762

VII

WIT AND THE VARIOUS FORMS OF
THE COMIC

We have approached the problems of the comic in an unusual manner. It
appeared to us that wit, which is usually regarded as a sub-
species of the comic, offered enough peculiarities to warrant our taking it directly under
consideration, and thus it came about that we avoided discussing its rela-
tion to the more comprehensive category of the comic as long as it was
possible to do so, yet we did not proceed without picking up on the way
some hints that might be valuable for studying the comic. We found it
easy to ascertain that the comic differs from wit in its social behavior. The
comic is content with only two persons, one who finds the comical,
and one in whom it is found. The third person to whom the comical may
be imparted reinforces the comic process, but adds nothing new to it. In
wit, however, this third person is indispensable for the completion of the
pleasure-bearing process, while the second person may be omitted, espe-
cially when it is not a question of aggressive wit with a tendency. Wit is
made, while the comical is found; it is found first of all in persons, and
only later by transference may be seen also in objects, situations, and the
like. We know, too, in the case of wit that it is not a strange person’s, but
one’s own mental processes that contain the sources for the production of
pleasure. In addition, we have heard that wit occasionally reopens inac-
cessible sources of the comic, and that the comic often serves wit as a
façade to replace the fore-pleasure usually produced by the above de-
scribed technique. All of this does not really point to a very simple rela-
tionship between wit and the comic. On the other hand, the problems of
the comic have shown themselves to be so complicated, and have until
now so successfully defied all attempts made by the philosophers to solve
them, that we have not been able to justify the expectation of mastering it
by a sudden stroke, so to speak, even if we approach it along the paths of
wit. Incidentally we came provided with an instrument for investigating
wit that had not yet been made use of by others; namely, the knowledge
of dream-work. We have no similar advantage at our disposal for compre-
hension.

763

hending the comic, and we may therefore expect that we shall learn noth-
ing about the nature of the comic other than that which we have already
become aware of in wit; in so far as wit belongs to the comic and retains
certain features of the same, unchanged or modified in its own nature.

THE NAÏVE

The species of the comic that is most closely allied to wit is the naïve.
Like the comic the naïve is found universally and is not made as in the
case of wit. The naïve cannot be made at all, while in the case of the pure
comic the question of making or evoking the comical may be taken into
account. The naïve must result without our intervention from the speech
and actions of other persons who take the place of the second person in
the comic or in wit. The naïve originates when one puts himself com-
pletely outside of inhibition, because it does not exist for him; that is, if
he seems to overcome it without any effort. What conditions the function
of the naïve is the fact that we are aware that the person does not possess
this inhibition, otherwise we should not call it naïve but impudent, and
instead of laughing we should be indignant. The effect of the naïve, which
is irresistible, seems easy to understand. The expenditure of inhibition
which we usually make suddenly becomes inapplicable when we hear the
naïve and is discharged through laughter; as the removal of the inhibi-
tion is direct, and not the result of an incited operation, there is no need for
a suspension of attention. We behave like the hearer in wit, to whom the
economy of inhibition is given without any effort on his part.

Following our insight into the genesis of inhibitions, which we obtained
while tracing the development of play into wit, it is not surprising to learn
that the naïve is mostly found in children, although it may also be ob-
served in uneducated adults, upon whom we look as children as far as
their intellectual development is concerned. For the purposes of compari-
son with wit, naïve speech is naturally better adapted than naïve actions,
for speech and not actions are the usual forms of expression employed by
wit. It is significant, however, that naïve speeches, such as those of chil-
dren, can without straining also be designated as “naïve witticisms.” The
points of agreement as well as demonstration between wit and naïveté will
become clear to us upon consideration of a few examples.¹

A little girl of three years was accustomed to hear from her German
nurse the exclamatory word “Gesundheit” (God bless you!; literally, may
you be healthy!) whenever she happened to sneeze. While suffering from
a severe cold during which the profuse coughing and sneezing caused her
considerable pain, she pointed to her chest and said to her father, “Daddy,
Gesundheit hurts.”

Another little girl of four years heard her parents refer to a Jewish ac-
count.

¹Given by the Editor.

764

quaintance as a Hebrew, and on later hearing the latter’s wife referred to
as Mrs. X, she corrected her mother, saying, “No, that is not her name; her
husband is a Hebrew she is a Shebrew.”

In the first example the wit is produced through the use of a contiguous
association in the form of an abstract thought for the concrete action. The
child so often heard the word “Gesundheit” associated with sneezing that
she took it for the act itself. The second example may be designated
as word-wit formed by the technique of sound similarity. The child di-
vided the word Hebrew into He-brew and having been taught the genders
of the personal pronouns, she naturally imagined that if the man is a He-
brew his wife must be a She-brew. Both examples could have originated
as real witticisms upon which we would have unwillingly bestowed a little
mild laughter. But as examples of naïveté they seem excellent and cause
loud laughter. But what is it here that produces the difference between
wit and naïveté? Apparently it is neither the wording nor the technique,
which is the same for both wit and the naïve, but a factor which at first
sight seems remote from both. It is simply a question whether we assume
that the speakers had the intention of making a witticism or whether we
assume that they—the children—wished to draw an earnest conclusion, a
conclusion held in good faith though based on uncorrected knowledge.
Only the latter case is one of naïveté. It is here that our attention is first
called to the mechanism in which the second person places himself into
the psychic process of the person who produces the wit.

The investigation of a third example will confirm this opinion. A
brother and a sister, the former ten and the latter twelve years old, pro-
duce a play of their own composition before an audience of uncles and
aunts. The scene represents a hut on the seashore. In the first act the two
dramatist-actors, a poor fisherman and his devoted wife, complain about
the hard times and the difficulty of getting a livelihood. The man decides
to sail over the wide ocean in his boat in order to seek wealth elsewhere,
and after a touching farewell the curtain is drawn. The second act takes
place several years later. The fisherman has come home rich with a big
bag of money and tells his wife, whom he finds waiting in front of the hut,
what good luck he has had in the far countries. His wife interrupts him
proudly, saying: “Nor have I been idle in the meanwhile,” and opens the
hut, on whose floor the fisherman sees twelve large dolls representing chil-
dren asleep. At this point of the drama the performers were interrupted by
an outburst of laughter on the part of the audience, a thing which they
could not understand. They stared dumbfounded at their dear relatives,
who had thus far behaved respectably and had listened attentively. The
explanation of this laughter lies in the assumption on the part of the audi-
ence that the young dramatists knew nothing as yet about the origin of
children, and were therefore in a position to believe that a wife would ac-

768

tually boast of bearing offspring during the prolonged absence of her
husband, and that the husband would rejoice with her over it. But the re-
sults achieved by the dramatists on the basis of this ignorance may be
designated as nonsense or absurdity.

These examples show that the naïve occupies a position midway be-
tween wit and the comic. As far as wording and contents are concerned,
the naïve speech is identical with wit; it produces a misuse of words, a bit
of nonsense, or an obscenity. But the psychic process of the first person or
producer which, in the case of wit, offered us so much that was interest-
ing and puzzling, is here entirely absent. The naïve person imagines that
he is using his thoughts and expressions in a simple and normal manner;
he has no other purpose in view, and receives no pleasure from his naïve
production. All the characteristics of the naïve lie in the conception of the
hearer, who corresponds to the third person in the case of wit. The produc-
ing person creates the naïve without any effort. The complicated tech-
nique, which in wit serves to paralyze the inhibition produced by critical
reason, does not exist here, because the person does not possess this in-
hibition, and he can, therefore, readily produce the senseless or the ob-
scene without any compromise. The naïve may be added to the realm of
wit if it comes into existence after the important function of the censor-
ship, as observed in the formula for wit-formation, has been reduced to
zero.

If the affective determination of wit consists in the fact that both per-
sons should be subject to about the same inhibitions or inner resistances,
we may say now that the condition of the naïve consists in the fact that
one person should have inhibitions which the other lacks. It is the person
provided with inhibitions who understands the naïve, and it is he alone
who gains the pleasure produced by the naïve. We can easily understand
that this pleasure is due to the removal of inhibitions. Since the pleasure
of wit is of the same origin—a kernel of word-pleasure and nonsense-
pleasure, and a shell of removal- and release-pleasure—the similarity of
this connection to the inhibition thus determines the inner relationship be-
tween the naïve and wit. In both cases pleasure results from the removal
of inner inhibitions. But the psychic process of the recipient person
(which in the naïve regularly corresponds with our ego, whereas in wit we
may also put ourselves in place of the producing person) is by as much
more complicated in the case of the naïve as it is simpler in the producing
person in wit. For one thing, the naïve must produce the same effect upon
the receiving person as wit does, this may be fully confirmed by our ex-
amples, for just as in wit the removal of the censorship has been made pos-
sible by the mere effort of hearing the naïve. But only a part of the pleasure
created by the naïve admits of this explanation, in other cases of naïve
utterances, even this portion would be endangered; as, for example, while

766

listening to naïve obscenities. We would react to a naïve obscenity with
the same indignation felt toward a real obscenity, were it not for the fact
that another factor saves us from this indignation and at the same time
furnishes the more important part of the pleasure derived from the naïve.

This other factor is the result of the condition mentioned before,
namely, that in order to recognize the naïve we have to be cognizant of
the fact that there are no inner inhibitions in the producing person. It is
only when this is assured that we laugh instead of being indignant. Hence
we take into consideration the psychic state of the producing person; we
imagine ourselves in this same psychic state and endeavor to understand
it by comparing it to our own. This putting ourselves into the psychic
state of the producing person and comparing it with our own, results in
an economy of expenditure which we discharge through laughter.

We might prefer the simpler explanation, namely, that when we reflect
that the person has no inhibition to overcome, our indignation becomes
superfluous; the laughing, therefore, results at the cost of economized in-
dignation. In order to avoid this conception, which is, in general, mis-
leading, I shall distinguish more sharply between two cases that I had
treated as one in the above discussion. The naïve, as it appears to us, may
either be in the nature of a witticism, as in our example, or an obscenity,
or of anything generally objectionable; which becomes especially evident
if the naïve is expressed not in speech but in action. This latter case is
really misleading; for one might here assume, that the pleasure originates
from the economized and transformed indignation. The first case, how-
ever, is the explanatory one. The naïve speech in the example “Hebrew”
can produce the effect of a light witticism and give no cause for indigna-
tion; it is certainly the more rare, or the more pure and by far the more
instructive case. In so far as we think that the child took the syllable “he”
in “Hebrew” seriously, and without any additional reason identified it
with the masculine personal pronoun, the increase in pleasure as a result
of hearing it, has no longer anything to do with the pleasure of the wit.
We shall now consider what has been said from two viewpoints, first how
it came into existence in the mind of the child, and secondly, how it would
occur to us. In following this comparison we find that the child has dis-
covered an identity and has overcome barriers which exist in us, and by
continuing still further it may express itself as follows: “If you wish to
understand what you have heard, you may save yourself the expenditure
necessary for holding these barriers in place.” The expenditure which be-
came freed by this comparison is the source of pleasure in the naïve, and
is discharged through laughter; to be sure, it is the same expenditure
which we would have converted into indignation if our understanding of
the producing person, and in this case the nature of his utterance, had
not precluded it. But if we take the case of the naïve joke as a model for

767

WIT AND THE VARIOUS FORMS OF THE COMIC
the second case, viz., the objectionable naïve, we shall see that here, too,
the economy in inhibition may originate directly from the comparison.
That is, it is unnecessary for us to assume an incipient and then a stran-
gulated indignation, an indignation corresponding to a different applica-
tion of the freed expenditure, against which, in the case of wit, compli-
cated defensive mechanisms are required.

