the life of irony.pdf

8/14/2019 The Life of Irony.pdf

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THE LIFE OF IRONY

BY RANDOLPH S. BOURNE

I COULD ne ve r, un til re ce ntly , d ive stmyself of the haunting feeling that being ironical had something to do withthe entering of the iron into one's soul.I tho ugh t I knew wh at irony was, an d Iadm ired i t imm ensely. I could not believe that there was something metall ic

an d bit te r abo ut i t . Ye t this sinisterconnotation of a clanging, raspingmeanness of spirit, which I am sure ithas st i l l in many people 's minds, clungabout i t , unt i l one happy day my dictionary told me that the iron had neverentered in to the soul at all , bu t the soulinto the iron (St. Jerome had read thepsalm wrong) , and that i rony wasGreek, with all the free, happy play ofthe Gre ek. spiri t ab ou t i t , let t ing infresh air and l ight into others ' minds

an d our own. It was to the Greek anincomparable method of intercourse,the rub of mind against mind by thesimple use of simulated ignorance, andthe adopt ion, wi thou t com mit t ing one 'sself of ano the r 's point of view. N otuntil I read the Socrates of Plato did Ifully ap pre ciate t h at this irony , thispleasant challenging of the world, thisinsistent judging of experience, thissense of vivid contrasts and incongruities, of comic juxtapositions, of flaring

bril l iancies, and no less heartbreakingimpossibilities, of all the little parts ofone's world being constantly set offagainst each other, and made intell igible only by being translated into anddefined in each o the r 's terms , th atthis was a life, and a life of beauty,

that one might suddenly discover one'sself living it all un aw are s. An d if onecould judg e one 's own feeble reflection,it was a life that had no room for ironwithin its soul.

We should speak not of the Socraticme thod , bu t of the Socratic l ife. Fo rirony is a life rather tha n a metho d. Alife cannot be taken off and put on

again at will ; a me thod ca n. To besure, some people talk of life exactly asif i t were some portable commodity, orsome exchangeable garm ent . We mustlive, they cry, as if they were aboutto begin. And perha ps they are. Onlysome of us would rather die than l ivethat puny life that they can adopt andcover themselves with. Iron y is toorich and precious a thing to be capableof such transmission. Th e ironist isborn and not made. This cri t ical att i

tude toward life, this delicious senseof contras ts th at w e call irony, is not apose or an amusement. I t is somethingth a t colors eve ry idea an d eve ry feelingof the m an w ho is so happ y as to be endowed with it.

Most people will tell you, I suppose,that the religious conviction of salvation is the only permanently satisfyingcoloring of life. In the splendid ironists, however, one sees a sweeter, moreflexible and human principle of life,adequate , wi thout the but t ress of superna tu ra l belief to nourish and fortify the spirit. In t he classic ironist of allt ime, irony shows an inherent nobili ty,a nobili ty that all ages have comparedfavorably with the Christian ideal.Lacking the spur of religious emotion,

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the sweetness of irony may be moredifficult to maintain than the mood ofbehef. But may it not for that veryreason be judged superior, for is it notwri t ten, 'H e tha t endureth unto th eend shal l be saved ' ?

It is not easy to explain the qualityof th at r ichest and m ost satisfyingbac kgr ou nd of life. It lies, I thin k, in avivid and intense feeling of alivenesswhich i t gives. Experience comes tothe ironist in l it t le darts or spu rts, w iththe added sense of contrast . Most men,I am afraid, see each bit of personal experience as a unit , strung more or lessloosely on a string of other mildly related b its. B ut t he m an with th e ironical tem per am ent is forced co nsta ntly

to compare and contrast his experience with what was, or what mightbe, or what ought to be, and i t is theshocks of these comparisons and contra sts th at m ake up his inner l ife. Hethinks he leads a richer life, because hefeels not only the individual bits butthe contrasts besides, in all their various shadings and t int s. To this sense ofimpingement of facts upon life is duea large part of this vividness of irony;and the rest is due to the alertness of

the ironical min d. Th e ironist is alway s crit ically awak e. H e is alwaysjudging, and watching with inexhaustible interest , in order that he mayju dg e. No w irony, in its best sense, is anexquisite sense of proportion, a sort ofspiri tual tact in judging the values andsignificances of experience. This senseof being spiritually alive, which ceaseless criticism of the world we live ingives us, combined with the sense ofpower which free and untrammeledjudging produces in us, is the background of irony. And it should be ameans to the truest goodness.

