This is easily proved by the recollection of the fun of Puss In Boots or The Three Bears, and the gravity of a Natural History.
Therefore, Bergson argues, man is not only the only animal that laughs, he is the only animal which is laughed at, for if any other animal or any lifeless object provokes mirth, it is only because of some resemblance to man in appearance or intent.
So, with such minor exceptions as to be doubtful or negligible, we must accept man as the only exponent or possessor of humor.
And it is one of the latest achievements of humanity.
First, we assent, was the survival of the fittest. Followed a sense of hunger, a sense of safety, a sense of warfare, a sense of Tribal Rights,—through all these stages there was no time or need for humor.
Among the earliest fossilized remains no funny bone has been found.
Doubtless, too, a sense of sorrow came before the sense of humor dawned. Death came, and early man wept long before it occurred to him to laugh and have the world laugh with him. Gregariousness and leisure were necessary before mirth could ensue. All life was subjective; dawning intelligence learned first to look out for Number One.
Yet it was early in the game that our primordial ancestors began to see a lighter side of life.
Indeed, as Mr. Wells tells us, they mimicked very cleverly, gestured, danced and laughed before they could talk!
And the consideration of the development of this almost innate human sense is our present undertaking.