SOURCE OF COMIC PLEASURE IN THE NAÏVE

This comparison and this economy of expenditure that occur, as the result
of putting one’s self into the psychic process of the producing person, can
have an important bearing on the naïve, only if they do not belong to
the naïve alone. As a matter of fact, we suspect that this mechanism which
is so completely foreign to wit is a part—perhaps the essential part—of
the psychic process of the comic. This aspect—it is perhaps the most im-
portant aspect of the naïve—thus represents the naïve as a form of the
comic. Whatever is added to the wit-pleasure by the naïve speeches in
our examples is “comical” pleasure. Concerning the latter, we might be
inclined to make a general assumption, that this pleasure originates
through an economized expenditure by comparing the utterance of some
one else with our own. But since we are here in the presence of very broad
views we shall first conclude our consideration of the naïve. The naïve
would thus be a form of the comic, in so far as its pleasure originates from
the difference in expenditure which results in our effort to understand the
other person; and it resembles wit through the condition that the ex-
penditure saved by the comparison must be an inhibition expenditure.¹

Before concluding let us rapidly point out a few agreements and dif-
ferences between the conceptions at which we have just arrived, and
those that have been known for a long time in the psychology of the comic.
The putting one’s self into the psychic process of another and the desire
to understand him is obviously nothing else than the so-called “comic
burrowing” which has played a part in the analysis of the comic ever
since the time of Jean Paul; the “comparing” of the psychic process of
another with our own corresponds to a “psychological contrast,” for which
we here at last find a place, after we did not know what to do with it in
wit. But in our explanation of comic pleasure we take issue with many
authors who contend that this pleasure originates through the fluctuation
of our attention to and fro between contrasting ideas. We are unable to
see how such a mechanism could produce pleasure, and we point to the
fact that in the comparing of contrasts there results a difference in ex-

¹I have everywhere here identified the naïve with the naïve-comic, which is certainly
not permissible in all cases. But it serves our purposes to study the characteristics of
the naïve as seen in the “naïve joke” and the “naïve obscenity.” It is our intention to
proceed from here with the investigation of the nature of the comic.

768

penditure which, if not used for anything else, becomes capable of dis
charge and hence a source of pleasure.¹

It is with misgiving only that we approach the problem of the comic.
It would be presumptuous to expect from our efforts any decisive con
tribution to the solution of this problem after the works of a large num
ber of excellent thinkers have not resulted in an explanation that is in
every respect satisfactory. As a matter of fact, we intend simply to fol
low out into the province of the comic certain observations that have been
found valuable in the study of wit.

OCCURRENCE AND ORIGIN OF THE COMIC

The comical appears primarily as an unintentional discovery in the so
cial relations of human beings. It is found in persons—that is, in their
movements, shapes, actions, and characteristic traits. In the beginning it
is found probably only in their physical peculiarities and later on in their
mental qualities, especially in the expression of the latter. Even animals
and inanimate objects become comical as the result of a widely used
method of personification. However, the comical can be considered apart
from the person in whom it is found, if the conditions under which a
person becomes comical can be discerned. Thus arises the comical situa
tion, and this knowledge enables us to make a person comical at will by
putting him into situations in which the conditions necessary for the
comic are bound up with his actions. The discovery that it is in our power
to make another person comical opens the way to unsuspected gains in
comic pleasure, and forms the foundation of a highly developed tech
nique. It is also possible to make one’s self just as comical as others. The
means which serve to make a person comical are transference into comic
situations, imitations, disguise, unmasking, caricature, parody traves-
ty, and the like. It is quite evident that these techniques may enter into the
service of hostile or aggressive tendencies. A person may be made comical
in order to render him contemptible or in order to deprive him of his
claims to dignity and authority. But even if such a purpose were regu
larly at the bottom of all attempts to make a person comical this need not
necessarily be the meaning of the spontaneous comic.

As a result of this superficial survey of the manifestations of the comic
we can readily see that the comic originates from wide-spread sources,
and that conditions so specialized as those found in the naïve cannot be
expected in the case of the comic. In order to get a clue to the conditions

¹⁾Also Bergson (Laughter, An Essay on the Meaning of the Comic, translated by Bre
reton and Rothwell, The Macmillan Co., 1914) rejects with sound arguments this
sort of explanation of comic pleasure, which has unmistakably been influenced by
the effort to create an analogy to the laughing of a person tickled. The explanation
of comic pleasure by Lipps, which might, in connection with his conception of the
comic, be represented as an “unexpected trifle,” is of an entirely different nature.

769

that are applicable to the comic the selection of the first example is most
important. We will examine first the comic movement because we re-
member that the most primitive stage performance, the pantomime, uses
this means to make us laugh. The answer to the question, “Why do we
laugh at the actions of the clowns?”, would be that their actions appear
to us immoderate and inappropriate; that is, we really laugh over the
excessive expenditure of energy. Let us look for the same condition out-
side of the manufactured comic, that is, under circumstances where it
may unintentionally be found. The child’s motions do not appear to us
comical, even if he jumps and fidgets, but it is comical to see a little boy
or girl follow with the tongue the movement of his pen-holder when he is
trying to master the art of writing; we see in these additional motions a
superfluous expenditure of energy which under similar conditions we save.
In the same way we find it comical to see unnecessary motions or even
marked exaggeration of expressive motions in adults. Among the genu-
inely comic cases we might mention the motions made by the bowler after
he has released the ball while he is following its course as though he were
still able to control it. All grimaces which exaggerate the normal expres-
sion of the emotions are comical, even if they are involuntary, as in the
case of persons suffering from St. Vitus’ dance (chore-a). The impas-
sioned movements of a modern orchestra leader will appear comical to
every unmusical person, who cannot understand why they are necessary.
Indeed, the comic element found in bodily shapes and physiognomy is a
branch of the comic of motion, in that they are conceived as if they were
the result of motion that has been carried too far or motion that is pur-
poseless. Wide exposed eyes, a crook-shaped nose bent towards the mouth
handle-like ears, a hunch back, and all similar physical defects probably
produce a comical impression only in so far as the movements that would
be necessary to produce these features are imagined, whereby the nose
and other parts of the body are pictured as more movable than they ac-
tually are. It is certainly comical if some one can “wiggle his ears,” and it
would undoubtedly be a great deal more comical if he could raise and
lower his nose. A large part of the comical impression that animals make
upon us is due to the fact that we perceive in them movements which we
cannot imitate.

COMIC OF MOTION

But how does it come about that we laugh as soon as we have recognized
that the actions of some one else are immoderate and inappropriate? I
believe that we laugh because we compare the motions observed in others
with those which we ourselves should produce if we were in their place.
The two persons must naturally be compared in accordance with the
same standard, but this standard is my own innervation expenditure con-

770

nected with my idea of motion in the one case as well as the other. This
assertion is in need of discussion and amplification.

What we are here putting into juxtaposition is, on the one hand, the
psychic expenditure of a given idea, and on the other hand, the content
of this idea. We maintain that the former is not primarily and principally
independent of the latter—the content of the idea—particularly because
the idea of something great requires a larger expenditure than the idea of
something small. As long as we are concerned only with the idea of dif-
ferent coarse movements, we shall encounter no difficulties in the theoret-
ical determination of our thesis or in establishing its proof through
observation. It will be shown that in this case an attribute of the idea ac-
tually coincides with an attribute of the object conceived, although psy-
chology warns us of confusions of this sort.

I obtain an idea of a definite coarse movement by performing this mo-
tion or by imitating it, and in so doing I set a standard for this motion in
my feelings of innervation.¹

Now if I perceive a similar more or less coarse motion in some one else,
the surest way to the understanding—to apperception—of the same is to
carry it out imitatively, and the comparison will then enable me to decide
in which motion I expended more energy. Such an impulse to imitate cer-
tainly arises on perceiving a movement. But in reality I do not carry out
the imitation any more than I still spell out words simply because I have
learned to read by means of spelling. Instead of imitating the movement
with my muscles I substitute the idea of the same through my memory
traces of the expenditures necessary for similar motions. Perceiving, or
“thinking,” differs above all from acting or carrying out things, through
the fact that it entails a very much smaller displacement of energy and
keeps the main expenditure from being discharged. But how is the quan-
titative factor, the greater or lesser element of the movement perceived,
given expression in the idea? And if the representation of the quantity is
left off from the idea that is composed of qualities, how am I to differ-
entiate the ideas of different big movements, how am I to compare them?

Here, physiology shows the way in that it teaches us that even while
an idea is in the process of conception innervations proceed to the mus-
cles, which naturally represent only a moderate expenditure. It is now
easy to assume that this expenditure of innervation which accompanies
the conception of the idea is utilized to represent the quantitative factor.

¹The recollection of this innervation expenditure will remain the essential part of
the idea of this motion, and there will always be methods of thought in my psychic
life in which the idea will be represented by nothing else but this expenditure. In
other connections a substitute for this element may possibly be put in the form of
other ideas, for instance the visual idea of the object of the motion, or it may be
put in the form of the word-idea; and in certain types of abstract thought a sign in-
stead of the full content itself may suffice.

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WIT AND THE VARIOUS FORMS OF THE COMIC
of the idea, and that when a great motion is imagined it is greater than
it would be in the case of a smaller one. The conception of greater motions
would thus actually be greater, that is, it would be a conception accom-
panied by greater expenditure.

IDEATIONAL MIMICRY

Observation shows directly that human beings are in the habit of ex-
pressing the big and small things in their ideation content by means of a
manifold expenditure or by means of a sort of ideational mimicry.

When a child or a person of the common people or one belonging to a
certain race imparts or depicts something, one can easily observe that he
is not content to make his ideas intelligible to the hearer through the
choice of correct words alone, but that he also represents the contents of
the same through his expressive motions. Thus, he designates the quanti-
ties and intensities of “a high mountain” by raising his hands over his
head, and those of “a little dwarf” by lowering his hand to the ground. If he
controlled the habit of depicting with his hands, he would nevertheless do
it with his voice, and if he should also control his voice, one may be sure
that in picturing something big he would distend his eyes, and in describ-
ing something little he would press his eyes together. It is not his own af-
fects that he thus expresses, but it is really the content of what he imagines.
Shall we now assume that this need for mimicry is first aroused through
the demand for imparting, whereas a good part of this manner of repre-
sentation still escapes the attention of the hearer? I rather believe that
this mimicry, though less vivid, exists even if all imparting is left out of
the question, that it comes about when the person imagines for himself
alone, or thinks of something in a graphic manner; that then such a person,
just as in talking, expresses through his body the idea of big and small
which manifests itself at least through a change of innervation in the
facial expressions and sensory organs. Indeed, I can imagine that the
bodily innervation which is consensual to the content of the idea con-
ceived is the beginning and origin of mimicry for purposes of communi-
cation. For, in order to be in a position to serve this purpose, it is only
necessary to increase it and make it conspicuous to the other. When I take
the view that this “expression of the ideation content” should be added
to the expression of the emotions, which are known as physical by-prod-
ucts of psychic processes, I am well aware that my observations which
refer to the category of big and small do not exhaust the subject. I my-
self could add still other things, even before reaching to the phenomenon
of tension through which a person physically indicates the accumulation
of his attention and the niveau of abstraction upon which his thoughts
happen to rest. I maintain that this subject is very important, and I be-

772

lieve that tracing the ideation mimicry in other fields of æsthetics would
be just as useful for the understanding of the comic as it is here.

To return to the comic movement, I repeat that with the perception of
a certain motion the impulse to conceive it will be given through a cer-
tain expenditure. In the “desire to understand,” in the apperception of
this movement I produce a certain expenditure, and I behave in this part
of the psychic process just as if I put myself in the place of the person
observed. Simultaneously I probably grasp the aim of the motion, and
through former experiences I am able to estimate the amount of expendi-
ture necessary to attain this aim. I thereby drop out of consideration the
person observed and behave as if I myself wished to attain the aim of the
motion. These two ideational possibilities depend on a comparison of
the motion observed, with my own inhibited motion. In the case of an im-
moderate or inappropriate movement on the part of the other, my greater
expenditure for understanding becomes inhibited in statu nascendi dur-
ing the mobilization as it were, it is declared superfluous and stands free
for further use or for discharge through laughing. If other favorable con-
ditions supervene¹⁾, this would be the nature of the origin of pleasure in
comic movement—an innervation expenditure which, when compared
with one’s own motion, becomes an inapplicable surplus.

COMPARISON OF TWO KINDS OF EXPENDITURE AS PLEASURE-SOURCES

We now note that we must continue our discussion by following two dif-
ferent paths: first, to determine the conditions for the discharge of the
surplus; secondly, to test whether the other cases of the comic can be
conceived similarly to our conception of comic motion.

We shall turn first to the latter task and after considering comic move-
ment and action we shall turn to the comic found in the psychic activities
and peculiarities of others.

