A lady once told me she could always know when she had taken too much wine at dinner—her husband’s jokes began to seem funny!
Lastly and—_finally_, there is a reason for our apparent lack of humor, which it may seem ungracious to mention. Women do not find it politic to cultivate or express their wit. No man likes to have his story capped by a better and fresher from a lady’s lips. What woman does not risk being called sarcastic and hateful if she throws back the merry dart, or indulges in a little sharp-shooting? No, no, it’s dangerous—if not fatal.
“Though you’re bright, and though you’re pretty,
They’ll not love you if you’re witty.”
Madame de Stael and Madame Recamier are good illustrations of this point. The former, by her fearless expressions of wit, exposed herself to the detestation of the majority of mankind. “She has shafts,” said Napoleon, “which would hit a man if he were seated on a rainbow.”
But the sweetly fawning, almost servile adulation of the
Parker’s illustration of Choate’s
And do you recollect the only time that Wordsworth was
He paused; the company waited for the promised witticism, but discovering that he had finished, burst into a long and hearty roar, which the old gentleman accepted complacently as a tribute to his brilliancy.
The wit of women is like the airy froth of champagne, or the witching iridescence of the soap-bubble, blown for a moment’s sport. The sparkle, the life, the fascinating foam, the gay tints vanish with the occasion, because there is no listening Boswell with unfailing memory and capacious note-book to preserve them.
Then, unlike men, women do not write out their impromptus beforehand and carefully hoard them for the publisher—and posterity!
And now, dear friends, a cordial
My heartiest thanks to the women who have so generously allowed me to ransack their treasuries, filching here and there as I chose, always modestly declaiming against the existence of wit in what they had written.
To various publishers in New York and Boston, who have been most courteous and liberal, credit is given elsewhere.
Touched by the occasion, I “drop into” doggerel:
If you pronounce this book not funny,
And wish you hadn’t spent your money,
There soon will be a general rumor
That you’re no judge of Wit or Humor.
INDEX.
PAGE.
INTRODUCTION iii.
CONTENTS v.
DEDICATION vii.
ARGUMENT ix.
PROEM xi.
CHAP. PAGE.
Alcott, Louisa: “Transcendental Wild Oats” IV. 68
American Early Writers: Some of them who were thought
Witty—Anne Bradstreet; Mercy Warren; Tabitha Tenney III. 47
Satirical Poem, by Mercy Warren III. 47
Mrs. Sigourney’s Johnsonese Humor; Extracts from her
Note-Book III. 48
Miss Sedgwick’s Witty Imagination, III. 49
Mrs. Caroline Gilman’s humorous Poem, “Joshua’s
Courtship” III. 49
Andersen, Hans, Reference to Woman Dramatist in his
Autobiography X. 196
Aphorisms by the Queen of Roumania (Carmen Sylva) I. 24
“Auction Extraordinary” VIII. 176
“Aunty Doleful’s Visit,” by M.K.D.—”If I can’t do
anything else, I can cheer you up a little” VI. 118
Barnum and Phoebe Cary V. 102
Bates, Charlotte Fiske: “Hat, Ulster and All,” Satirical
Poem, Quatrain and Epigram VIII. 175
“Beechers,” Old Family Epigram applied to the I. 22
Behn, Aphra: Wrote Comedies; her unsavory Wit X. 195
Bellows, Isabel Frances: “A Fatal Reputation” (for
wit)—”A picnic, that most ghastly device of the human
mind” VII. 129
Bremer, Frederika, her genuine Humor; First Quarrel with
her “Bear” II. 41
Brine, Mary D.: Poems, “Kiss Pretty Poll” VIII. 158
” ” “Thanksgiving Day—Then and Now” VIII. 159
Burleigh, Pun on, by Queen Elizabeth I. 16
Butter, Punning Poem on, by Caroline B. Le Row I. 18
Cary, Phoebe, “The wittiest woman in America”: Her
quick retorts and merry repartees; her parodies and
humorous poems V. 101
Champney, Lizzie W.: “An Unruffled Bosom”—a Tragical
Tale of a Negress who “knew Washington” VIII. 171
Clarke, Lady, and her Irish Songs II. 44
Cleveland’s, Elizabeth Rose, Pun I. 21
Cleaveland’s, Mrs.,