Socrates made one mis take, knowledge is no t goodn ess. B ut it is a steptoward judging, and good judgment isthe true goodn ess. Fo r i t is on judg

ment impelled by desire that we act.The clearer and cleaner our judgmentsthen, the more definite and correlatedour actions . And the gr eat valu e ofthese judgments of irony is that theyare not artif icial bu t spring natu rallyou t of life. Iro ny , the science of comparative experience, compares thingsno t with an established stan da rd butwith each other, and the values thatslowly emerge from the process, valuesth at emerge from one's own vivid reactions, are constantly revised, corrected, and refined by that same sense ofco nt ras t. T h e ironic life is a life keenlyalert , k eenly sensit ive, reacting prom ptly with feelings of liking or dislike toeach bit of experience, letting none of

it pass without interpretation and assimilatio n, a life full and satisfy ing,indeed a rival of the religious life.

The life of irony has the virtues ofth e religious life w itho ut its defects. Itexpresses the aggressive virtue s w ithou tthe quiescence of resignation . Fo r theironist has the courageous spiri t , thesymp athe t i c hea r t , and the unders tanding mind, and can give them full play,unhampered by the searching int rospection of the religious mind thatoften weakens rather than ennoblesan d fortifies. H e is a t one w ith the rel ig ious man in that he hates ap ath y andstagna t ion, for the}- mean dea th . Bu the is super ior in that he a t tack s a pa thyof intellect and personality as well asap ath y of emotion. He has a greatconviction of the significance of alllife, the lack of which conviction is themost saddening feature of the religioustemp eram ent . Th e re lig ious ma n pretends that every aspect of l ife hasmeaning for him, but in practice heconstantly minimizes the noisier andvivider elements. He is essentially anaristocrat in his interpretation ofvalues, while the ironist is incorrigiblya democrat .

Religion gives a man an intimacy


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T H L I F O F I R O N Y 359

with a few selected and rarified virtuesand moods , while irony makes him afriend of the poor and lowly amongspiritual thing s. W hen the religiousman is healing and helping, it is at theexpense of his spiritual comfort; he

must tear himself away from his companions, and go out grimly and sacri-ficingly into the struggle. The ironist,l iving his days among the humblerthings, feels no such severe call to service. And yet the ironist, since he ha sno citadel of truth to defend, is reallythe more adv entu rous . Life, not fixedin predestined formulas, or measurableby fixed, immutable standards, is fluid,rich, and exc iting. T o the ironist it isboth discovery and creation. His courage seeks out the obscure places ofhuman personal i ty, and his sympathyand unders tanding create new interests and enthusiasm s in the othe r mindsupon which they play. And these newinter ests in turn rea ct upon his own life,discovering unexpected vistas there,and creating new insight into theworld that he l ives in. That democratic, sympathetic outlook upon thefeelings and thoughts and actions ofmen and women is the life of irony.

That life is expressed in the socialintercourse of ourselves with others.The daily fabric of the life of irony iswoven out of our critical communingswith ourselves and the personalities ofour friends, and the people with whomwe come in con tac t. Th e ironist , byadopting another 's point of view andma king it his own, in orde r to car ry lightand air into it, literally puts himself inthe other man's place. Iro ny is thus the

truest sj 'nipath y. It is no cheap wayof ridiculing an oppo nen t b y putti ng onhis clothes and making fun of him.The ironist has no opponent, but onlya friend. And in his irony he is helpingth at friend to reveal himself. T h a t half-seriousness, that solemn treatment ofthe trivial and trivial treatment of the

solemn, which is the pattern of theironist's talk, is but his way of exhibiting the unexpected contrasts andshadings tha t he sees to be requisite tothe keenest understanding of the situation. The ironist borrows and ex

changes and appropriates ideas andgives them a new setting in juxtaposition with othe rs, bu t he never burlesques or caricatures or exaggeratesthem . If an idea is absu rd, the slightestchange of environment will show thatabsurdi ty.

The mere transference of an idea toanother's mouth will bring to light alli ts hidden meaninglessness. I t needsno extraneo us aid. If an idea is hollow,it will show itself cowering against theintellectual background of the ironistlike the puny, shivering thing it is.If a point of view cannot bear beingadopted by another person, if i t is nothardy enough to be transplanted, i t haslittle right to exist at all. Th is worldis no hothouse for ideas and att i tudes.Too many outworn ideas are skulkingin dark retreats, sequestered from thelight; every man has great, sunlessstretches in his soul where base prejudices lurk and flourish. On these thewhite light of irony is needed to play.And it delights the ironist to watchthem shrivel and decay under thatlight.