As an example of this kind we may consider the comical nonsense pro-
duced by ignorant students at examinations; it is more difficult, however,
to give a simple example of peculiarities of character. We must not be con-
fused by the fact that nonsense and foolishness which so often act in a
comical manner are nevertheless not perceived as comical in all cases, just
as the same things which once made us laugh because they seemed com-
ical may appear later as contemptible and hateful. This fact, which we
must not forget to take into account, simply points to the fact that besides
the comparison familiar to us other relations come into consideration for
the comic effect—conditions which we can investigate in other connec-
tions.

The comic found in the mental and psychic attributes of another per-
son is apparently again the result of a comparison between him and my
own ego. But it is remarkable that it is a comparison which has more often

773

furnished the opposite result than in the case of comic movement and
action. In the latter case is was comical if the other person exerted a
greater expenditure than I believed necessary for me; in the case of psy-
chic activity it is just the reverse, it is comical if the other person econ-
omizes in expenditure, which I consider indispensable, for nonsense and
foolishness are nothing but inferior functions. In the first case I laugh
because he makes it too difficult for himself, and in the latter case because
he makes it too easy for himself. As to the comic effect, it is obviously only
a question of the difference between the two cathexes expenditures—the
one of empathy,¹ and the other of the ego—and not in whose favor this
difference inclines. This peculiarity, which at first confuses our judgment,
disappears, however, when we consider that it is in accord with our per-
sonal development towards a higher stage of culture to limit our mus-
cular work and increase our mental work. By heightening our mental ex-
penditure we produce a diminution of motion expenditure for the same
activity. Our machines bear witness to this cultural success.²

Thus, it coincides with a uniform understanding that that person ap-
pears comical to us who puts forth too much expenditure in his physical
activities and too little in his mental activities; and it cannot be denied
that in both cases our laughing is the expression of a pleasurably per-
ceived superiority which we adjudge to ourselves in comparison with
him. If the relation in both cases becomes reversed, that is, if the somatic
expenditure of the other is less and the psychic expenditure greater, then
we no longer laugh, but are struck with amazement and admiration.³

COMIC OF SITUATION

The origin of the comic pleasure discussed here, that is, the origin of such
pleasure in a comparison of the other person with one’s own self in re-
spect to the difference between the empathy expenditure and one’s own
expenditure—is genetically probably most important. It is certain, how-
ever, that it is not the only one. We have learned before to disregard any
such comparison between the other person and one’s self, and to obtain
the pleasure-bringing difference from one side only, either from empathy,
or from the processes in one’s own ego, proving thereby that the feeling
of superiority bears no essential relations to comic pleasure. A compari-
son is indispensable, however, for the origin of this pleasure, and we find
this comparison between two energy expenditures which rapidly follow
each other and refer to the same function. It is produced either in our-
selves by way of empathy into the other, or we find it without any such

¹From the Greek en—pathein, to read oneself into another person or situation.

²“What one has not in his head,” as the saying goes, “he must have in his legs.”

³The problem has been greatly confused by the general conditions determining the
comic, whereby the comic pleasure is seen to have its source now in a too-muchness
and now in a not-enoughness. Cf. Lipps, l.c. p. 47.

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WIT AND ITS RELATION TO THE UNCONSCIOUS
relation in our own psychic processes. The first case, in which the other
person still plays a part, though not in comparison with the ego, results
when the pleasure-
producing difference of cathexes expenditures comes
into existence through outer influences which we can comprehend as a
“situation,” for which reason this species of comic is also called the
“comic of the situation.” The peculiarities of the person who furnishes the
comic do not here come into essential consideration; we laugh when we
admit to ourselves that had we been placed in the same situation we
should have done the same thing. Here we draw the comic from the rela-
tion of the individual to the often all-
too-
powerful outer world, which is
represented in the psychic processes of the individual by the conventions
and necessities of society, and even by his bodily needs. A typical exam-
ple of the latter is when a person engaged in an activity, which claims all
his psychic forces, is suddenly disturbed by a pain or excremental need.
The opposite case which furnishes us the comic difference through em-
pathy, lies between the great interest which existed before the disturbance
occurred and the minimum left for his psychic activity after the disturb-
ance made its appearance. The person who furnishes us this difference
again becomes comical through inferiority; but he is only inferior in
comparison with his former ego and not in comparison with us, for we
know that in a similar case we could not have behaved differently. It is
remarkable, however, that we find this inferiority of the person only in
the case of empathy, that is, we can only find it comical in the other,
whereas we ourselves are conscious only of painful emotions when such or
similar embarrassments happen to us. By keeping away the painful from
our own person we are probably first enabled to enjoy as pleasurable that
difference which resulted from the comparison of the changing cathexes.

COMIC OF EXPECTATION

The other source of the comic, which we find in our own transformations
of cathexes, lies in our relations of the future, which we are accustomed to
anticipate through our ideas of expectation. I assume that a quantitatively
determined expenditure underlies our every idea of expectation, which in
case of disappointment underlies our every idea of expectation, which in
case of disappointment becomes diminished by a certain difference, and
I again refer to the observations made before concerning “ideational
mimicry.” But it seems to me easier to demonstrate the real mobilized
cathectic expenditure for the cases of expectation. It is well known con-
cerning a whole series of cases that the manifestation of expectation is
formed by motor preliminaries; this is first of all true of cases in which
the expected events make demands on my motility, and these preparations
are quantitatively determinable without anything further. If I am expect-
ing to catch a ball thrown at me, I put my body in states of tension in order
to enable me to withstand the collision with the ball, and the superfluous

775

motions which I make if the ball turns out to be light make me look com-
ical to the spectators. I allow myself to be misled by the expectation to
exert an immoderate expenditure of motion. A similar thing happens if,
for example, I lift out a basket of fruit which I took to be heavy but which
was hollow and formed out of wax in order to deceive me. By its upward
jerk my arm betrays the fact that I have prepared a superfluous innerva-
tion for this purpose and hence I am laughed at. In fact there is at least
one case in which the expectation expenditure can be directly demon-
strated by means of physiological experimentation with animals. In Pav-
lov’s experiments with salivary secretions of dogs who, provided with
salivary fistulæ, are shown different kinds of food, it is noticed that the
amount of saliva secreted through the fistulæ depends on whether the
conditions of the experiment have strengthened or disappointed the dogs’
expectation to be fed with the food shown them.

Even where the thing expected lays claims only to my sensory organs,
and not to my motility, I may assume that the expectation manifests itself
in a certain motor emanation causing tension of the senses, and I may
even conceive the suspension of attention as a motor activity which is
equivalent to a certain amount of expenditure. Moreover, I can presup-
pose that the preparatory activity of expectation is not independent of the
amount of the expected impression, but that I represent mimically the
bigness and smallness of the same by means of a greater or smaller pre-
paratory expenditure, just as in the case of imparting something and in
the case of thinking when there is no expectation. The expectation ex-
penditure naturally will be composed of many components, and also for
my disappointment diverse factors will come into consideration; it is not
only a question whether the realized event is perceptibly greater or
smaller than the expected one, but also whether the expectation is worthy
of the great interest which I had offered for it. In this manner I am in-
structed to consider, besides the expenditure for the representation of
bigness and smallness (the conceptual mimicry), also the expenditure for
the tension of attention (expectation expenditure), and in addition to
these two expenditures there is in all cases the abstraction expenditure.
But these other forms of expenditure can easily be reduced to the one of
bigness and smallness, for what we call more interesting, more sublime,
and even more abstract, are only particularly qualified special cases of
what is greater. Let us add to this that, among other things, Lipps holds
that the quantitative, not the qualitative, contrast is primarily the source
of comic pleasure, and we shall be altogether content to have chosen the
comic element of motion as the starting-point of our investigation.

In discussing Kant’s thesis, “The comic is an expectation dwindled into
nothing,” Lipps made the attempt in his book, often cited here, to trace
the comic pleasure altogether to expectation. Despite the many instruc-
 

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WIT AND ITS RELATION TO THE UNCONSCIOUS
tive and valuable results which this attempt brought to light, I should like
to agree with the criticism expressed by other authors, namely, that Lipps
has formulated a field of origin of the comic which is much too narrow,
and that he could not subject its phenomena to his formula without much
forcing.

CARICATURE

Human beings are not satisfied to enjoy the comic as they encounter it in
life, but they aim to produce it intentionally. Thus, we discover more of
the nature of the comic by studying the methods employed in producing
the comic. Above all one can produce comical elements in one’s person-
ality for the amusement of others, by making one’s self appear awkward
or stupid. One then produces the comic exactly as if one were really so,
by complying with the condition of comparison which leads to the dif-
ference of expenditure; but one does not make himself laughable or con-
temptible through this; indeed, under certain circumstances one can
even secure admiration. The feeling of superiority does not come into
existence in the other when he knows that the actor is only shamming,
and this furnishes us a good new proof that the comic is independent in
principle of the feeling of superiority.

To make someone else comical, the method most commonly employed
is to transfer him into situations wherein he becomes comical regardless
of his personal qualities, as a result of human dependence upon external
circumstances, especially social factors; in other words, some one resorts to
the comical situation. This transferring into a comic situation may be real
as in practical jokes, such as placing the foot in front of one so that he falls
like a clumsy person, or making some one appear stupid by utilizing his
credulity to make him believe some nonsense, etc., or it can be feigned by
means of speech or play. It is a good aid in aggression, in the service of
which, production of the comic is wont to place itself, in order that the
comic pleasure may be independent of the reality of the comic situation;
thus every person is really defenseless against being made comical.

But there are still other means of making one comical which deserve
special attention and which in part also show new sources of comic pleas-
ure. Imitation, for example, belongs here; it accords the hearer an ex-
traordinary amount of pleasure and makes its subject comical, even if it
still keeps away from the exaggeration of caricature. It is much easier to
fathom the comic effect of caricature than that of simple imitation. Cari-
cature, parody and travesty like their practical counterpart unmasking,
are directed against persons and objects who command authority and
respect and who are exalted in some sense. These are procedures which

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WIT AND THE VARIOUS FORMS OF THE COMIC

tend to degrade.¹⁾ In the transferred psychic sense, the exalted is equiva-
lent to something great and I want to make the statement, or more ac-
curately to repeat the statement, that psychic greatness like somatic great-
ness is exhibited by means of an increased expenditure. It needs little ob-
servation to ascertain that when I speak of the exalted I give a different
innervation to my voice, I change my facial expression, and attempt to
bring my entire bearing as it were into complete accord with the dignity
of that which I present. I impose upon myself a dignified restriction, not
much different than if I were coming into the presence of an illustrious
personage, monarch, or prince of science. I can scarcely err when I assume
that this added innervation of conceptual mimicry corresponds to an in-
creased expenditure. The third case of such an added expenditure I readily
find when I indulge in abstract trains of thought instead of in the concrete
and plastic ideas. If I can now imagine that the mentioned processes for
degrading the illustrious are quite ordinary, that during their activity I
need not be on my guard and in whose ideal presence I may, to use a
military formula, put myself “at ease,” all that saves me the added ex-
penditure of dignified restriction. Moreover, the comparison of this man-
ner of presentation instigated by empathy with the manner of presenta-
tion to which I have been hitherto accustomed, which seeks to present it-
self at the same time, again produces a difference in expenditure which can
be discharged through laughter.

As is known, caricature brings about the degradation by rendering
prominent one feature, comic in itself, from the entire picture of the
exalted object, a feature which would be overlooked if viewed with the
entire picture. Only by isolating this feature can the comic effect be ob-
tained which spreads in our memory over the whole picture. This has,
however, this condition; the presence of the exalted element must not
force us into a disposition of reverence. Where such a comical feature is
really lacking, caricature then unhesitatingly creates it by exaggerating
one that is not comical in itself. It is again characteristic of the origin of
comic pleasure that the effect of the caricature is not essentially impaired
through such a falsifying of reality.

UNMASKING

Parody and travesty accomplish the degradation of the exalted by other
means; they destroy the uniformity between the attributes of persons
familiar to us and their speech and actions; by replacing either the illus-
trious persons or their utterances by lowly ones. Therein they differ
from caricature, but not through the mechanism of the production of the

¹⁾Degradation: A. Bain (The Emotions and the Will, 2nd Ed., 1865) states: “The
occasion of the ludicrous is the degradation of some person of interest possessing dig-
nity, in circumstances that excite no other strong emotion” (p. 248).

