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A Thought for Monday Morning — Peter Robinson
Last Monday morning I quoted Auberon Waugh, for which Barbara Kidder either chid me or chode me—despite our disputations on this site, I remain uncertain of the past tense of “chide”—for selecting an Englishman who was “cruel,” “outrageous,” and “bizarre,” asking me to choose an Englishman next time of more “honorable characteristics.”
Barbara, I think, was a little too hard on Auberon Waugh, who, by contrast with his father, Evelyn Waugh, was beloved of his friends and children, which surely says something basic about his character. But enough Waughs. Bowing to Barbara, I begin this week with a quotation from G. K. Chesterton, than whom no Englishman ever has or ever could prove more honorable.
Here is Chesterton on the high solemnity, as it were, of humor, in a passage from his book Orthodoxy that I can still tell you exactly where and when I first read it: in a Greyhound bus terminal in Albany, New York, while waiting for the bus to Binghamton during the bicentennial summer of 1976:
Published in GeneralSeriousness is not a virtue. It would be a heresy, but a…sensible heresy, to say that seriousness is a vice. It is really a natural trend or lapse into taking one’s self gravely, because it is the easiest thing to do. It is much easier to write a good Times leading article than a good joke in Punch. For solemnity flows out of men naturally; but laughter is a leap. It is easy to be heavy: hard to be light. Satan fell by the force of gravity.
You remember all of your bus terminal visits? Wow, that’s impressive.
“Chided.”
So, Peter, are you going against the call for gravitas?
“chided”.It’s a weak verb. “Maria and Aaron wid Moises ciddon for his wife”- Anglo-Saxon Pentateuch.
I would consider it a compliment to be called a serious person. That doesn’t mean you need to be morbid or gloomy about it. There are plenty of serious people who have a great sense of humor. To me seriousness is defined by what you think about as opposed to your personality.
You mean people like Reagan and Coolidge?
I know humorless people, and they never appear happy. Seriousness is sometimes required in a situation, but it has little to recommend as a lifestyle. Carter was a serious president, as is obama, although he tries to mask it with telepromptered jokes.
I think it’s a challenge to use humor effectively in a political context, because let’s face it, politics are ridiculous and even silly sometimes, but deadly serious are the consequences. Jonah Goldberg does that very effectively and so does Troy Senik.
One simply can’t settle for “chided” when there may be an archaic irregular conjugation that once lit about in the skulls of Shakespeare and Milton and Chaucer. Ms. Grundy, exasperated, has ridden thousands of quaint irregulars out on the rails to satisfy her own leaden sense order, the least we can do is honor their memory.
Mr. Robinson:
It appears that I bring out the less magnanimous side of your personality.
First, my complaint about your choice of the Auberon Waugh quote was that, throughout his life, he had made an art form of publicly mocking and ridiculing his friends, family (particularly his father) and foes, and that this choice came within a week of your highlighting another English writer, Christopher Hitchins, whose fame was earned by his frequent use of a scathing tongue and cryptic pen.
Both of the men you chose to showcase were vociferously anti-religion and ‘personal vendetta’ was a characteristic of their journalism.
Your response was to dismiss my criticism. I then proposed that you write a post, asking for suggestions from the Ricochet membership for some of their favorite British writers.
Today, you have given us another of your picks, a fine specimen in G.K. Chesterton, but the quote you have selected does nothing more than support the notion that one will ‘get further with sugar than vinegar’.
My opinion remains the same; humor at another’s expense is cheap and tedious and you could have done better in your choice.
Lost in this thread is the question of why would a man go to Binghampton instead of say Bridgehampton?
Edit: Looks like a visit from Dartmouth to back home.
Does the #4 post by Hartmann von Aue knock that on the head?