The little tabooed regions of well-bred people, the ' th ing s we never mention, ' the basic biases and assumptionsthat underlie the l ives and thinkingof every class and profession, our second-h and dogmas and phrases, allthese l ive and th rive because they ha ve

never been transplanted, or heardfrom the l ips of ano ther . Th e dictumthat ' the only requisites for success arehonesty and meri t , ' which we applaudso frantically from the lips of the successful, becomes a ghastly irony in themou th of an unemployed workingm an.Th ere w ould be a frightful m orta li ty of


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36 T H E L I F E O F I R O N Y

points of view could we have a perfectly free exchange such as this . Iro ny isjust th is temporary borrowing andlending. M an y of our cherished idealswould lose half their validity were theypu t bodily into th e mo uths of the less

fortu nate . B ut if irony destroys someideals i t builds up others. I t testsideals by their social validity, by theirgeneral interchangeabili ty among allsorts of people and the world, but if itleaves the foundations of many in ashaky condition, and renders more simply provisional, those that it does leavestanding are imperishably founded inthe common democratic experience ofall men.

To the ironist i t seems that the ironyis not in the speaking, but in the thingsthems elves. H e is a poor ironist whowould consciously distort , or attemptto make another ' s idea appear in anylight except i ts own. Absurdity is anintrinsic quality of so ma ny things th atthey only have to be touched to revealit . The deadliest way to annihilate theunoriginal and the insincere is to let itspeak for itself. Iron y is this lett ingthings speak for themselves and hangthemse lves by their own rope. Only, i trepeats the words after the speaker,and adjusts the rope. It is the comma nding touc h of a compre hending personality that dissolves the seeminglytough husk of the idea.

The ironical method might be compared to the acid th at develops a pho tographic pla te. I t does not distort theimage, but merely brings clearly to thelight all that was implicit in the platebefore. An d if it brings the pictur e to

the light with values reversed, so doesirony revel in a paradox, which is simply a photographic negative of thetruth , t ruth with the values reversed.But turn the negative ever so slightlyso that the light falls upon it, and theperfect picture appears in all i ts truevalues and beauty . I rony, we may

say then, is the photography of thesoul. The picture goes through certainchanges in the ha nds of the ironist ,but wi thout these changes the t rut hwould be simply a b lank, unm eaningsurface. Th e photo grap h is a synonym

for deadly accu racy . Similarly theironist insists always on seeing thingsas they are. H e is a realist, whom thegrim satisfaction of seeing the truthcompensates for any sordidness thatit m ay bring along with i t . Thin gs asthey are , thrown against the background of things as they ought to be, this is th e iron ist's vision. I shouldlike to feel that the vision of the religious m an is not too often things as th eyare , thrown against the background of

things as they ought not to be.The ironist is the only man who

makes any ser ious a t tempt to dis t inguish between fresh and second-handexperience. Our minds are so unfortunately arranged that all sorts of beliefcan be accepted and propagated qui teindependently of any rational or evenexperiential basis at all . N at ur e doesnot seem to care very much whetherour ideas are true or not, so long as weget on thr oug h life safely eno ugh . An dit is surprising on what an enormousamount of error we can get along comfortably. W e can not be wrong onevery point or we should cease to live,but so long as we are empirically rightin our habits, the truth or falsity of ourideas seems to have little effect uponour comfort. We are born into a worldthat is an inexhaustible store of ready-made ideas, stored up in tradition, inbooks, and in every medium of com

municat ion between our minds andothe rs. All we have to do is to acc eptthis predigested nourishment, and askno que stion s. W e could live a wholelife w itho ut ever m akin g a really individual response, without providingourselves, out of our own experience,with any of the ma terial t ha t our mind s


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T H L I F O P I R O N Y 361

work on. M an y of us seem to be jus tthis kind of spiri tual para sites. W emay learn and absorb and grow, up toa certain point. Bu t eventually something captures us: we become incasedin a suit of armor, and invulnerable toour own experience. W e have lost the

faculty of being surp rised . It is this incasing that the ironist fears, and it isthe ironical method that he finds thebest for preventing it . Irony keeps thewaters in motion, so that the ice neverhas a chance to form. Th e cut-a nd-dried life is easy to form because it hasno sense of contrast; everything comesto one on its own terms, vouching foritself and is accepted or rejected on itsown good looks, and not because ofits fitness and place in the schemeof things.

