But Archilochus’ humour, though rude and simple, opened a new mine of wealth, and if it was not at first very rich, it was enough to indicate the golden treasure beneath.  Sonorous narratives about heroes and demi-gods were to be gradually supplanted by the bright contrasts of real life.  Archilochus’ ingenuity had introduced light metres suited for flippant and pointed allusions.  The conceit was generally approved, and though the new form could not exactly be called humorous, it occurred to Hipponax, in the next century, that he could make it so by a slight alteration.  Perhaps this “Father of Parody” intended to mimic Archilochus; at any rate, by means of a change in termination, he manufactured “limping” Iambics.  We must suppose that he produced something better than this, but look in vain into his lines for any instances of real pungency.  He was a sort of Greek Samson, his best jokes seem to have been connected with great strength, and to judge from what remains of his works, we should conclude that he was more justly famous for “tossing an oil cruise” than for producing anything which we should call humour.  But, were we asked whether in that age his sayings would have been amusing, we may reply in the affirmative; they certainly had severity, for his figure having been caricatured by the sculptors of Chios, Bupalus and Anthermus, he repaid them so well in their own coin, that they also duly hanged themselves.  It must be admitted that the fact of the same kind of death having been chosen by them, and by the objects of Archilochus’ derision, does not increase greatly the credibility of the stories.

We now come to consider what we may call a serious source of humour.  Already we have noticed the tendency in ancient times to exercises of ingenuity in answering hard questions.  These led to deeper thought, to the aphoristic wisdom of the seven wise men, and the speculations of those who were in due time to raise laughter at the follies of mankind.

This introduces the era of the philosophers—­a remarkable class of men, who grew up in the mercurial atmosphere of Greece.  One of the most distinguished of them was Democritus, born 460 B.C.  He came of noble descent, and belonged to so wealthy a family of Abdera that his father was able to entertain Xerxes on his return to Asia.  The King left some Chaldean Magi to instruct his son, who, early in life, evinced a great desire for the acquisition of knowledge, and after studying under Leucippus, travelled to Egypt, Persia, and Babylon.  He almost seemed a compound of two different characters, uniting the intellectual energy of the sage with the social feelings of a man of the world.  Living in ease and opulence, he was not inclined to be censorious or morose; having mingled much in society, he was not very emotional or sympathetic; not tempted to think life a melancholy scene of suffering, but callous enough to find amusement in the ills he could not prevent.  He regarded man, generally, as a curious study, as remarkable for not exercising the intellect with which he was endowed—­not so much from censurable causes as from some obliquity in mental vision.  Not that he regarded him as unaccountable—­a fool in the ordinary acceptation of the word, is always a responsible being, and not synonymous with an idiot.