“The Stoics, ancient and modern, were proud of concealing their tears. He never concealed His tears; He showed them plainly on His open face at any daily sight, such as the far sight of His native city. Yet He concealed something. Solemn supermen and imperial diplomatists are proud of restraining their anger. He never restrained His anger. He flung furniture down the front steps of the Temple, and asked men how they expected to escape the damnation of Hell. Yet He restrained something. I say it with reverence; there was in that shattering personality a thread that must be called shyness. There was something that He hid from all men when He went up a mountain to pray. There was something that He covered constantly by abrupt silence or impetuous isolation. There was some one thing that was too great for God to show us when He walked upon our earth; and I have sometimes fancied that it was His mirth.”
Good humor is a sign of maturity. We are imperfect creatures. We will never accomplish all that we might, receive all we desire or behave always as we would wish. We can accept these facts with either good humor or frustration and anger. Comparison to the reactions of two and three year olds should be sufficient to demonstrate which is the more mature response.
I agree with Ms. Kidder that good humor is always properly at one’s own expense. But might she show a little better humor with regard to Mr. Robinson’s contrite response? It might have helped her better appreciate the import of Chesterton’s comments.
Chesterton lived the way he wrote. Though he and his wife never had children, they loved them. On a visit to Rome, they met a family at a hotel, and invited the three children (but not their parents) to tea. Ian Ker, Chesterton’s great biographer records the rest:
GKC was a large man, but was not weighed down by solemnity.
…which is why he must have loved young children, because they are without guile.
It is much easier to write a good Times leading article than a good joke in Punch.
A low bar, indeed, given the poor relationship between Punch and jokes.
As to the lowness of seriousness, solemnity flows out of men naturally; but laughter is a leap. Here I disagree with Chesterton; he’s never met (Mr Riehl notwithstanding) Eric Holder or Barack Obama, neither of whom can possibly be serious, but rather are engaged in lengthy parodies of…something. And they do it so facilely.
Wrt OP, seriousness and humor each need the other, including in the same person, else each loses its vitality and its utility.
And go right ahead on quoting Englishmen–just not that d*mned monarchist, Edmund Burke.
Eric Hines
Certainly, we agree that not all humor is the same.
Have you ever been witness to a marital tiff, where one spouse lobs a ‘funny’ zinger at the other?
It is seldom a ‘thing of beauty’ or light-hearted humor.
If Satan had ever said one thing that was true, or good, it would be worth quoting him.
One should never attack another for celebrating the good and true, even the good and true things uttered by those who also uttered evil things or untrue things.
My favorite American couple that encompass your “seriousness and humor” equation being, ‘Archie & Edith’!
“The devil can quote Scripture to his own use…” Shakespeare, The Merchant of Venice
To your second point, a great deal has been said and written on this subject and I do not believe that your assertion is a matter of ‘settled law’.
Being always serious, when defined as unable to take a joke or to step back and see the funny side of things, is indeed a failing.
Being foolishly silly with a cartoonish outlook on life, unable to take anything seriously and making fun even of the deadly important and the holy and beautiful, is also a failing (and I’ve known people who tend in that direction).
There’s a balance to be struck. Being serious-minded (sober-minded, in the Biblical phrase) means that one sees things in their true proportions, that one’s priorities are straight, that one recognizes that life is not a joke — but that most things in life have their funny side.
Good points. This is another place where Aristotle’s golden mean seems to apply. Solemnity (especially about ourselves) can be both grim and off-putting, but there are times when solemnity is exactly right (say, for example, at a funeral). A bit of frivolity is a wonderful thing, but the person who can never be serious is, at least for me, someone I don’t want to spend a lot of time with.
The particular style of humor over which I was at odds with Mr. Robinson (after his earlier post, quoting Auberon Waugh) was that use of humor by men whose sole purpose is the humilation and annihilation of the person or object of their humor.
I realise that none of the comments below this post are lauding this type of humor.
Because Mr. Robinson has earned a position of considerable credibility and influence throughout his lifetime, I felt it warranted to call his attention to what I believed was humor, undeserving of his praise.
“Lighten up, Francis.” – Sgt. Hulka
And I consider myself a humble master of self deprecation.
You are right, Sir, for our consumption, but I bet that YOU use it judiciously!