Crackling of Thorns But for the laughter of the inane and the uncouth I can find no excuse. They deserve no mercy. When The Preacher of old said, " As the crackling of thorns under a pot, so is the laughter of fools," he uttered a profound truth. Heaven only knows in what scathing figure of speech he would express himself if he lived today, and had somo experience of the average picture-theatre audience. There, surelv, we have the laughter of fools in all its blatant hideousness. Nothing escapes it. Whether it be pathos or tragedy or aught else matters little. One serves as well as another to provoke their perverted sense of the ludicrous, and in their senseless, soulless, silly fashion they laugh. Ye gods! how they laugh! But does anybody know why ? i have wondered, sometimes, in an indulgent moment, whether their inane cackle is a mask to hide some real and worthy emotion they are unwilling to display. I fear the thought is all too generous, and that tho explanation is to be found merely in a complete lack of the fitness of things, a lamentable species of ignorance that is incapable of ordinary discrimination. They little know, or perhaps they do not greatly care, how completely they spoil the enjoyment of those, happily the majority, who realiso that " to everything there is a season, and a time for every purpose—a time to laugh and a time to mouru " —or at least to observe an intelligent and respectful silence. When I speak of the laughter of the uncouth I am thinking of the wild guffaws we sometimes hear from those whose main purpose, it would appear, is to attract attention to themselves. It, is a favourite mode of expression with a certain class of young bloods who parade our streets and loiter at tho corners, and it js commonly accompanied by a mild exhibition of horseplay, so that both by vision and hearing we may be made aware of their existence. If such as these are not '' fit for treasons, stratagems and spoils," I can imagine they would at least be capable, should opportunity offer, of indulgence in the gentle pastime of window-smashing. The Humour of Things Here, I think we have the real killjoys, the people who misuse the priceless gift of laughter. It is a pity, indeed, that tho good old word should be used to describe the manifestation of such a diversity of unworthy qualities as vulgarity, affectation and scorn, and at tho same time to denote that joyous emanation of a spirit of wholesome mirth to which alone, I feel, it rightly belongs. What fellowship have the coarse, tho inane, and the derisive with that, infectious gladness of heart that sees unfailingly tho inherent humour of things, and laughs because it must? To realise how precious a gift laughter is one has only to try to visualise the dreary blank the world would bo without it. , Deprive a man of his sense of the ludicrous and he may remain a cultured product of animal evolution, and perhaps a good deal more, but he will lack something very much akin to spiritual endowment, a quality without which lie can never know, in all its breadth and fulness, the joy of living. The gladness of recollection, the charm of anticipation, the strength and sweetness and savour of human relationships would be sadly impaired were it not for the fact that, for those who have eyes to see and ears to hear, life holds so much that makes for honest laughter. Let us laugh, then. We may not, especially in these lean days, achieve all that is implied in Ben Jonson's complementary injunction " and be fat, sir," as easily as he would have us hope, but wo may attain to a healthy rotundity of soul that will stand us in better stead than weight or waist measurement. And if our laughter is sincere and kindly and out of a full and merry heart, it may be that, the world will laugh with us.