Historical figures are all so dead. Worse than dead, in fact — boring and musty.

We should… Historical figures are all so dead. Worse than dead, in fact — boring and musty.

We should be forgiven for this impression, given what they teach us in grade school. We usually learn all the serious bits about historical figures’ lives, and, if they’re really important, like George Washington or Thomas Jefferson or Abraham Lincoln, they’re elevated to almost demigod status. Most gods aren’t known for having fun or for being any fun at all.

But our conception of these people isn’t entirely accurate. Mozart wrote not one, but two different “Kiss My Ass” canons, K. 231 and K. 559, one of which (Difficile Lectu, K. 559) relied on the fact that the lead singer at its likely first performance, a friend of Mozart’s, had a heavy Bavarian accent. J.S. Bach’s Coffee Cantata is quite lighthearted, and its grumpy-old-man character might be humorously self-referential. Lincoln was an inveterate jokester and storyteller — there’s a famous cartoon that makes fun of this tendency. Benjamin Franklin was very interested in having fun. Legend has it that he wasn’t given the lead authorship on the Declaration of Independence because the Second Continental Congress feared he would slip in a joke. Furthermore, Franklin was not at all averse to female company, even at a ripe old age, and it is often impossible to tell in his writing when he’s kidding and when he’s speaking in earnest. Ronald Reagan’s sense of humor is remembered, but Gerald Ford, not usually considered very exciting, landed at least one good quip at Reagan’s expense during the 1976 presidential primaries.

So why do grade school teachers ignore the most fun aspects of history in favor of the dramatic? Partly because we have a sort of reverence for the past. Partly, as well, because we revere the dead, and partly because most of the history we learn is serious business, with serious battles, serious and weighty discussions, and a seriously large number of dates we have to memorize for the quiz next week. Furthermore, the study of history is limited by what people bothered to write down. As nobody wanted to appear frivolous, what was most frequently recorded concerned the most weighty of matters. And usually, we only have time to discuss the serious stuff.

Why is this absence of levity a problem? First, it makes history no fun. Learning about all these boring old white men hashing out the Peace of Westphalia, the Treaty of Ghent, the Treaty of Aix-la-Chapelle and the War of Jenkins’ Ear in 1648, 1814, 1748 and 1742 and memorizing all of those dates is a real drag. It reinforces what every schoolboy already knows: that history is simply boring and not worth learning about. As nobody had fun in the past, why enjoy reading about them in the present?

Second, not discussing the lighter side of people’s personalities makes them seem less like real people. Their seeming lack of humor, or really any sort of emotion, distances them from us, and this distance, in turn, reinforces one of the most misguided delusions we have about the past: that people back then were very different from people now. I don’t mean to say they didn’t believe different things or that customs and social structures weren’t different. I mean humanity as a whole is no smarter or more stupid than it ever has been. Greed, jealousy, wrath, pride, lust — all of these emotions burned as brightly in our forebears as in ourselves.

When historical figures’ emotions are ignored, their actions make little sense. In fairness, we do hear about political maneuvering in the context of a love of power, or the results of political intrigue. But this ignores other possible reasons for acting. For example, England plunged into civil war because Edward IV didn’t want to keep it zipped, as far as Elizabeth Woodville was concerned. In the same period, the fact that Queen Margaret and the Earl of Warwick personally disliked each other significantly accounted for their animosity toward one another. Charles I got into trouble because his personality was irritating and inflexible, but his father James I and his son Charles II got on splendidly with many people, as they had different personalities.

Instead of discounting fun in history, we have to remember that in between such grave matters as declaring independence and fighting the Battle of Brandywine, there wasn’t much to do. There was a need for amusement, and people amused themselves. And all this reminds me of a most capital joke.

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