778

comic pleasure. The same mechanism also holds true in unmasking,
which comes into consideration only where some one has attached to him-
self dignity and authority which in reality should be taken from him. We
have seen the comic effect of unmasking through several examples of wit,
for example, in the story of the fashionable lady who in her first labor-
pains cries: “Ah, mon Dieu!” but to whom the physician paid no atten-
tion until she screamed: “A-a-a-ai-e-e-e-e-e-E-E!” Being now ac-
quainted with the character of the comic, we can no longer dispute that
this story is really an example of comical unmasking and has no just claim
to the term witticism. It recalls wit only through the setting, through the
technical means of “representation through a trifle”; here it is the cry
which was found sufficient to indicate the point. The fact remains, how-
ever, that our feeling for the niceties of speech, when we call on it for
judgment, does not oppose calling such a story a witticism. We can find
the explanation for this in the reflection that usage of speech does not
enter scientifically into the nature of wit so far as we have evolved it by
means of this painstaking examination. As it is a function of the activi-
ties
of wit to reopen hidden sources of comic pleasure, every artifice which
does not bring to light the barefaced comic may in looser analogy be
called a witticism. This is especially true in the case of unmasking, though
in other methods of comic-making the appellation also holds good.¹⁾

In the mechanism of “unmasking” one can also utilize those processes
of comic-making already known to us which degrade the dignity of indi-
viduals by calling attention to one of the common human frailties, but
particularly to the dependence of his mental functions upon physical
needs. Unmasking them becomes equivalent to the reminder: This or that
one who is admired like a demigod is only a human being like you and me
after all. Moreover, all efforts in this mechanism serve to lay bare the
monotonous psychic automatism which is behind wealth and apparent
freedom of psychic achievements. We have become acquainted with ex-
amples of such “unmasking” through the marriage agent’s witticisms and
at
that time we felt doubt whether we could rightly count these stories as
wit. Now we can decide with more certainty that the anecdote of the echo
who reinforces all assertions of the marriage agent and in the end rein-
forces the latter’s admission that the bride has a hunchback with the ex-
clamation “And what a hunch!” is essentially a comic story, an example of
unmasking of the psychic automatism. But here the comic story serves
only as a façade; to any one who wishes to note the hidden meaning of
the marriage agent, the whole remains a splendidly put together piece of
wit. He who does not penetrate so far sees only the comic story. The same

¹⁾“Thus, every conscious and clever evocation of the comic is called wit, be it the
comic of views or situations. Naturally we cannot use this view of wit here.” Lipps,
l. c., p. 78.

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WIT AND THE VARIOUS FORMS OF THE COMIC

is true of the other witticism of the agent who, to refute an objection,
finally confirms the truth through the exclamation: “But who in the world
would lend them anything?” This is a comic unmasking which serves as a
façade for a witticism. Still the character of the wit is here quite evident,
as the speech of the agent is at the same time an expression through the
opposite. In trying to prove that the people are rich he proves at the same
time that they are not rich but very poor. Wit and the comic unite here
and teach us that a statement may be simultaneously witty and comical.

We eagerly grasp the opportunity to return from the comic of unmask-
ing to wit, for our real task is to explain the relation between wit and
comic and not to determine the nature of the comic. Hence to the case of
uncovering the psychic automatism, wherein our feeling left us in doubt
as to whether the matter was comical or witty, we add another, the case
of nonsense-wit, wherein likewise wit and the comic fuse. But our investi-
gation will ultimately show us that in this second case the meeting of wit
and comic may be theoretically deductable.

In the discussion of the techniques of wit we have found that giving
free play to such modes of thinking as are common in the unconscious,
which in consciousness are conceived only as “faulty thinking,” furnishes
the technical means of a great many witticisms. We had then doubted
their witty character and were inclined to classify them simply as comic
stories. We could come to no decision regarding our uncertainty because
in the first place the real character of wit was not familiar to us. Later we
found this character by following the analogy to the dream-work, as to
the compromise formed by the wit-work between the demands of the
rational critic and the impulse not to abandon the old word-pleasure and
nonsense-pleasure. What thus came into existence as a compromise, when
the foreconscious thought was left for a moment to unconscious elabora-
tion, satisfied both demands in all cases, but it presented itself to the
critic, in various forms and had to stand various criticisms from it. In one
case wit succeeded in surreptitiously assuming the form of an unimpor-
tant but none the less admissible proposition; a second time it smuggled
itself into the expression of a valuable thought. But within the outer limit
of the compromise activity it made no effort to satisfy the critic, and
defiantly utilizing the pleasure-sources at its disposal, it appeared before
the critic as pure nonsense. It had no fear of provoking contradiction
because it could rely on the fact that the hearer would decipher the dis-
tortion of the expression through the operation of his unconscious and
thus give back to it its meaning.

Now in what case will wit appear to the critic as nonsense? Particularly
when it makes use of those modes of thought, which are common in the
unconscious, but forbidden in conscious thought; that is, when it resorts
to faulty thinking. Some of the modes of thinking, of the unconscious,

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WIT AND ITS RELATION TO THE UNCONSCIOUS

have also been retained in conscious thinking, for example, many forms
of indirect expression, allusions, etc., even though their conscious use has
to be much restricted. Using these techniques, wit will arouse little or no
opposition on the part of the critic; but this only happens when it also
uses that technical means with which conscious thought no longer cares
to have anything to do. Wit can still further avoid offending, if it dis-
guises the faulty thinking by investing it with a semblance of logic as in
the story of the fancy cake and liqueur, salmon with mayonnaise, and
similar ones. But should it present the faulty thinking undisguised, the
critic is sure to protest.

THE MEETING OF WIT AND THE COMIC

In this case, something else comes to the aid of wit. The faulty thinking,
which as a form of thinking of the unconscious, wit utilizes for its tech-
nique, appears comical to the critic, although this is not necessarily the
case. The conscious giving of free play to the unconscious and to those
forms of thinking which are rejected as faulty, furnishes a means for the
production of comic pleasure. This can be easily understood, as a greater
expenditure is surely needed for the production of the foreconscious
cathexis than for the giving of free play to the unconscious. When we
hear the thought which is formed like one from the unconscious we com-
pare it to its correct form, and this results in a difference of expenditure
which gives origin to comic pleasure. A witticism which makes use of such
faulty thinking as its technique, and therefore appears absurd, can pro-
duce a comic impression at the same time. If we do not strike the trail of
the wit, there remains to us only the comic or funny story.

The story of the borrowed kettle, which showed a hole on being re-
turned, whereupon the borrower excused himself by stating that in the
first place he had not borrowed the kettle; secondly, that it already had a
hole when he borrowed it; and thirdly, that he had returned it intact with-
out any hole, is an excellent example of a purely comic effect through giv-
ing free play to one’s unconscious modes of thinking. Just this mutual neu-
tralization of several thoughts, each of which is well motivated in itself, is
the province of the unconscious. Corresponding to this, the dream in which
the unconscious thoughts become manifest, also shows an absence of either
—or.¹ These are expressed by putting the thoughts next to one another. In
that dream example given in my Interpretation of Dreams,² which in spite
of its complication I have chosen as a type of the work of interpretation, I
seek to rid myself of the reproach that I have not removed the pains of a
patient by psychic treatment. My arguments are: 1. she is herself to blame
for her illness, because she does not wish to accept my solution, 2. her

¹ At the most this is inserted by the dreamer as an explanation.
² l. c., pp. 195–207.

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WIT AND THE VARIOUS FORMS OF THE COMIC

pains are of organic origin, therefore none of my concern, 3. her pains
are connected with her widowhood, for which I am certainly not to blame,
4. her pains resulted from an injection with a dirty syringe, which was
given by another. All these motives follow one another just as though one
did not exclude the other. In order to escape the reproach that it was
nonsense I had to insert the words “either—or” instead of the “and” of
the dream.

A similar comical story is the one which tells of a blacksmith in a
Hungarian village who has committed a crime punishable by death; the
burgomaster, however, decreed that not the smith but a tailor was to be
hanged, as there were two tailors in the village but only one blacksmith,
and the crime had to be expiated. Such a displacement of guilt from one
person to another naturally contradicts all laws of conscious logic, but in
no ways the mental trends of the unconscious. I am in doubt whether to
call this story comic, and still I put the story of the kettle among the wit-
ticisms. Now I admit that it is far more correct to designate the latter as
comic rather than witty. But now I understand how it happens that my
feelings, usually so reliable, can leave me in the lurch as to whether this
story be comic or witty. The case in which I cannot come to a conclusion
through my feelings is the one in which the comic results through the un-
covering of modes of thought which exclusively belong to the unconscious.
A story of that kind can be comic and witty at the same time; but it will
impress me as being witty even if it be only comic, because the use of the
faulty thinking of the unconscious reminds me of wit, just as in the case
of the arrangements for the uncovering of the hidden comic discussed
before.

I must lay great stress upon making clear this most delicate point of my
analysis, namely, the relation of wit to the comic, and will therefore sup-
plement what has been said with some negative statements. First of all, I
call attention to the fact that the case of the meeting of wit and comic
treated here is not identical with the preceding one. I grant it is a fine
distinction, but it can be drawn with certainty. In the preceding case the
comic originated from the unmasking of the psychic automatism. This
is in no way peculiar to the unconscious alone and it does not at all play a
conspicuous part in the technique of wit. Unmasking appears only acci-
dentally in relation to wit, in that it serves another technique of wit,
namely, representation through the opposite. But in the case of giving free
play to unconscious ways of thinking the union of wit and comic is an
essential one, because the same method which is used by the first person
in wit as the technique of releasing pleasure, will naturally produce comic
pleasure in the third person.

We might be tempted to generalize this last case and seek the relation
of wit to the comic in the fact that the effect of wit upon the third person

782

follows the mechanism of comic pleasure. But there is no question about
that; contact with the comic is not in any way found in all nor even in most
witticisms; in most cases wit and the comic can be cleanly separated. As
often as wit succeeds in escaping the appearance of absurdity, which is to
say in most witticisms of double meaning or of allusion, one cannot dis-
cover any effect in the hearer resembling the comic. One can make the
test with examples previously cited or with some new ones given here.

Congratulatory telegram to be sent to a gambler on his 70th birthday:
“Trente et quarante”¹⁾ (word-division with allusion).

Madame de Maintenant (modifica-
tion of a name).

We might further believe that at least all jokes with nonsense façades
appear comical and must impress us as such. But I recall here the fact
that such witticisms often have a different effect on the hearer, calling
forth confusion and a tendency to rejection (see footnote, p. 212). There-
fore, it evidently depends on whether the nonsense of the wit appears
comical or common plain nonsense, and the conditions for this we have
not yet investigated. Accordingly, we hold to the conclusion that wit, judg-
ing by its nature, can be separated from the comic, and that it unites with
it on the one hand, only in certain special cases, on the other in the
tendency to gain pleasure from intellectual sources.

In the course of these examinations concerning the relations of wit and
the comic there revealed itself to us that distinction which we must em-
phasize as most significant, and which at the same time points to a psycho-
logically important characteristic of the comic. We had to transfer to the
unconscious the source of wit-pleasure; there is no occasion which can be
discovered for the same localization of the comic. On the contrary, all
analyses which we have made thus far indicate that the source of comic
pleasure lies in the comparison of two expenditures, both of which we
must adjudge to the foreconscious. Wit and the comic can above all be
differentiated in the psychic localization; wit is, so to speak, the contri-
bution to the comic from the sphere of the unconscious.

COMIC OF IMITATION

We need not blame ourselves for digressing from the subject, for the rela-
tion of wit to the comic really furnished the occasion which impelled us
to examine the comic. But it is time for us to return to the point under
discussion, to the treatment of the means which serve to produce the
comic. We have advanced the discussion of caricature and unmasking,
because from both of them we can borrow several points of similarity for
the analysis of the comic of imitation. Imitation is mostly replaced by
caricature, which is an exaggeration of certain otherwise not striking

¹⁾“Trente et quarante” is a gambling game.

