The Art of Writing & Speaking the English Language by Sherwin Cody (ereader for comics .TXT) 📕

We must go at our work gently and good-naturedly, and then there will be no straining or morbidness or repulsiveness of manner. But all this finds its consummation in what is called humor.

Humor is a thing that can be cultivated, even learned; and it is one of the most important things in the whole art of writing.

We will not attempt to say just what humor is. The effort could bring no results of value. Suffice it to say that there is implanted in most of us a sense of the ridiculous—of the incongruous. If a thing is a little too big or a little too small for the place it is intended to fill, for some occult reason we regard it as funny. The difference of a hair seems to tickle us, whereas a great difference does not produce that kind of effect at all.

We may secure humor by introducing into our writing the slightest possible exaggeration which will result in the slightest possible incongruity. Of course this presupposes that we understand the facts in a most thorough and delicate way. Our language is not precisely representative of things as they are, but it proves better than any other language that we know just what the truth is.

Humor is the touchstone by which we ought to try ourselves and our work.

It will prevent our getting very far away from what is normal and natural.

So much for its effect on ourselves. To our readers it proves that we are good-natured, honest, and determined to be agreeable. Besides, it makes an appeal to them on their weakest side. Few people can resist a joke. There is never any occasion for them to cultivate resistance. So there is no more certain way by which we can get quickly and inevitably into their confidence and fellowship. When once we are on good terms with them they will listen to us while we say anything we may have to say. Of course we shall often have many serious things to say; but humor will open the way for us to say them better than any other agency.

It is to be noted that humor is slighter and more delicate than any other form of wit, and that it is used by serious and accomplished writers. It is the element of success in nearly all essay-writing, especially in letters; and the business man will find it his most powerful weapon in advertising. Its value is to be seen by uses so various.

The student is invited to study three examples of humor. The first is Addison's “Advice in Love.” It is obvious that this subject could not very well be treated in any other way. It is too delicate for anything but delicate humor, for humor can handle subjects which would be impossible for any other kind of language. Besides, the sentiment would be likely to nauseate us by its excess or its morbidity, except for the healthy salt of humor. Humor makes this essay instructive and interesting.

Next we present two letters from Stevenson. Here we see that humor makes commonplace things interesting. How deadly dull would be the details Stevenson gives in these letters but for the enlivenment of humor! By what other method could anything worth reading have been gotten out of the facts?

The selection from Charles Lamb is an illustration of how humor may save the utterly absurd from being unreadable. Lamb had absolutely nothing to say when he sat down to write this letter; and yet he contrived to be amusing, if not actually interesting.

The master of humor can draw upon the riches of his own mind, and thereby embellish and enliven any subject he may desire to write upon.

Of these three selections, the easiest to imitate is Addison. First, we should note the old-fashioned phrasing and choice of words, and perhaps translate Addison into simple, idiomatic, modern English, altering as little as possible. We note that the letter offered by Addison is purposely filled with all the faults of rhetoric which we never find in his own writing. Addison's humorous imitation of these faults gives us twice as good a lesson as any possible example of real faults made by some writer unconsciously.

In Stevenson's letters we see the value of what has been called “the magic word.” Nearly the whole of his humor consists in selecting a word which suggests ten times as much as it expresses on its face. There is a whole world of fun in this suggestion. Sometimes it is merely commonplace punning, as when he speaks of the “menial” of “high Dutch extraction” as yet “only partially extracted;” and again it is the delicate insinuation contained in spelling “Parc” with a c, for that one letter gives us an entire foreign atmosphere, and the disproportion between the smallness of the letter and the extent of the suggestiveness touches our sense of the ridiculous.

The form of study of these passages may be slightly altered. Instead of making notes and rewriting exactly as the original authors wrote, we should keep the original open before us and try to produce something slightly different in the same vein. We may suppose the letter on love written by a man instead of by a woman. Of course its character will be quite different, though exactly the same characteristics will be illustrated. This change will require an alteration in almost every sentence of the essay. Our effort should be to see how little change in the wording will be required by this one change in subject; though of course we should always modernize the phrasing. In the case of Stevenson, we may suppose that we are writing a similar letter to friends, but from some other city than San Francisco. We may imitate Lamb by describing our feelings when afflicted by some other ailment than a cold.

