When I encountered the word witcracker in Much Ado About Nothing, I marked it for further use and found myself silently singing it to the tune of “Matchmaker, Matchmaker” from Fiddler on the Roof: “Witcracker, witcracker, / Make me a wit . . .” In Shakespeare’s Act V, Scene 4, Benedick, much in love with Beatrice, says to Don Pedro:
“I’ll tell
thee what, prince; a college of
wit-crackers
cannot flout me out of my humour. Dost
thou think I
care for a satire or an epigram? No:
if a man
will be beaten with brains, a’ shall wear
nothing
handsome about him.”
The OED defines witcracker as “one who makes witty or sarcastic remarks” and Dr. Johnson gives us “a joker; one who breaks a jest.” Shakespeare’s usage is the
only one cited by both. It never caught on, which is a shame, though the OED also recognizes “wit-crack,” defined as “the ‘cracking’ of a joke . . . a
brisk witticism.” But why crack? It’s
one of those words with dozens of meanings, the closest being “loud talk,
boast, brag; hence, sometimes, exaggeration, lie.” Thus, we “crack” jokes and
make “wisecracks,” a twentieth-century word.
Getting back
to Shakespeare, I wondered about epigram,
a favorite form. Dr. Johnson offers a memorable definition: “A short poem
terminating in a point” – like a knife. The modern master is J.V. Cunningham, a
deft witcracker:
“Hang up
your weaponed wit
Who were
destroyed by it.
If silence
fails, then grace
Your speech
with commonplace,
And
studiously amaze
Your
audience with his phrase.
He will
commend your wit
When you
abandon it.”
No comments:
Post a Comment