Th is is the courage and this the sympat hy of i rony. Ha ve they not a beautyof their own comparable in excellencewith the paler glow of religious virtue?And the understanding of the ironist ,although aggressive and challenging,has its justificatio n, t oo. Fo r he is madto understand the world, to get to thebottom of other personalit ies. That isthe reason for his constant classifica

tion. The ironist is the most dogmaticof persons. To unde rstan d you hemust grasp you firmly, or he must pinyou down definitely; if he accidentallynails you fast to a dogma that you indignant ly repudiate , you must blamehis enthusiasm and not his method.Do gm atism is rarely popular, and theironist, of course, suffers. I t hurt s people's eyes to see a strong light, and thepleasant mist-land of ideas is muchmore emotionally wa rming th an the

clear, sunny region of transmissiblephrases. How the average personwriggles and squirms under thesepiercing attempts to corner his personal i ty 'Tel l me wh at you me an ' or'W ha t do you sec in i t ? ' are the fatalquestions that the ironist puts, and

who shall censure him if he does display the least trace of malicious delightas he watch es the half-formed bab yideas struggle towa rd the light, orscurry around frantically to find somedecent costume in which they may appear in public?

The judgments of the ironist areoften discounted as being too sweeping. B ut he has a valid defense. La ckof classification is annihilation oftho ugh t. Eve n the newest philosophywill adm it th at classification is a necessary evil . Concepts are indispensable, an d yet each concept falsifies. T heironist must have as large a stock aspossible, but he must have a stock.And even the unjust classification ismarvclously effective. The ironist'sname for his opponent is a challenge tohim . Th e more sweeping it is , the m orestimulus it gives the latter to repel thecharge. He mus t explain just how heis unique an d individual in his at t i tu de .And in this explanation he reveals anddiscovers all that the ironist wishes toknow abo ut him. A handful of epithe ts is thus the am mu nition of th eironist . He mus t call things by wha tseem to him to be their right names.In a sense, the ironist assumes theprisoner to be guilty until he proveshimself innocent; but it is always inorder that justice may be done, andthat he may come to learn the prisoner's soul and all the wondrous thingsthat are contained there .

II

It is this passion for comprehensionthat explains the ironist 's apparently

scandalous propensity to publicity.Nothing seems to him too sacred totouch, nothing too holy for him tobecome wit ty abo ut . There are nodoors locked to him, there is nothingthat can make good any claim of resistance to scru tiny. His free-and-easy


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T H E L I F E O F I R O N Y

manner of including everything withinthe sweep of his vision, is b ut his recognition, however, of the fact that nothing is really so serious as we think itis , and nothing qui te so pet ty . Th eironist will descend in a moment froma discussion of religion to a squabbleover a card-g am e, and he will defendhimself with the reflection that religionis , after al l , a human thing, and mustbe discussed in the light of every-daylivin g; and tha t the card-gam e is anintegral part of life, reveals the personalities of the playe rs, and his ownto himself and, being worthy of hisinterest , is worthy of his enthusiasm.T he ironist is ap t to test thing s by theirinterest as much as by their nobil i ty,and if he sees the incongruous and inflated in the lofty, so he sees the significant in the trivial and raises it fromits low degree. M an y a m ighty impostor does he put down from his seat.The ironist is the great intellectualdemocrat , in whose presence and before whose law all ideas and att i tudesstan d equal. In his world there isno privileged caste, no aristocracy ofsentiments to be reverenced, or segregated systems of interests to be tabooed. No thin g hum an is al ien to theironist; the whole world is throw nopen, naked, to the play of his judgment .

In the eyes of its detractors, ironyha s all the vices of dem ocrac y. It spublicity seems mere vulgarity, its freehospitality seems to shock all ideas ofmo ral wo rth. T he ironist is bu t ascoffer, they say, with weapon leveledeternally at al l tha t is good and trueand sacred. Th e adoption of ano the r 's

point of view seems little better thanmalicious dissimulation, the repeti t ion of others ' words, an elaboratemockery; the ironist 's eager interestseems a mere impudence or a lack offiner instincts; his interest in the trivial, the last confession of a mean spirit;

and his love of classifying, a proof ofhis poverty of imaginative resource.Irony, in other words, is thought to besynonym ous with cynicism. B ut theironist is no cynic. H is is a kindly , nota sour, interest in hum an mo tives. Hewants to find out how the humanmachine runs, not to prove that i t is aw orth less, bro ken -dow n aff"air. H e accepts it as it comes, and if he finds itcuriously feeble and futile in places,blam e not him, bu t th e na tur e of thing s.He finds enough rich compensation inthe unexpected charm that he consta nt ly finds himself eliciting. T heironist sees life steadily, and sees itwhole; the cynic only a distorted fragment .