By Joseph Addison.

It is an old observation, which has been made of politicians who would rather ingratiate, themselves with their sovereign, than promote his real service, that they accommodate their counsels to his inclinations, and advise him to such actions only as his heart is naturally set upon. The privy-counsellor of one in love must observe the same conduct, unless he would forfeit the friendship of the person who desires his advice. I have known several odd cases of this nature. Hipparchus was going to marry a common woman, but being resolved to do nothing without the advice of his friend Philander, he consulted him upon the occasion. Philander told him his mind freely, and represented his mistress to him in such strong colors, that the next morning he received a challenge for his pains, and before twelve o'clock was run through the body by the man who had asked his advice. Celia was more prudent on the like occasion; she desired Leonilla to give her opinion freely upon a young fellow who made his addresses to her. Leonilla, to oblige her, told her with great frankness, that she looked upon him as one of the most worthless— Celia, foreseeing what a character she was to expect, begged her not to go on, for that she had been privately married to him above a fortnight.

The truth of it is a woman seldom asks advice before she has bought her wedding clothes. When she has made her own choice, for form's sake she sends a congé d'élire to her friends.

If we look into the secret springs and motives that set people at work on these occasions, and put them upon asking advice, which they never intend to take; I look upon it to be none of the least, that they are incapable of keeping a secret which is so very pleasing to them. A girl longs to tell her confidant that she hopes to be married in a little time, and, in order to talk of the pretty fellow that dwells so much in her thoughts, asks her gravely, what she would advise her to in a case of so much difficulty. Why else should Melissa, who had not a thousand pounds in the world, go into every quarter of the town to ask her acquaintance whether they would advise her to take Tom Townly, that made his addresses to her with an estate of five thousand a year? 'Tis very pleasant on this occasion to hear the lady propose her doubts, and to see the pains she is at to get over them.

I must not here omit a practice that is in use among the vainer part of our own sex, who will often ask a friend's advice, in relation to a fortune whom they are never likely to come at. Will Honeycomb, who is now on the verge of threescore, took me aside not long since, and ask me in his most serious look, whether I would advise him to marry my Lady Betty Single, who, by the way, is one of the greatest fortunes about town. I stared him full in the face upon so strange a question; upon which he immediately gave me an inventory of her jewels and estate, adding, that he was resolved to do nothing in a matter of such consequence without my approbation. Finding he would have an answer, I told him, if he could get the lady's consent, he had mine. This is about the tenth match which, to my knowledge, Will has consulted his friends upon, without ever opening his mind to the party herself.

I have been engaged in this subject by the following letter, which comes to me from some notable young female scribe, who, by the contents of it, seems to have carried matters so far that she is ripe for asking advice; but as I would not lose her good-will, nor forfeit the reputation which I have with her for wisdom, I shall only communicate the letter to the public, without returning any answer to it.

“Mr. Spectator, Now, sir, the thing is this: Mr. Shapely is the prettiest gentleman about town. He is very tall, but not too tall neither. He dances like an angel. His mouth is made I do not know how, but it is the prettiest that I ever saw in my life. He is always laughing, for he has an infinite deal of wit. If you did but see how he rolls his stockings! He has a thousand pretty fancies, and I am sure, if you saw him, you would like him, he is a very good scholar, and can talk Latin as fast as English. I wish you could but see him dance. Now you must understand poor Mr. Shapely has no estate; but how can he help that, you know? And yet my friends are so unreasonable as to be always teasing me about him, because he has no estate: but I am sure he has that that is better than an estate; for he is a good-natured, ingenious, modest, civil, tall, well-bred, handsome man, and I am obliged to him for his civilities ever since I saw him. I forgot to tell you that he has black eyes, and looks upon me now and then as if he had tears in them. And yet my friends are so unreasonable, that they would have me be uncivil to him. I have a good portion which they cannot hinder me of, and I shall be fourteen on the 29th day of August next, and am therefore willing to settle in the world as soon as I can, and so is Mr. Shapely. But everybody I advise with here is poor Mr. Shapely's enemy. I desire, therefore, you will give me your advice, for I know you are a wise man: and if you advise me well, I am resolved to follow it. I heartily wish you could see him dance, and am, “Sir, your most humble servant.