Can Historians Be Funny?

Recently, I was asked whether historians avoid humor. My recent experience shouted “yes,” but I recalled that when I was a child my parents owned a small, amusing book about history. The author’s name was Richard Armour. I googled him and bought two of his books. I find him funny.

Armour was the author of at least 35 books and all kinds of poems, jokes, and essays. He was also a professor at such schools as Northwestern University and Claremont Graduate School and even dean of the faculty at Scripps College. 

His best-known book, It All Started with Columbus, is a riff on the education that most Americans received in the 1950s.[1] (Every year in elementary school, like clockwork, we learned about the explorers: we never seemed to get further.) It All Started. . . is often just silly, as Armour makes puns or tangles up the facts, most of which Americans probably knew at the time.

The remaining content of my post is mostly composed of examples of humor from two of Armour’s books, beginning with It All Started with Columbus. I hope I am permitted to reprint these excerpts under copyright law, in order to restore attention to a neglected craftsman whose work is out of print. 

The Pilgrims: One thing that helped the Pilgrims get through winter was the economical practice of putting young men and women into bed together, fully clothed. This odd practice, known as bungling, was endured by the young people of the colony until the weather became milder and a sufficient supply of bedwarmers could be imported from England. [2]  

Alexander Hamilton. Hamilton, a reactionary, was opposed to debt. In order to pay the costs of the war against the British, he established a mint. It was the sale of mint, for mint juleps, to army officers for the South, that put the new government on its feet and removed a good many Southern colonels from theirs.” [3]

World War I. The United States at first kept out of the war. President Wilson wrote numerous notes to the Kaiser, asking him to stop fighting. The Kaiser either ignored them or boorishly replied in German, which he thought Wilson could not read. [4]

Later in life, perhaps disillusioned by the growing U.S. involvement in Vietnam, Armour wrote It All Started with Stones and Clubs, a history of war, especially weapons. [5] This book is more sophisticated—more sarcastic, with less punning—than It All Started with Columbus. His purpose was to record “the gratifying progress made by man since his first rude, small-scale efforts to do away with those who disagreed with him.”[6] Examples:

The Crusades. As for the Crusaders themselves, they were mostly individual volunteers, some of them full of religious zeal, some of them trying to get away from their creditors, and some trying to get away from their wives.” [7]

The Thirty Years’ War. Though the Thirty Years’ War must take second place to the Hundred Years’ War as regards length, in one respect it is first. It is easily the most confusing.” [8]

Gunpowder. Some believe that the Chinese invented gunpowder before 225 B.C. But, uninspired by democratic ideals or the Christian ethic, they employed it only in firecrackers, taking childish satisfaction in the noise! [9].

Nineteenth Century. For a time, after the Battle of Waterloo, things looked bad for war in Europe. People resigned themselves to a long period of dull, unexciting peace. But the invention of detonating powder by a Scottish clergyman, Alexander Forsyth, who had been trying to find a way of arousing his slumbering congregation, led to the percussion-firing weapon, which in turn made possible Samuel Colt’s revolving pistol in 1835.” ]10] (Armour was fascinated by gunpowder.)

 World War II. Those who considered World War I the ultimate in wars were lacking in vision, as was proved by World War II, which was of worldwide scope and truly worthy of its name.” [11]

Napoleon. The name of Napoleon must be included in that roster of dedicated men, including Alexander, Hannibal, Caesar, Attila, Genghis Khan, and the inventor of gunpowder, who by their unceasing efforts spared millions of men from suffering the ills and boredom of old age.” [12]

 Ouch. That hurts. But, as we know, war is hell. For someone studying history, which is often gloomy, humor is a breath of fresh air. Perhaps in a future post I will share my efforts to find humor in more contemporary authors.

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[1] Richard Armour, It All Started with Columbus (London: McGraw-Hill, 1953).

[2] Armour, Columbus, 9.

[3] Armour, Columbus, 34.

[4] Armour, Columbus, 99.

[5] Richard Armour, It All Started with Stones and Clubs (New York, McGraw-Hill, 1967).[

[6] From the subtitle of Stones and Clubs.

[7] Armour, Stones and Clubs, 59.

[8] Armour, Stones and Clubs, 87.

[9] Armour, Stones and Clubs, 75.

]10] Armour, Stones and Clubs, 111.

[11] Armour, Stones and Clubs, 132.

[12] Armour, Stones and Clubs, 104.