If th e ironist is no t a cynic, neit her ishe merely a dealer in satire, burlesque,and ridicule. Iron y m ay be the rawmaterial , innocent in itself but capableof being pu t to evil uses. B u t it involves neither the malice of satire, northe horse-play of burlesque, nor thesta b of ridicule. Iro ny is infinitelyfiner, and more delicate and impersonal. Th e satir ist is alway s personaland concrete, but the ironist deals w ithgeneral principles and broad asp ects

of hum an nature . I t cannot be toomuch emphasized that the function ofthe ironist is not to make fun of people,bu t to give their souls an airing. Th eironist is a judge on the bench, givingmen a public hearing. H e is no t anaggressive spirit who goes about seeking whom h e may devou r, or a spiri tu allawyer who courts l i t igation, but thejudge before whom file all the facts ofhis experience: the people he meets;the o pinions he hears or reads; his own

att i tu de s and prepossessions. If anyare convicted they are self-convicted.The judge himself is passive, merciful,lenient . There is jud gm ent , but nopun ishm ent. Or rathe r, the tr ial itselfis the punishment .

Now, satire is al l that irony is not.


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T H E L I F E O F I R O N Y 363

The satirist is the aggressive lawyer,fastening upon particular people andparticular quali t ies. But irony is nomore personal than the sun that sendshis flaming darts into the world. Thesatirist is a purely practical m an, with

a business instinct, bent on the mainchan ce an d the definite obje ct. H e isoften brutal , and always overbearing;the ironist never. Iro ny m ay woun dfrom the very fineness and delicacy ofits attack, but the wounding is incidental . The sole purpose of the satiristand the burlcsquer is to wo und ; an dthey test their success by the deepnessof the wo und. Bu t irony tests i ts ownby the amount of generous l ight andair it has set flowing through an ideaor a personality, and the broad significance it has revealed in neglectedthings.

If irony is no t bru tal , neithe r is itmerely cri t ical and destru ctive. Th eworld has some reason, it is true, tocomplain against the rather supercil ious judiciousness of the ironist . 'W hoare you to judg e u s? ' i t cries. Th eworld does not like to feel the scrutinizing eyes of the ironist as he sits back inhis chair; does not like to feel that theironist is simply studying i t and amusing himself at its expen se. It is un eas y,and acts sometimes as if i t did notha ve a perfectly clear conscience . Tothis uncomfortablcness the ironist canre to r t , ' W ha t is i t that you are afra idto have known abou t you ? ' I f thejudgm ent am uses him, so much theworse for the world. B ut if the idea ofthe ironist as judge implies that hisatt i tu de is wholly de tache d, wholly

objective, i t is an unfortunate metaphor. Fo r he is as much part a nd parcel of the human show as any of thepeople he studies. Th e world is nostage, with the ironist as audien ce. Hisown personal reactions with the peopleabout him form all the stuff of histhou ghts and judg me nts . He has a

personal interest in the case; his ownpersonality is inextricably mingled inthe stream of impressions that f lowspast him. If the ironist is destructive ,it is his own world that he is destroying; if he is critical, it is his own world

th at he is criticizing. And h is irony ishis critique of life.This is the defense of the ironist

against the charge that he has a purelyaesthetic at tit ud e tow ard life. To ooften, perhaps, the sparkling clari ty ofhis thought, the play of his humor, theeasy sense of superiority and intellectual command hat he carries ofl", makehis irony appear as rather the Ecstheticnourishment of his life than an activeway of doing and being. His rathe rdetached air makes him seem to viewpeople as means, not ends, in themselves. W ith this delight in the vividan d poig nan t, he is pron e to see pic-turesqueness in the sordid, and tolerateevils tha t he should conde mn. For allhis interests and ac tivity , i t is said th athe does n 't really care . B ut this aesthetic taint to his irony is really onlyskin-deep.

Th e ironist is ironical, no t beca usehe does not care, but because he carestoo mu ch. H e is feeling the profound -est depths of the world's great beating,laboring hea rt , and his playful att i tu detow ard the grim and sordid is a necessary relief from the ten sion of too m uchcaring. I t is his salvation from un utterable despair. The terrible urgencyof the reali ty of po verty and miseryand exploitation would be too strongupon h im. Only irony can give him asense of proportion, and make his life

fruitful an d reso lute. It can give hima temporary escape, a sl ight momentary reconciliation, a chance to draw adeep breath of resolve, before plunginginto t he fight. I t is not a pallia tive somuch as a perspective.

