560 OLIVER WENDELL HOLMES. 



" Now we have lost him, our lament must be 

 We have five hundred — not as good as he." 



That communities less witty should occasionally be shocked by his 

 play of fancy is, reversely, to be expected. Possibly, the New Eng- 

 lander himself is a mistake, and all life as serious a thing as the 

 statutes declare. But it tires one to think so. 



Punuinw, unlike other crimes, is commonly denounced by such as 

 are themselves incapable of committing it. Doubtless there are puns 

 that are poorer than others, some of Shakespeare's being, by the 

 accepted standard, among the worst, — but even a pun is not always 

 hopelessly depraved. Still less so is humor which deals with the im- 

 pression rather than with the expression of the thought. Yet, I sup- 

 pose no humorist has lacked friendly critics to apologize to the public 

 for his wit. I have just read some very kind excuses made for 

 Holmes on this score, and am wondering why man is the only laugh- 

 ing animal if he must needs be so ashamed of his propensity. The 

 philosopher perceives the profound unimportance of things, including 

 his own opinions ; it is the Governor's aide who takes himself seriously. 



Pathos and pleasantry are twins. The mind that conceives the one 

 feels the other. Even the funniest of Holmes's verse stands against a 

 background of feeling. He was so human. His set productions of a 

 pathetic character are singularly few, — as few as the actual occasions 

 in life that to a healthy mind call them forth. But all his verse is 

 touched by emotion hinted at, not expressed, as to any sensitive soul 

 is life itself. Even his " Last Leaf "is not primarily pathetic but 

 humorous, yet the stanza, 



" The mossy marbles rest 

 On the lips that he has pressed 



In their bloom, 

 And the names he loved to hear 

 Have been carved for many a year 



On the tomb," 



brings a lump into the throat and a dimming of the eyes, no matter 

 how often one repeat the lines. It is to miss the point to consider 

 this poem, as I have seen done by a critic from across the sea, as a 

 pathetic production, and then explain away the humor in it as irrele- 

 vant. The humor it is that has the right of way, but makes way 

 insensibly for the feeling. 



Another point in which Holmes stood representative of his unwrit- 

 ten constituents was his skill in apt simile. A shunning of the 

 positive leads the New Englander unconsciously into parable. Rather 