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WIT AND THE VARIOUS FORMS OF THE COMIC

traits, and also bears the character of degradation. Still this does not seem
to exhaust the nature of imitation; it is incontestable that in itself it
represents an extraordinary rich source of comic pleasure, for we laugh
particularly over faithful imitations. It is not easy to give a satisfactory
explanation of this if we do not accept Bergson’s view,¹ according to
which the comic of imitation is put next to the comic produced by un-
masking the psychic automatism. Bergson believes that everything gives
a comic impression which manifests itself in the shape of a machine-like
inanimate movement in the human being. His law is that “the attitudes,
gestures, and movements of the human body are laughable in exact pro-
portion as that body reminds us of a mere machine.” He explains the
comic of imitation by connecting it with a problem formulated by Pascal
in his Thoughts, why is it that we laugh at the comparison of two faces
that are alike although neither of them excites laughter by itself. “The
truth is that a really living life should never repeat itself. Wherever there
is repetition or complete similarity, we always suspect some mechanism
at work behind the living.” Analyze the impression you get from two faces
that are too much alike, and you will find that you are thinking of two
copies cast in the same mould, or two impressions of the same soul, or two
reproductions of the same negative—in a word, of some manufacturing
process or other. This deflection of life towards the mechanical is here the
real cause of laughter. We might say it is the degradation of the human
to the mechanical or inanimate. If we accept these winning arguments of
Bergson, it is moreover not difficult to subject his view to our own
formula. Taught by experience that every living being is different, and
demands a definite amount of expenditure from our understanding, we
find ourselves disappointed when, as a result of a perfect agreement or
deceptive imitation, we need no new expenditure. But we are disappointed
in the sense of being relieved, and the expenditure of expectation which
has become superfluous is discharged through laughter. The same formula
will also cover all cases of comic rigidity considered by Bergson, such as
professional habits, fixed ideas, and modes of expression which are re-
peated on every occasion. All these cases aim to compare the expenditure
of expectation with what is commonly required for the understanding,
whereby the greater expectation depends on observation of individual
variety and human plasticity. Hence in imitation the source of comic
pleasure is not the comic of situation but that of expectation.

As we trace the comic pleasure in general to comparison, it is incumbent
upon us to investigate also the comic element of comparison itself, which
likewise serves as a means of producing the comic. Our interest in this
question will be enhanced when we recall that in the case of comparison

¹Bergson: Le Rire, essai sur la signification du comique.

184

the “feeling” as to whether something was to be
classed as witty or merely comical often left us in the lurch.

The subject really deserves more attention than we can bestow upon it.
The main quality for which we ask in comparison is whether it is perti-
nent, that is, whether it really calls our attention to an existing agreement
between two different objects. The original pleasure in refinding the same
thing (Groos), is not the only motive which favors the use of comparison.
Besides this there is the fact that comparison is capable of a utilization
which facilitates intellectual work; when for example, as is usually the
case, one compares the less familiar to the more familiar, the abstract to
the concrete, and explains through this comparison the more strange and
the more difficult objects. With every such comparison, especially of the
abstract to the concrete, there is a certain degradation and a certain
economy in abstraction expenditure (in the sense of a conceptual mimi-
cry), yet this naturally does not suffice to render prominent the character
of the comic. The latter does not emerge suddenly from the freed pleasure
of the comparison but comes gradually; there are many cases which only
touch the comic, in which one might doubt whether they show the comic
character. The comparison undoubtedly becomes comical when the niveau
difference of the expenditure of abstraction between the two things com-
pared becomes increased, if something serious and strange, especially of
intellectual or moral nature is compared to something banal and lowly.
The former release of pleasure and the contribution from the conditions
of conceptual mimicry may perhaps explain the gradual change—which is
determined by quantitative relations—from the universally pleasurable
to the comic, which takes place during the comparison. I am certainly
avoiding misunderstandings by emphasizing that I deduce the comic
pleasure in the comparison, not from the contrast of the two things com-
pared but from the difference of the two abstraction expenditures. The
strange which is difficult to grasp, the abstract and really intellectually
sublime, through its alleged agreement with a familiar lowly one, in the
imagination of which every abstraction expenditure disappears, is now
itself unmasked as something equally lowly. The comic of comparison
thus becomes reduced to a case of degradation.

The comparison, as we have seen above, can now be witty without a
trace of comic admixture, especially when it happens to evade the degra-
dation. Thus the comparison of Truth to a torch, which one cannot carry
through a crowd without singeing somebody’s beard, is pure wit, because
it takes an obsolete expression (“The torch of truth”) at its full value
and not at all in a comical sense, and because the torch as an object does
not lack a certain distinction, though it is a concrete object. However, a
comparison may just as well be witty as comic, and what is more, one may
be independent of the other, in that the comparison becomes an aid for

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WIT AND THE VARIOUS FORMS OF THE COMIC

certain techniques of wit, as, for example, unification or allusion. Thus
Nestroy’s above mentioned comparison of memory to a “Warehouse,” is
simultaneously comical and witty, first, on account of the extraordinary
degradation to which the psychological conception must consent in the
comparison to a “Warehouse,” and secondly, because he who utilizes the
comparison is a clerk, and in this comparison he establishes a rather un-
expected unification between psychology and his vocation. Heine’s verse,
“until at last the buttons tore from the pants of my patience,” seems at
first an excellent example of a comic degrading comparison, but on closer
reflection we must ascribe to it also the attribute of wittiness, since the
comparison as a means of allusion strikes into the realm of the obscene
and causes a release of pleasure from the obscene. Through a union not
altogether incidental the same material also gives us a resultant pleasure
which is at the same time comical and witty; it does not matter whether
or not the conditions of the one promote the origin of the other, such a
union acts confusingly on the “feeling” whose function it is to announce
to us whether we have before us wit or the comic, and only a careful ex-
amination independent of the disposition of pleasure can decide the
question.

As tempting as it would be to trace these more intimate determinations
of comic pleasure, the author must remember that neither his previous
education nor his daily vocation justifies him in extending his investiga-
tions beyond the spheres of wit, and he must confess that it is precisely
the subject of comic comparison which makes him feel his incompetence.
We are quite willing to be reminded that many authors do not recog-
nize the clear notional and objective distinction between wit and comic,
as we were impelled to do, and that they classify wit merely as “the comic
of speech” or “of words.” To test this view let us select one example of
intentional and one of involuntary comic of speech and compare it with
wit. We have already mentioned before that we are in a good position to
distinguish comic from witty speech. “With a fork and with effort, his
mother pulled him out of the mess,” is only comical, but Heine’s verse
about the four castes of the population of Göttingen: “Professors, stu-
dents, Philistines, and cattle,” is exquisitely witty.

As an example of the intentional comic of speech I will take as a model
Stettenheim’s Wippchen. We call Stettenheim witty because he possesses
the cleverness that evokes the comic. The wit which one “has,” in con-
tradistinction to the wit which one “makes,” is indeed correctly condi-
tioned by this ability. It is true that the letters of Wippchen are also
witty in so far as they are interspersed with a rich collection of all sorts of
witticisms, some of which very successful ones (as “festively undressed”
when he speaks of a parade of savages), but what lends the peculiar
character to these productions is not these isolated witticisms, but the

786

WIT AND ITS RELATION TO THE UNCONSCIOUS
superabundant flow of comic speech contained therein. Originally Wipp
chen was certainly meant to represent a satirical character, a modification
of Freytag’s Schmock, one of those uneducated persons who trade in the
educational treasure of the nation and abuse it; but the pleasure in the
comic effect experienced in representing this person seems gradually to
have pushed to the background the author’s satirical tendency. Wipp
chen’s productions are for the most part “comic nonsense.” The author
has justly utilized the pleasant mood resulting from the accumulation of
such achievements to present beside the altogether admissible material,
all sorts of absurdities which would be intolerable in themselves. Wipp
chen’s nonsense appears to be of a specific nature only on account of its
special technique. If we look closer into some of these “witticisms,” we
find that some forms which have impressed their character on the whole
production are especially conspicuous. Wippchen makes use mostly of
compositions (fusions), of modifications of familiar expressions and quo-
tations. He replaces some of the banal elements in these expressions by
others which are usually more pretentious and more valuable. This nat-
urally comes near to the techniques of wit.

THE COMIC OF SPEECH

Some of the fusions taken from the preface and the first pages are the
following: “Turkey’s money is like the hay of the sea.” This is only a
condensation of the two expressions, “Money like hay,” “Money like the
sands of the sea.” Or: “I am nothing but a leafless pillar which tells of a
vanished splendor,” which is a fusion of “leafless trunk” and “a pillar
which, etc.” Or: “Where is Ariadne’s thread which leads out of the Scylla
of this Augean stable?”, for which three different Greek myths contribute
an element each.

The modifications and substitutions can be treated collectively without
much forcing; their character can be seen from the following examples
which are peculiar to Wippchen, they are regularly permeated by a dif-
ferent wording which is more fluent, most banal, and reduced to mere
platitudes.

“To hang my paper and ink high.” The saying: “To hang one’s bread-
basket high,” expresses metaphorically the idea of placing one under
difficult conditions. But why not stretch this figure to other material?
“Already in my youth Pegasus was alive in me.” When the word
“Pegasus” is replaced by “the poet,” one can recognize it as an expression
often used in autobiographies. Naturally “Pegasus” is not the proper
word to replace the words “the poet,” but it has thought associations to it
and is a high-sounding word.

From Wippchen’s other numerous productions some examples can be
shown which present the pure comic. As an example of comic disillusion-

787

ment the following can be cited: “For hours the battle raged, finally it
remained undecisive”; an example of comical unmasking (of ignorance)
is the following: “Clio, the Medusa of history,” or quotations like the
following: “Habent sua fata morgana.” But our interest is aroused more
by the fusions and modifications because they recall familiar techniques
of wit. We may compare them to such modification witticisms as the fol-
lowing: “He has a great future behind him,” and Lichtenberg’s modifica-
tion witticisms such as: “New baths heal well,” etc. Should Wippchen’s
productions having the same technique be called witticisms, or what dis-
tinguishes them from the latter?

It is surely not difficult to answer this. Let us remember that wit pre-
sents to the hearer a double face, and forces him to two different views. In
nonsense-wit as those mentioned last, one view, which considers only the
wording, states that they are nonsense; the other view, which, in obedi-
ence to suggestion, follows the road that leads through the hearer’s
unconscious, finds very good sense in these witticisms. In Wippchen’s wit-
like productions one of these views of wit is vacant, as if stunted. It is a
Janus head with only one countenance developed. One would get nowhere
should he be tempted to proceed by means of this technique to the un-
conscious. The condensations lead to no case in which the two fused ele-
ments really result in a new sense; they fall to pieces when an attempt is
made to analyze them. As in wit, the modifications and substitutions lead
to a customary and familiar wording, but they themselves tell us little
else, as a rule nothing that is of any possible use. Hence, the only thing
that remains to these “witticisms” is the nonsense view. Whether such
productions, which have freed themselves from one of the most essential
characters of wit, should be called “bad” wit or no wit at all, every one
must decide as he feels inclined.

There is no doubt that such stunted wit produces a comic effect for
which we can account in more than one way. Either the comic originates
through the uncovering of the unconscious modes of thinking in a manner
similar to the cases considered above, or the wit originates by comparison
with perfect wit. Nothing prevents us from assuming that we here deal
with a union of both modes of origin of the comic pleasure. It is not to be
denied that it is precisely the inadequate dependence on wit which here
shapes the nonsense into comic nonsense.

COMIC OF INADEQUACY

There are, of course, other quite apparent cases, in which such inadequacy
produced by the comparison with wit, makes the nonsense irresistibly
comic. The counterpart to wit, the riddle, can perhaps give us better ex-
amples for this than wit itself. A facetious question states: What is this:
It hangs on the wall and one can dry his hands on it? It would be a foolish

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WIT AND ITS RELATION TO THE UNCONSCIOUS
riddle if the answer were: a towel. On the contrary this answer is rejected
with the statement: No, it is a herring,—“But, for mercy’s sake,” is the
objection, “a herring does not hang on the wall.”—“But you can hang it
there,”—“But who wants to dry his hands on a herring?”—“Well,” is the
soft answer, “you don’t have to.” This explanation given through two
typical displacements shows how much this question lacks of being a real
riddle, and because of this absolute insufficiency it impresses one as ir-
resistibly comic, rather than mere nonsensical foolishness. Through such
means, that is, by not restricting essential conditions, wit, riddles, and
other forms, which in themselves produce no comic pleasure, can be made
into sources of comic pleasure.