This is the only justification of theassthetic att i tude, that, if taken pro-


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visionally, it sweetens and fortifies. Itis only deadly when adopted as absolute . Th e kind of es th et ic irony th atPa ter an d Om ar display is a paralyze d,half-seeing, half-caring reflection onlife, a tam e, dom esticated irony,

with i ts wings cut, an irony that furnishes a justif ication and a commandto inac tion . It is the result, no t ofexquisitely refined feelings, but ofsocial anaesthesia. Th eir irony , cut offfrom the great world of men andwomen and boys and girls and theirintricate interweavings and jostl ingsand incongruit ies, turns pale andsickly and numb. The ironist has noright to see beauty in things unless hereally cares. T he aesthetic sense is

harmless only when i t is both ironicaland social.

I l l

Irony is thus a cure for both optimism and pessimism. N oth ing is so revolt ing to the ironist as the smilingop tim ist, w ho testifies, in his fatuou sheedlessness, to the desirability of thisbest of al l possible worlds. But theironist has always an incorrigible propen sity to see the other side. Th e

hopeless malad justm ent of too m an ypeople to their world, of their bondagein the iron fetters of circumstance,all this is too glaring for the ironist 'splacid ity. W hen he examines the beautiful picture, too often the best turnsworst to him. But if optimism is impossible to the ironist, so is pessimism.The ironist may have a secret respectfor the pessimist, he at least has feltthe bitter tang of life, and has reallycared , bu t he feels th a t the pessimi st lacks. Fo r if the opti m ist is blind,th e pessimist is hypn otized . H e is abnorm ally suggestible to evil . B ut clearsighted irony sees that the world is toobig and multifarious to be evil at hea rt .Something beautiful and joyous lurkseven in the mo st hapless, a child 's

laugh in a dreary street , a smile on theface of a we ary wom an. It is this saving quali ty of irony that both optimistand pessimist miss. And since plaincommon sense tel ls us that things arenever quite so bad or quite so good as

they seem, the ironist carries conviction into the hearts of men in theirbes t moments .

The ironist is a person who counts inthe world. H e has all sorts of unexpected eff"ects on both the people hegoes with and himself. H is is an insistent personali ty; he is as troublesome as a missionary. And h e is amissionary; for, his own purpose beinga comprehension of his fellows' souls,he makes them conscious of their own

souls. He is a hard man; he will takenothing on reputa t ion; he wi l l guarantee for himself the qualities of things.He will not accept the vouchers of theworld that a man is wise, or clever, orsincere, behind the impenetrable veilof his face. H e mus t prob e un til heelicits the evidence of personali ty, unti l he gets at the peculiar qu ali t y w hichdistinguishes that individual soul. Forth e iro nist is, after all, a conno isseurin personali ty, and if his conversation

partakes too often of the character ofcross-examination, it is only as a loverof the b eautiful, a possessor of ta st e,that he inquires. He does not want tosee people squirm, but he does want tosee wh ether th ey are alive or not. Ifhe pricks too hard, it is not from malice, bu t me rely from error in his estimation of the toughness of their skins.What people are inside is the most interesting question in the world to theironi st. An d, in finding out, he stirs

them up. M any a pet ty, doubt ingspiri t does he challenge and bully intoa sort of self-respect. An d ma ny a bag-of-wind does he pu nct ure . B ut hismost useful function is this of stimulat ing thought and act ion. The i ronis tforces his friends to move their rusty


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T H E L I F E O F I R O N Y 365

limbs and unhinge the creaking doorsof their minds.

The world needs more ironists. Shutup with one's own thoughts, one losesthe glow of life th at comes from frankexchange of ideas with many kinds of

people. To o m any minds are stuffy,dusty rooms into which the windowshave never been opene d, minds heavywith their own crotchets, cluttered upwith un tested theories and conflictingsympathies that have never got relatedin any social way. The ironist blowsthem all helter-skelter, sweeps aw ay thedust, and sets everything in i ts properplace aga in. Yo ur solid, self-respectfulmind, the ironist confesses he can dolittle wit h: it is no t of his wo rld. H e

comes to freshen and tone up the stalemin ds. Th e ironist is the great purgeran d cleanser of life. Iro ny is a sort ofspiri tual massage, rubbing the souls ofme n. It m ay seem rough to some tender souls, but it does not sear or scarthem . Th e strong arm of the ironistrestores the circulation, and drivesaw ay anaemia.

