World War, 1914-1918; World War, 1914-1918 -- Great Britain
To the end of the war those aviators of ours searched the air for their
adventures, fought often against overwhelming numbers, killed the German
champions in single combat or in tourneys in the sky, and let down tons
of high explosives which caused great death and widespread destruction;
and in this work they died like flies, and one boy's life--one of those
laughing, fatalistic, intensely living boys--was of no more account in
the general sum of slaughter than a summer midge, except as one little
unit in the Armies of the Air.
XIII
I am not strong enough in the science of psychology to understand the
origin of laughter and to get into touch with the mainsprings of gaiety.
The sharp contrast between normal ethics and an abnormality of action
provides a grotesque point of view arousing ironical mirth. It is
probable also that surroundings of enormous tragedy stimulate the sense
of humor of the individual, so that any small, ridiculous thing assumes
the proportion of monstrous absurdity. It is also likely--certain, I
think--that laughter is an escape from terror, a liberation of the soul
by mental explosion, from the prison walls of despair and brooding.
In the Decameron of Boccaccio a group of men and women encompassed by
plague retired into seclusion to tell one another mirthful immoralities
which stirred their laughter. They laughed while the plague destroyed
society around them and when they knew that its foul germs were on
the prowl for their own bodies... So it was in this war, where in many
strange places and in many dreadful days there was great laughter. I
think sometimes of a night I spent with the medical officers of a tent
hospital in the fields of the Somme during those battles. With me as a
guest went a modern Falstaff, a “ton of flesh,” who “sweats to death and
lards the lean earth as he walks along.”
He was a man of many anecdotes, drawn from the sinks and stews of life,
yet with a sense of beauty lurking under his coarseness, and a voice of
fine, sonorous tone, which he managed with art and a melting grace.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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