It is not so difficult to understand the case of the unvoluntary comic of
speech which we can perhaps find realized with as much frequency as we
like in the poems of Frederika Kempner.¹

ANTI-VIVISECTION

Fraternal sentiment should urge us
To champion the guinea-
pig,
For has it not a soul like ours,
Although most likely not as big?

Or a conversation between a loving couple.

THE CONTRAST

The young wife whispers “I’m so happy,”
“And I!” chimes in her husband’s voice,
“Because your virtues, dearest help-
mate,
Reveal the wisdom of my choice.”

There is nothing here which makes one think of wit. Doubtless, how-
ever, it is the inadequacy of these “poetic productions,” as the very ex-
traordinary clumsiness of the expressions which recall the most common-
place or newspaper style, the ingenious poverty of thoughts, the absence
of every trace of poetic manner of thinking or speaking—it is all these
inadequacies which make these poems comic. Nevertheless, it is not at all
self-
evident that we should find these poems comical; many similar pro-
ductions we merely consider very bad, we do not laugh at them but are
rather vexed with them. But here it is the great disparity in our demand
of a poem which impels us to the comic conception; where this difference
is less, we are inclined to criticise rather than laugh. The comic effect of
Kempner’s poetic productions is furthermore assured by the additional
circumstances of the lady author’s unmistakably good intentions, and by
the fact that her helpless phrases disarm our feeling of mockery and

¹Sixth Ed., Berlin, 1801.

789

anger. We are now reminded of a problem the consideration of which we
have so far postponed. The difference of expenditure is surely the main
condition of the comic pleasure, but observation teaches that such differ-
ence does not always produce pleasure. What other conditions must be
added, or what disturbances must be checked in order that pleasure should
result from the difference of expenditure? But before proceeding with the
answers to these questions we wish to verify what was said in the conclu-
sions of the former discussion, namely, that the comic of speech is not
synonymous with wit, and that wit must be something quite different
from speech comic.

As we are about to attack the problem just formulated, concerning the
conditions of the origin of comic pleasure from the difference of ex-
penditure, we may permit ourselves to facilitate this task so as to attain
for ourselves some pleasure. To give a correct answer to this question
would amount to an exhaustive presentation of the nature of the comic
for which we are fitted neither by ability nor authority. We shall therefore
again be content to elucidate the problem of the comic only so far as it
distinctly separates itself from wit.

All theories of the comic were objected to by the critics on the ground
that in defining the comic these theories overlooked the essential element
of it. This can be seen from the following theories, with their objections.
The comic depends on a contrasting idea; yes, in so far as this contrast
affects one comically and in no other way. The feeling of the comic results
from the dwindling away of an expectation; yes, if the disappointment
does not prove to be painful. There is no doubt that these objections are
justified, but they are overestimated if one concludes from them that the
essential characteristic mark of the comic has hitherto escaped our con-
ception. What depreciates the general validity of these definitions, are
conditions, which are indispensable for the origin of the comic pleasure,
but in which one must not necessarily search for the nature of comic pleas-
ure. The rejection of the objections, and the explanations of the contra-
dictions to the definitions of the comic, will become easy for us, only after
we trace back comic pleasure to the difference resulting from a compari-
son of two expenditures. Comic pleasure and the effect by which it is
recognized–laughter, can originate only when this difference is no longer
utilizable and when it is capable of discharge. We gain no pleasurable
effect, or at most only a flighty feeling of pleasure in which the comic
does not appear, if the difference is put to other use as soon as it is recog-
nized. Just as special precautions must be taken in wit, in order to guard
against making new use of expenditure recognized as superfluous, so also
can comic pleasure originate only under relations which fulfill this latter
condition. The cases in which such differences of expenditure originate in

790

our ideational life are therefore uncommonly numerous, while the cases in
which the comic originates from them are comparatively very rare.

THE CONDITIONS OF ISOLATION OF THE COMIC

Two observations obtrude themselves upon the observer who reviews
even only superficially the origin of comic pleasure from the difference of
expenditure; first, that there are cases in which the comic appears regu-
larly and as if necessarily; and, in contrast to these cases, others in which
this depends on the conditions of the case and on the viewpoint of the
observer. But secondly, that unusually large differences very often tri-
umph over unfavorable conditions, so that the comic feeling originates in
spite of it. In reference to the first point one may set up two classes, the
inevitable comic and the accidental comic, although one will have to be
prepared from the beginning to find exceptions in the first class to the
inevitableness of the comic. It would be tempting to follow the conditions
which are essential to each class.

What is important in the second class are the conditions, of which one
may be designated as the “isolation” of the comic case. A closer analysis
reveals something like the following relations:

a) The favorable condition for the origin of comic pleasure is brought
about by a general happy disposition in which “one is in the mood for
laughing.” In happy toxic states almost everything seems comic, which
probably results from a comparison with the expenditure in normal condi-
tions. For wit, the comic, and all similar methods of gaining pleasure
from the psychic activities, are nothing but ways to regain this happy
state—euphoria—from one single point, when it does not exist as a
general disposition of the psyche.

b) A similar favorable condition is produced by the expectation of the
comic or by putting one’s self in the right mood for comic pleasure. Hence
when the intention to make things comical exists and when this feeling is
shared by others, the differences required are so slight that they probably
would have been overlooked had they been experienced in unpremedi-
tated occurrences. He who decides to attend a comic lecture or a farce at
the theater is indebted to this intention for laughing over things which in
his everyday life would hardly produce in him a comic effect. He finally
laughs at the recollection of having laughed, at the expectation of laugh-
ing, and at the appearance of the one who is to present the comic, even
before the latter makes the attempt to make him laugh. It is for this
reason that people later admit that they are ashamed of that which made
them laugh at the theater.

c) Unfavorable conditions for the comic result from the kind of
psychic activity which may occupy the individual at the moment. Imagi-
native or mental activity tending towards serious aims disturbs the dis-

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WIT AND THE VARIOUS FORMS OF THE COMIC
charging capacity of the cathexis which the activity needs for its own
displacements, so that only unexpected and great differences of expendi-
ture can break through to form comic pleasure. All manner of mental
processes far enough removed from the obvious to cause a suspension of
ideational mimicry are unfavorable to the comic; in abstract contempla-
tion there is hardly any room left for the comic, except when this form of
thinking is suddenly interrupted.

d) The occasion for releasing comic pleasure vanishes when the atten-
tion is directly fixed on the comparison which is capable of giving rise to
the comic. Under such circumstances the comic force is lost from that
which is otherwise sure to produce a comic effect. A movement or a mental
activity cannot become comical to him whose interest is fixed at the time
of comparing this movement with a standard which distinctly presents
itself to him. Thus the examiner does not see the comical in the nonsense
produced by the student in his ignorance; he is simply annoyed by it,
whereas the offender’s classmates who are more interested in his chances
of passing the examination than in what he knows, laugh heartily over the
same nonsense. The teacher of dancing or gymnastics seldom has any
eyes for the comic movements of his pupils, and the preacher entirely
loses sight of humanity’s defects of character, which the writer of comedy
brings out with so much effect. The comic process cannot stand examina-
tion by the attention, but it must be able to proceed absolutely unnoticed in a
manner similar to wit. But for good reasons, it would contradict the
nomenclature of “conscious processes” which I have used in The Inter-
pretation of Dreams, if one wished to call it of necessity unconscious. It
rather belongs to the foreconscious, and one may use the fitting name
“automatic” for all those processes which are enacted in the forecon-
scious, and dispense with the attention cathexis which is connected with
consciousness. The process of comparison of the expenditures must re-
main automatic if it is to produce comic pleasure.

e) It is exceedingly disturbing to the comic if the case from which it
originates gives rise at the same time to a marked release of affect. The
discharge of the affective difference is then as a rule excluded. Affects,
disposition, and the attitude of the individual in occasional cases make it
clear that the comic comes or goes with the viewpoint of the individual
person; that only in exceptional cases is there an absolute comic. The
dependence or relativity of the comic is therefore much greater than that
of wit, which never happens but is regularly made, and at its production
one may already give attention to the conditions under which it finds ac-
ceptance. But affective development is the most intensive of the condi- tions which disturb the comic, the significance of which is well known.¹
It is, therefore, said that the comic feeling comes most in tolerably indif-
¹ “You may well laugh, that no longer concerns you.”

792

ferent cases which evince no strong feelings or interests. Nevertheless, it
is just in cases with affective release that one may witness the production
of a particularly strong expenditure-
difference in the automatism of dis-
charge. When Colonel Butler answers Octavio’s admonitions with “bitter
laughter,” exclaiming:

“Thanks from the house of Austria!”

his bitterness has thus not prevented the laughter which results from the
recollection of the disappointment which he believes he has experienced;
and on the other hand, the magnitude of this disappointment could not
have been more impressively depicted by the poet than by showing it
capable of effecting laughter in the midst of the storm of unchained af-
fects. It is my belief that this explanation may be applicable in all cases
in which laughing occurs on other than pleasurable occasions, and in
conjunction with exceedingly painful or tense affects.
f) If we also mention that the development of the comic pleasure can
be promoted by means of any other pleasurable addition to the case which
acts like a sort of contact-
effect (after the manner of the fore-
pleasure
principle in the tendency-
wit), then we have discussed surely not all the
conditions of comic pleasure, yet enough of them to serve our purpose.
We then see that for these conditions, as well as for the inconstancy and
dependence of the comic effect, no other assumption so easily lends itself
as this one which traces the comic pleasure from the discharge of a dif-
ference, which under many conditions can be diverted to a different use
than discharge.
It still remains to give a thorough consideration of the comic of the
sexual and the obscene, but we shall only skim over it with a few observa-
tions. Here, too, we shall take the act of exposing one’s body as the
starting-
point. An accidental exposure produces a comical effect on us,
because we compare the ease with which we attained the enjoyment of
this view with the great expenditure otherwise necessary for the attain-
ment of this object. The case thus comes nearer to the naïve-
comic, but it
is simpler than the latter. In every case of exhibitionism in which we are
made spectators—or, in the case of the smutty joke hearers—we play
the part of the third person, and the person exposed is made comical. We
have heard that it is the purpose of wit to replace obscenity and in this
manner to reopen an exposure, forms no example of the comic for the
contrary, spying out an exposure, forms no example of the comic for the
one spying, because the effort he exerts thereby abrogates the condition
of comic pleasure; the only thing remaining is the sexual pleasure in what
is seen. If the peeper relates to another what he has seen, the person looked
at again becomes comical, because the viewpoint that predominates is
that the expenditure was omitted which would have been necessary for

793

the concealment of the private parts. At all events, the sphere of the
sexual or obscene offers the richest opportunities for gaining comic pleas-
ure beside the pleasurable sexual stimulation, as it exposes the person’s
dependence on his physical needs (degradation) or it can uncover behind
the spiritual love the physical demands of the same (unmasking).

THE PSYCHOGENESIS OF THE COMIC

An invitation to seek the understanding of the comic in its psychogenesis
comes surprisingly from Bergson’s well written and stimulating book
Laughter. Bergson, whose formula for the conception of the comic char-
acter has already become known to us—“mechanization of life,” “the
substitution of something mechanical for the natural”—reaches by ob-
vious associations from automatism to the automaton, and seeks to trace
a series of comic effects to the blurred memories of children’s toys. In this
connection he reaches this viewpoint, which, to be sure, he soon drops; he
seeks to trace the comic to the after-effect of childish pleasure. “Perhaps
we ought even to carry simplification still further, and, going back to our
earliest recollection, try to discover in the games that amused us as chil-
dren the first faint traces of the combinations that make us laugh as
grown-up persons.” … “Above all, we are too apt to ignore the child-
ish element, so to speak, latent in most of our joyful emotions” (p. 67).
As we have now traced wit to that childish playing with words and
thoughts which is prohibited by the rational critic, we must be tempted
to trace also these infantile roots of the comic, conjectured by Bergson.