On the ironist himself the effect ofirony is even more invigorating. W ecan never really understand ourselvesw ithou t at least a touch of irony. Th einterpreta t ion of human nature without is a simple matter in comparisonwith the comprehension of tha t com plexof elations and disgusts, inhibitions,and curious irrational impulses, th at wecall ourselve s. It is no t true th a t by examining ourselves and coming to anunderstanding of the way we behave,we unde rstand o ther people, but th atby the contrasts and li t t le revelations

of our friends we learn to interpret ourselves. Introspe ction is no m atch forirony as a guide. The most i l luminating experience that we can have is asudden realization that had we been inthe othe r person's place we should ha veacted precisely as he did. To the ironist this is no mere intellectual convic

tion, that, after all, none of us are perfect, but a vivid emotional experience,which has knit him with th at otherperson in one moment in a bond ofsympathy that could have been acquired in no other way. Tho se mind s

that lack the touch of irony are toolittle flexible, or too heavily buttressedwith self-esteem to ma ke this sud denchange of att i tu de s. Th e ironist , onemight almost say, gets his brotherhoodintuitively, and feels the sympathy andthe oneness in tru th before he think sthem.

The ironist is the only man whoreally gets outside of himself. W h a the does for othe r people, th at is ,picking out a little piece of their souls

and holding it up for their inspection, he does for himself. He gets thus anobjective view of his own spirit. T heunhealthy indoor brooding of introspection is artificial a nd un pro duc tive ,because i t has no perspective or contra st . Bu t the ironist , with his con stantoutdoor look, sees his own foibles andhumiliations in the light of those ofother people. He acquires a more tolerant, half-amused, half-earnest att itude toward himself. His self-respectis nourished by the knowledge thatwhatever things discreditable and foolish and worthless he has done, he ha sseen them approximated by others, andye t his esteem is kept safely prun eddown by the recurring evidence thatnot hin g he has is uni qu e. H e is poisedin life, ready to soar or to walk as theoccasion dem and s. H e is pivoted,susceptible to every stim ulus, and yetchained so that he can not be flungoff into space by his own centrifugalforce.

Irony has the same sweetening andfreshening effect on one's own life thatit does on the lives of those who comein co nta ct with it . It gives one a command of one's resources. The ironistpractices a perfect economy of mate-


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rial . For he m ust uti l ize his wealthconstan tly, and over and over again, invarious shapes and shadings. H e maybe poor in actu al material , but, out ofthe contrast and arrangement of thatslender store, he is able, like a kaleido

scope, to make a multifarious varietyof wonderful pat tern s. His curren tcoin is, so to speak, kept bright byconstant exchange. He is infinitelyricher than your opulent but miserlyminds that hoard up facts, and areimpotent from the very plethora oftheir accumulations.

Irony is essential to any real honesty. For dishonesty is, at bo ttom ,s imply an a t tempt to save somebody 'sface. B ut the ironist does not w an t

any faces saved, neither his own northose of other people. To save facesis to sophisticate human nature, tofalsify the facts, and miss a deliciouscontrast , an i l luminating revelation ofhow people ac t. So the ironist is theonly perfectly honest m an. B ut hesuffers for it by acqu iring a rep uta tio nfor im pud enc e. Hi s willingness to bearthe consequences of his own acts, hisquiet insistence that others shall bearconsequences, seem like mere shame-

lessness, a lack of delicate feeling for'si tu atio ns. ' Bu t, accustomed as he isto range freely and know no fear norfavor, he despises this reserve as aspecies of timidity or even hypocrisy.It is an irony itself that the one temperament that can be said really toappreciate human nature, in the senseof understanding i t r ightly, should becalled im pud ent, and i t is anot her th ati t should be denounced as monstrouslyegotist ical . Th e ironical min d is the

only truly modest mind, for i ts pointof view is ever outside itself. If it callsa t t en t ion to itself i t is only as an othe rof those fascinating human creaturesthat pass ever by with their bewildering, al luring way s. If i t talk s abo utitself it is only as a third person in

whom all the talkers are supposed to beeagerly interested. In this sense theironist has lost his egoism completely.H e has rubbed o ut th e l ine th at separate s his personalit y from th e rest ofthe world.

