Clement of Alexandria · a new plain-English translation from the original language
We must banish from our way of life men who mimic laughable things, or rather ridiculous passions. For since all speech flows from the mind and character, it is not possible to put forth laughable words without their proceeding from a laughable character. For the saying, "a good tree does not produce bad fruit, nor does a bad tree produce good fruit," would fit here too; the mind's character bears its own crop in speech. Since jesters, accordingly, are to be exiled from our commonwealth, far be it from us to permit ourselves to play the jester. For it is absurd that we should be found imitating what we have been forbidden even to listen to; and it is far more absurd still to make it one's earnest business to become laughable oneself — that is, to become an object of outrage and mockery. For if we would not endure being made to look ridiculous in outward form, as some are seen to be in processions, how could we reasonably tolerate the inner man being shaped into something more ridiculous still? And if we would never willingly twist our own face into something more laughable, how could we make it our practice, in our speech, both to be and to appear ridiculous, mocking the most honored of all human possessions, reason itself? To practice such things, then, is mere buffoonery, since the very talk of jesters is not worth listening to, accustoming people through the words themselves to shameful deeds; rather we should cultivate wit, not clownishness. But we must also bridle laughter itself. For laughter too, when brought forth in the proper manner, displays orderliness, but when it goes beyond that measure it shows licentiousness. For, simply put, whatever is natural to human beings should not be uprooted from them, but rather fitted with due measure and occasion. For it is not because man is a laughing animal that everything is to be laughed at, just as the horse, though a neighing animal, does not neigh at everything; rather, as rational animals we must temper ourselves with good measure, relaxing the austerity and high pitch of our seriousness harmoniously, not dissolving it discordantly. For the orderly relaxation of the face, in harmony as of an instrument, is called a smile (a diffusion that plays back across the face in this way) — this is the laughter of the temperate; but the discordant slackening of the face, if it occurs in women, is called giggling, and is a harlot's laughter, while if in men, it is called guffawing, and this is a laughter fit for suitors and full of insolence. Scripture puts it this way: "the fool lifts up his voice when he laughs, but a shrewd man will barely, and softly, smile." By "the clever man" it here means the prudent man, one disposed opposite to the fool. But neither, on the other hand, should one be sullen, but rather thoughtful; for I very much approve of that man who was seen smiling with a grim face — "for so his laughter would be less an object of mockery." The smile itself must also be disciplined: if it occurs over shameful things, we ought rather to be seen blushing than smiling, lest we seem to share in the pleasure out of sympathy; and if over painful things, it is fitting to be seen more downcast than to seem to take delight in them — for the one is evidence of human feeling, the other betrays a suspicion of cruelty. For one ought not to laugh always (that would be immoderate), nor when elders or others deserving of respect are present, unless indeed they themselves should jest so as to put us at ease; nor should one laugh before just anyone, nor in every place, nor before everyone, nor on every occasion. For laughter is above all a slippery slope into slander for young men and women. And to appear formidable from a distance is a means of putting suitors to flight; for gravity, even from mere appearance alone, is capable of repelling the assaults of licentiousness. Wine, one might almost say, drives all the foolish both to laugh softly and to dance, turning their effeminate character toward softness. And one must observe how, from this, license increases disorder into shameful speech; and "a word escaped him, which had been better left unsaid." It happens, at any rate, that it is especially in wine that the characters of the corrupt are seen laid bare of their pretense, on account of the unrestrained license of drunken behavior — through which reason, its head grown heavy with intoxication, is lulled to sleep within the soul itself, while the perverse passions are awakened, overpowering the weakness of reasoning.
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