As a matter of fact we meet a whole series of conditions which seem
most promising, when we examine the relation of the comic to the child.
The child itself does not by any means seem comic to us, although its
character fulfills all conditions which, in comparison to our own, would
result in a comic difference. Thus we see the immoderate expenditure
of motion as well as the slight psychic expenditure, the control of the
psychic activities through bodily functions, and other features. The child
gives us a comic impression only when it does not behave as a child but
as an earnest grown-up, and even then it affects us only in the same man-
ner as other persons in disguise; but as long as it retains the nature of the
child our perception of it furnishes us a pure pleasure, which perhaps
recalls the comic. We call it naïve in so far as it displays to us the absence
of inhibitions, and we call naïve-comic those of its utterances which in
another we would have considered obscene or witty.

On the other hand the child lacks all feeling for the comic. This sen-
tence seems to say no more than that this comic feeling, like many others,
first makes its appearance in the course of psychic development; and that
would by no means be remarkable, especially since we must admit that it
shows itself distinctly even during years which must be accredited to

794

childhood. Nevertheless it can be 
demonstrated that the assertion that 
the child lacks feeling for the comic has a deeper meaning than one would 
suppose. In the first place it will readily be seen that it cannot be differ-
ent, if our conception is correct, that the comic feeling results from a dif-
ference of expenditure produced in the effort to understand the other. Let 
us again take comic motion as an example. The comparison which fur-
nishes the difference reads as follows, when put in conscious formulæ: 
“So he does it,” and: “So I would do it,” or “So I have done it.” But the 
child lacks the standard contained in the second sentence, it understands 
simply through imitation; it just does it. Education of the child furnishes 
it with the standard: “So you shall do it,” and if it now makes use of the 
same in comparisons, the nearest conclusion is: “He has not done it right, 
and I can do it better.” In this case it laughs at the other, it laughs at him 
with a feeling of superiority. There is nothing to prevent us from tracing 
this laughter also to a difference of expenditure; but according to the 
analogy with the examples of laughter occurring in us we may conclude 
that the comic feeling is not experienced by the child when it laughs as 
an expression of superiority. It is a laughter of pure pleasure. In our own 
case whenever the judgment of our own superiority occurs we smile 
rather than laugh, or if we laugh, we are still able to distinguish clearly 
this conscious realization of our superiority from the comic which makes 
us laugh.

It is probably correct to say that in many cases which we perceive as 
“comical” and which we cannot explain, the child laughs out of pure 
pleasure, whereas the child’s motives are clear and assignable. If for in-
stance, some one slips on the street and falls, we laugh because this im-
pression—we know not why—is comical. The child laughs in the same 
case out of a feeling of superiority or out of joy over the calamity of others. 
It amounts to saying: “You fell, but I did not.” Certain pleasure motives 
of the child seem to be lost for us grown-ups, but as a substitute for these 
we perceive under the same conditions the “comic” feeling.

THE INFANTILE AND THE COMIC

If we were permitted to generalize, it would seem very tempting to trans-
fer the desired specific character of the comic into the awakening of the 
infantile, and to conceive the comic as a regaining of “lost infantile laugh-
ter.” One could then say, “I laugh every time over a difference of expendi-
ture between the other and myself, when I discover in the other the child.” 
Or expressed more precisely, the whole comparison leading to the comic 
would read as follows:

“He does it this way—I do it differently—
He does it just as I did when I was a child.”

795

WIT AND THE VARIOUS FORMS OF THE COMIC

This laughter would thus result every time from the comparison
between the ego of the grown-up and the ego of the child. The uncertainty
itself of the comic difference, causing now the lesser and now the greater
expenditure to appear comical to me, would correspond to the infantile
condition; the comic therein is actually always on the side of the infantile.

This is not contradicted by the fact that the child itself as an object of
comparison does not make a comic impression on me but a purely pleasur-
able one, nor by the fact that this comparison with the infantile produces
a comic effect only when any other use of the difference is avoided. For
the conditions of the discharge come thereby into consideration. Every-
thing that confines a psychic process in an association of ideas works
against the discharge of the surplus cathexis and directs the same to other
utilization; whatever isolates a psychic act favors the discharge. By con-
sciously focussing on the child as the person of comparison, the discharge
necessary for the production of comic pleasure therefore becomes impos-
sible; only in foreconscious energetic states is there a similar approach to
the isolation which we may moreover also ascribe to the psychic processes
in the child. The addition to the comparison: “Thus, I have also done it
as a child,” from which the comic effect would emanate, could come into
consideration for the average difference only when no other association
could obtain control over the freed surplus.

If we still continue with our attempt to find the nature of the comic
in the foreconscious association of the infantile, we have to go a step fur-
ther than Bergson and admit that the comparison resulting in the comic,
need not necessarily awake old childish pleasure and play, but that it is
enough if it touches the childish nature in general, perhaps even childish
pain. Herein we deviate from Bergson, but remain consistent with our-
selves, when we connect the comic pleasure not with remembered pleasure
but always with a comparison. This is possible, for cases of the first kind
comprise in a measure those which are regularly and irresistibly comic.
Let us now draw up the scheme of the comic possibilities instanced above.

We stated that the comic difference would be found either
(a) through a comparison between the other and one’s self, or (b)
through a comparison altogether within the other, or (c) through a com-
parison altogether within one’s self.

In the first case the other would appear to me as a child, in the second
he would put himself on the level of a child, and in the third I would find
the child in myself. To the first class belong the comic of movement, of
forms, of psychic activity, and of character. The infantile corresponding
to it would be the urge for motion and the inferior mental and moral de-
velopment of the child, so that the fool would perhaps become comical
to me by reminding me of a lazy child, and the bad person by reminding
me of a naughty child. The only time one might speak of a childish pleas-
 

796

ure lost to grown-ups would be where the child’s own motion pleasure
came into consideration.

The second case, in which the comic altogether depends on empathy,
comprises numerous possibilities such as the comic situation, exaggera-
tion (caricature), imitation, degradation, and unmasking. It is under this
head that the presentation of infantile viewpoints mostly takes place. For
the comic situation is largely based on embarrassment, in which we feel
again the helplessness of the child. The worst of these embarrassments,
the disturbance of other activities through the imperative demands of
natural wants, corresponds to the child’s lack of control of the physical
functions. Where the comic situation acts through repetitions it is based
on the pleasure of constant repetition peculiar to the child (asking ques-
tions, telling stories), through which it makes itself a nuisance to grown-
ups. Exaggeration, which also affords pleasure even to the grown-up in
so far as it is justified by his reason, corresponds to the characteristic
want of moderation in the child, and its ignorance of all quantitative
relations which it later really learns to know as qualitative. To keep
within bounds, to practice moderation even in permissible feelings is a
late fruit of education, and is gained through opposing inhibitions of the
psychic activity acquired in the same association. Wherever this associ-
ation is weakened, as in the unconscious of dreams and in the mono-ide-
ation of the psychoneuroses, the want of moderation of the child again
makes its appearance.

The understanding of comic imitation has caused us many difficulties
so long as we left out of consideration the infantile factor. But imitation
is the child’s best art and is the impelling motive of most of its playing.
The child’s ambition is not so much to distinguish himself among his
equals as to imitate the big fellows. The relation of the child to the
grown-up determines also the comic of degradation, which corresponds to
the lowering of the grown-up in the life of the child. Few things can afford
the child greater pleasure than when the grown-up lowers himself to his
level, disregards his superiority, and plays with the child as its equal.
The alleviation which furnishes the child pure pleasure is a debasement
used by the adult as a means of making things comic and as a source of
comic pleasure. As for unmasking, we know that it is based on degrada-
tion.

The infantile determination of the third case, the comic of expectation,
presents most of the difficulties; this really explains why those authors
who put this case to the foreground in their conception of the comic, found
no occasion to consider the infantile factor in their studies of the comic.
The comic of expectation is farthest from the child’s thoughts, the ability
to understand this is the latest quality to appear in him. Most of those
cases which produce a comic effect in the grown-up are probably felt by

797

the child as a disappointment. One can refer, however, to the blissful ex-
pectation and gullibility of the child, in order to understand why one con-
siders himself as comical “as a child,” when he succumbs to comic dis-
appointment.

If the preceding remarks produce a certain probability that the comic
feeling may be translated into the thought that everything is comic which
does not fit the grown-up, I still do not feel bold enough—in view of my
whole position to the problem of the comic—to defend this last propo-
sition with the same earnestness as those that I formulated before. I am
unable to decide whether the lowering to the level of the child is only a
special case of comic degradation, or whether everything comical funda-
mentally depends on the degradation to the level of the child.¹

HUMOR

An examination of the comic, however superficial it may be, would be
most incomplete if it did not devote at least a few remarks to the consid-
eration of humor. There is so little doubt as to the essential relationship
between the two that a tentative explanation of the comic must furnish
at least one component for the understanding of humor. It does not mat-
ter how much appropriate and important material was presented as an
appreciation of humor, which, as one of the highest psychic functions,
enjoys the special favor of thinkers, we still cannot elude the temptation
to express its essence through an approach to the formulæ given for wit
and the comic.

We have heard that the release of painful emotions is the strongest
hindrance to the comic effect. Just as aimless motion causes harm, stu-
pidity mischief, and disappointment pain;—the possibility of a comic
effect ends, at least for him who cannot defend himself against such pain,
who is himself affected by it or must participate in it, whereas he who is
unconcerned shows by his behavior that the situation of the case in ques-
tion contains everything necessary to produce a comic effect. Humor is
thus a means to gain pleasure despite the painful affects which disturb
it; it acts as a substitute for this affective development, and takes its
place. If we are in a situation which tempts us to liberate painful affects
according to our habits, and motives then urge us to suppress these af-
fects in statu nascendi, we have the conditions for humor. In the cases
just cited the person affected by misfortune, pain, etc., could obtain
humoristic pleasure while the disinterested party laughs over the comic
pleasure. We can only say that the pleasure of humor results at the cost

¹That comic pleasure has its source in the “quantitative contrast,” in the comparison
of big and small, which ultimately also expresses the essential relation-
ship to the grown-up, would indeed be a peculiar coincidence if the comic had nothing
else to do with the infantile.

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WIT AND ITS RELATION TO THE UNCONSCIOUS
of this discontinued liberation of affect; it originates through the econo-
mized expenditure of affect.¹

THE ECONOMY IN EXPENDITURE OF AFFECT

Humor is the most self-sufficient of the comic forms; its process consum-
mates itself in one single person and the participation of another adds
nothing new to it. I can enjoy the pleasure of humor originating in my-
self without feeling the necessity of imparting it to another. It is not easy
to tell what happens during the production of humoristic pleasure in a
person; but one gains a certain insight by investigating these cases of
humor which have emanated from persons with whom we have entered
into a sympathetic understanding. By sympathetically understanding the
humoristic person in these cases one gets the same pleasure. The coarsest
form of humor, the so-called humor of the gallows or grim-humor (Gal-
genhumor), may enlighten us in this regard. The rogue, on being led to
execution on Monday, remarked: “Yes, this week is beginning well.” This
is really a witticism, as the remark is quite appropriate in itself, on the
other hand it is displaced in the most nonsensical fashion, as there can be
no further happening for him this week. But it required humor to make
such wit, that is, to overlook what distinguished the beginning of this week
from other weeks, and to deny the difference which could give rise to mo-
tives for very particular emotional feelings. The case is the same when on
the way to the gallows he requests a neckerchief for his bare neck, in order
to guard against taking cold, a precaution which would be quite praise-
worthy under different circumstances, but becomes exceedingly super-
fluous and indifferent in view of the impending fate of this same neck.
We must say that there is something like greatness of soul in this blague,
in this clinging to his usual nature and in deviating from that which would
overthrow and drive this nature into despair. This form of grandeur of
humor thus appears unmistakably in cases in which our admiration is not
inhibited by the circumstances of the humoristic person.

In Victor Hugo’s Ernani the bandit who entered into a conspiracy
against his king, Charles I, of Spain (Charles V, as the German Em-
peror), falls into the hands of his most powerful enemy; he foresees his
fate; as one convicted of high treason his head will fall. But this prospect
does not deter him from introducing himself as a hereditary Grandee of
Spain and from declaring that he has no intention of waiving any preroga-
tive belonging to such personage. A Grandee of Spain could appear before
his royal master with his head covered. Well:

“Nos têtes ont le droit
De tomber couvertes devant de toi.”²

¹Cf. Freud: Der Humor, Gesam. Schriften Vol. XI, p. 402, Int. Psychoanal. Verlag.
²“Our heads have the right to fall covered before thee.”