The ironist must take people veryseriously, to spend so much time overthem . H e m ust be bot h serious andsincere, or he would not persist in hisirony and expose himself to so muchmis understa nding . And since i t is nothow people treat him, but simply howthey act, that furnishes the basis forhis appreciation, the ironist finds iteasy to forgive. H e has a way of lettingthe individual offense slide, in favor ofa deeper principle. In th e act of being

grossly misrepresented, he can feel apang of exasperated delight that people should be so dens e; in th e act of being taken in, he can feel the clevernessof it all. H e becom es, for the m om ent,his own enem y; and we can always forgive ourselves. Even while being insulted or outraged or ignored, he can feel,'A fte r all, this is wh at life is Th is isthe way we poor human creatures beha ve ' Th e ironist is thu s, in a sense,vicarious hum an natu re . Thro ugh t ha t

deep, ant ic ipatory sym path y, he iskept clean from hate or scorn.

The ironist, therefore, has a validdefense against all the charges of brutali ty and tr iviali ty and irreverencethat the religious man is prone to bringagainst him. He can care mo re deeplyabout things because he can see somuch more widely; and he can takelife very seriously because it interestshim so inten sely; a nd he can feel i tspoignancy and its flux more keenly because he delivers himself up bravely toits swirling, ma ny-hu ed curre nt. Th einner peace of religion seems gainedonly at the expense of the reality oflivin g. A life such as the life of iron y,lived fully and joyously, cannot bepeaceful; i t cannot even be happy, in


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12/12

LETTERS OF A DOWN-AND-OUT

[An earlier installment of these letters wasprinted in the Atlantic for February, with a notewhich explained th at th ey are genuine letters written without thoug ht of publicat ion. The w ri teris a young man in th e thirtie s, who, havingachieved very considerable financial success, metwith misfortunes, and stripped of money, wife,and chi ldren, went We st to m ake a new sta r t . T H E E D I TO B S . ]

Wednesday May 8.Fro m M r. Malone, not Maloney ,

this morning I secured the job of t ime

keeper at Ca mp 26A. He and I walkup to-morrow. This has been a dayof idleness, devoted chiefly to talkingwith the different men sitting aroundthe so-called hote l . Me n here hav ebeen pretty much all over the world,th e gre ater pa rt in search of gold. Afew have struck it, but like most gambling money, they blew it in in shortorder. H ad a na p this afternoon an dcaught cold.

Thursday May 9 .

Left Seeley with Mr. Malone ateight o'clock. It seemed good to bewalk ing with ou t a pack . M ine I left a tthe warehouse, and it will reach campby the first freight team that goes in toour camp . Reached New Hazel tonabout ten, and after a few moments inthe general office started once more upriver, this t ime the Buckley, a branchof the Skeena, the Skeena going northby north-east , while the Buckley follows an easterly direction. W alked

steadily until noon, reaching DuncanRoss's camp just at dinne r-t ime. He isworking on the longest tunnel on theroad.

Resuming our mush at one, reachedCamp 26A at three o'clock, and asI had developed a bird of a headache,I for one was glad the trip was over.

Camp 26A is not very large, onlyfifty-odd men being on the job; i t 's acut-and-fill prop osition . Th e old timekeeper was overjoyed to see me; itseems he is capta in of th e Ne w Hazel-ton baseball team and that they playOld Hazel ton on Sun day. About twohours finished m y instruc tions, an d asthe book s are quite simple I do not anticipate any great trouble with thework.

Friday May 10.Spent the day in checking up my

predecessor 's work. H ad an old-fashioned headache in the night whichI th ou gh t would kill m e. Coffee everyhalf hour is keeping me going, and,by the way, is the best tha t I ' v e h adsince I was in New Yor k. Th e cook isa good one, but has n ' t a great deal towork with . Of course, the furtherfrom the base of supplies, the simplerthe food mu st be. I t ' s beef potatoes ,

coffee, and tea three times a day, andvery little besides.

Saturday May 11.

Married twelve years ago to-day,'Tempus fugi t . '

Have completely checked up my accounts. Everything O.K. except cash,which is 50 cents sho rt. Look ed overthe job carefully. It re min ds me a gooddeal of coal-mining.

It 's a great relief to get a decentplace to sleep. The office, occupied bythe Foreman and myself is a small(15 X 15) log cabin, but clean with twovery decent bunks, and one gets someair at nigh t. A camp stove in the middle of the room gives a welcome glow inthe morning as, though it is very warmin the middle of the day, ice still forms

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