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WIT AND THE VARIOUS FORMS OF THE COMIC

This is excellent humor and if we do not laugh on hearing it, it is because
our admiration covers the humoristic pleasure. In the case of the rogue
who did not wish to take cold on the way to the gallows we roar with laugh-
ter. The situation which should have driven this criminal to despair might
have evoked in us intense pity, but this pity is inhibited because we under-
stand that he who is most concerned is quite indifferent to the situation.
As a result of this understanding, the expenditure for pity, which was al-
ready prepared in us, became inapplicable and we laughed it off. The in-
difference of the rogue, which we notice has cost him a great expenditure
of psychic labor, infects us, as it were.

Economy of sympathy is one of the most frequent sources of humoristic
pleasure. Mark Twain’s humor usually follows this mechanism. When
he tells us about the life of his brother, how, as an employee in a large
road-building enterprise, he was hurled into the air through a premature
explosion of a blast, to come to earth again far from the place where he
was working, feelings of sympathy for this unfortunate are invariably
aroused in us. We should like to inquire whether he sustained no injury
in this accident; but the continuation of the story that the brother lost a
half-day’s pay for being away from the place he worked diverts us en-
tirely from sympathy and makes us almost as hard-hearted as that em-
ployer, and just as indifferent to the possible injury to the victim’s health.
Another time Mark Twain presents us his pedigree, which he traces back
almost as far as one of the companions of Columbus. But after de-
scribing the character of this ancestor, whose entire possessions consisted
of several pieces of linen each bearing a different mark, we cannot help
laughing at the expense of the stored-up piety, a piety which characterized
our frame of mind at the beginning of this family history. The mechanism
of humoristic pleasure is not disturbed by our knowing that this family
history is a fictitious one, and that this fiction serves a satirical tendency
to expose the embellishments which result in imparting such pedigrees
to others; it is just as independent of the conditions of reality as the manu-
factured comic. Another of Mark Twain’s stories relates how his brother
constructed for himself subterranean quarters into which he brought a
bed, a table, and a lamp, and that as a roof he used a large piece of sail-
cloth with a hole through the centre; how during the night after the room
was completed, a cow being driven home, fell through the opening in the
ceiling on to the table and extinguished the lamp; how his brother helped
patiently to hoist the animal out and to rearrange everything; how he did
the same thing when the same disturbance was repeated the following
night; and then every succeeding night; such a story becomes comical
through repetition. But Mark Twain closes with the information that on
the forty-sixth night when the cow again fell through, his brother finally
remarked that the thing was beginning to grow monotonous; and here we

800

WIT AND ITS RELATION TO THE UNCONSCIOUS

can no longer restrain our humoristic pleasure for we had long expected
to hear how the brother would express his anger over this chronic malheur.
The slight humor which we draw from our own life we usually produce
at the expense of anger instead of irritating ourselves.

The excellent humoristic effect of a character like that of the fat knight,
Sir John Falstaff, is based on economized contempt and indignation. To
be sure, we recognize in him the unworthy glutton and fashionably dressed
swindler, but our condemnation is disarmed through a whole series of
factors. We understand that he knows himself to be just as we estimate
him; he impresses us through his wit; and besides that, his physical
deformity produces a contact-effect in favor of a comic conception of
his personality instead of a serious one; as if our demands for morality
and honor must recoil from such a big stomach. His activities are al-
together harmless and are almost excused by the comic lowness of those
he deceives. We admit that the poor devil has a right to live and en-
joy himself like anyone else, and we almost pity him because in the prin-
cipal situation we find him a puppet in the hands of one much his su-
perior. It is for this reason that we cannot bear him any grudge and turn
all we economize in him in indignation into comic pleasure, which he
otherwise provides. Sir John’s own humor really emanates from the su-
periority of an ego which neither his physical nor his moral defects can
rob of its joviality and security.

On the other hand, the courageous knight, Don Quixote de la Mancha,
is a figure who possesses no humor, and in his seriousness furnishes us a
pleasure which can be called humoristic, although its mechanism shows a
decided deviation from that of humor. Originally Don Quixote is a purely
comic figure, a big child whose fancies from his books on knighthood have
gone to his head. It is known that at first the poet wanted to show only
that phase of his character, and that the creation gradually outgrew
the author’s original intentions. But after the poet endowed this ludi-
crous person with the profoundest wisdom and noblest aims and made
him the symbolic representation of an idealism, a man who believed in
the realization of his aims, who took duties seriously and promised liter-
ally, he ceased to be a comic personality. Like humoristic pleasure, which
results from a prevention of emotional feelings, it originates here through
the disturbance of comic pleasure. However, in these examples we al-
ready depart perceptibly from the simple cases of humor.

FORMS OF HUMOR

The forms of humor are extraordinarily varied according to the nature
of the emotional feeling which is economized in favor of humor, as sym-
pathy, anger, pain, compassion, etc. This series seems incomplete because
the sphere of humor undergoes a constant enlargement, as often as an art-

801

WIT AND THE VARIOUS FORMS OF THE COMIC

ist or writer succeeds in mastering humoristically the, as yet, uncon-
quered emotional feelings and in making them, through artifices similar
to those in the above example, a source of humoristic pleasure. Thus, some
artists have worked wonders in gaining humor at the expense of fear and
disgust. The manifestations of humor are above all determined by two
peculiarities, which are connected with the conditions of its origin. In the
first place, humor may appear fused with wit or any other form of the
comic; whereby it has for its task the removal of a possible emotional de-
velopment which would form a hindrance to the pleasurable effect. Sec-
ondly, it can entirely or only partially abolish this emotional develop-
ment, which is really more frequently the case, because the simpler func-
tion and the different forms of “broken” ¹ humor, results in that humor
which smiles under its tears. It withdraws from the affect a part of its
energy and gives it instead the additional humoristic ring.

As was noticed from former examples, the humoristic pleasure gained
through subsequent sympathy results from a special technique resembling
displacement, through which the liberation of affect held ready is checked
and the cathexis is deflected to other, and not often, to matters of sec-
ondary importance. This does not help us, however, to understand the
process by which the displacement from the development of affect pro-
ceeds in the humoristic person himself. We see that the recipient imitates
the producer of the humor in his psychic processes, but we discover nothing
thereby concerning the forces which make this process possible in the
latter.

When, for example, somebody succeeds in disregarding a painful affect
because he holds before himself the greatness of the world’s interest as a
contrast to his own smallness, we can only say that we see in this no func-
tion of humor, but one of philosophic thinking, and we gain no pleasure
even if we put ourselves into his train of thought. The humoristic dis-
placement is, therefore, just as impossible in the light of conscious atten-
tion as in the comic comparison: like the latter it is connected with the
condition to remain in the foreconscious—that is to say, to remain auto-
matic.

One reaches some solution of humoristic displacement if one considers
it in the light of a defense process. The defense processes are the psychic
correlates of the flight reflex and follow the task of guarding against the
origin of pain from inner sources. In fulfilling this task they serve the
psychic occurrence as an automatic adjustment, which, to be sure, finally
proves harmful and, therefore, must be subjected to the control of the
conscious thinking. A definite form of this defense, the failure of repres-
sion, I have demonstrated as the effective mechanism in the origin of the
psychoneuroses. Humor can now be conceived as the loftiest of these de-
fenses.

¹ A term which is used in quite a different sense in the Aesthetik of Theo. Vischer.

802

fense functions. It disdains to withdraw from conscious attention the
ideas which are connected with the painful affect, as repression does, and
it, thus, overcomes the defense automatism. It brings this about by finding
the means to withdraw the energy from the ready held pain release, and
through discharge changes the same into pleasure. It is even credible that
it is again the connection with the infantile that puts at humor’s disposal
the means for this function. Only in childhood did we experience inten-
sively painful affects over which today as grown-ups we would laugh, just
as a humorist laughs over his present painful affects. The elevation of his
ego, which is evidenced by the humoristic displacement—the translation
of which would nevertheless read: I am too big to have these causes affect
me painfully—he could find in the comparison of his present ego with
his infantile ego. This conception is to some extent confirmed by the rôle
which falls to the infantile in the neurotic processes of repression.

THE RELATION OF HUMOR TO WIT AND COMIC

On the whole, humor is closer to the comic than wit. Like the former its
psychic localization is in the foreconscious, whereas wit, as we had to
assume, is formed as a compromise between the unconscious and the fore-
conscious. On the other hand, humor has no share in the peculiar nature
in which wit and the comic meet, a peculiarity which perhaps we have not
hitherto emphasized strongly enough. It is a condition for the origin of
the comic that we be induced to apply—either simultaneously or in rapid
succession—to the same thought function two different modes of ideas,
between which the “comparison” then takes place and the comic differ-
ence results. Such differences originate between the expenditure of the
stranger and one’s own, between the usual expenditure and the emergency
expenditure, between an anticipated expenditure and one which has al-
ready occurred.¹

The difference between two forms of conception resulting simultane-
ously, which work with different expenditures, comes into consideration in
wit, in respect to the hearer. The one of these two conceptions, by taking
the hints contained in wit, follows the train of thought through the uncon-
scious, while the other conception remains on the surface and presents the
witticism like any wording from the foreconscious which has become con-
scious. Perhaps it would not be considered an unjustified statement if we
should refer the pleasure of the witticism heard to the difference between
these two forms of presentation.

Concerning wit, we here repeat our former statement concerning its

¹If one does not hesitate to do some violence to the conception of expectation, one
may ascribe—according to the process of Lipps—a very large sphere of the comic
to the comic of expectation; but probably the most original cases of the comic
which result through a comparison of a strange expenditure with one’s own, will fit
least into this conception.

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WIT AND THE VARIOUS FORMS OF THE COMIC

Janus-
like double-facedness, a simile we used when the relation between
wit and the comic still appeared to us unsettled.¹

The character thus put into the foreground becomes indistinct when
we deal with humor. To be sure, we feel the humoristic pleasure where an
emotional feeling is evaded, which we might have expected as a pleasure
usually belonging to the situation; and in so far humor really falls under
the broadened conception of the comic of expectation. But in humor it is
no longer a question of two different kinds of ideas having the same con-
tent. The fact that the situation comes under the domination of a painful
emotional feeling which should have been avoided, puts an end to pos-
sible comparison with the nature of the comic and of wit. The humoristic
displacement is really a case of that different kind of utilization of a freed
expenditure, which proved to be so dangerous for the comic effect.

FORMULÆ FOR WIT, COMIC AND HUMOR

Now, that we have reduced the mechanism of humoristic pleasure to a
formula analogous to the formula of comic pleasure and of wit, we are at
the end of our task. It has seemed to us that the pleasure of wit originates
from an economy of expenditure in inhibition, of the comic from an econ-
omy of expenditure in thought, and of humor from an economy of expend-
iture in feeling. All three modes of activity of our psychic apparatus
derive pleasure from economy. All three present methods strive to bring
back from the psychic activity a pleasure which has really been lost in
the development of this activity. For the euphoria which we are thus
striving to obtain is nothing but the state of a bygone time, in which we
were wont to defray our psychic work with slight expenditure. It is the
state of our childhood in which we did not know the comic, were incapable
of wit, and did not need humor to make us happy.

¹The characteristic of the “double face” naturally did not escape the authors.
Mélinand, from whom I borrowed the above expression, conceives the condition for
laughing in the following formula: “Ce qui fait rire, c’est qui est à la fois, d’un côté,
absurde et de l’autre, familier” (“Pourquoi rit-on?” Revue de deux mondes, Febru-
ary, 1895). This formula fits in better with wit than with the comic, but it really
does not altogether cover the former. Bergson (l. c., p. 96) defines the comic situation
by the “reciprocal interference of series,” and states: “A situation is invariably comic
when it belongs simultaneously to two altogether independent series of events and is
capable of being interpreted in two entirely different meanings at the same time.”
According to Lipps the comic is “the greatness and smallness of the same.”