continuity is needed, a break with fashion, for this quality to
revive. Hence the impression that this dissolution of continuity is
the parent of the comic, whereas all it does is to bring it to our
notice. Hence, again, the explanation of laughter by surprise,
contrast, etc., definitions which would equally apply to a host of
cases in which we have no inclination whatever to laugh. The truth
of the matter is far from being so simple. But to return to our idea
of disguise, which, as we have just shown, has been entrusted with
the special mandate of arousing laughter. It will not be out of
place to investigate the uses it makes of this power.

Why do we laugh at a head of hair which has changed from dark to
blond? What is there comic about a rubicund nose? And why does one
laugh at a negro? The question would appear to be an embarrassing
one, for it has been asked by successive psychologists such as
Hecker, Kraepelin and Lipps, and all have given different replies.
And yet I rather fancy the correct answer was suggested to me one
day in the street by an ordinary cabby, who applied the expression
"unwashed" to the negro fare he was driving. Unwashed! Does not this
mean that a black face, in our imagination, is one daubed over with
ink or soot? If so, then a red nose can only be one which has
received a coating of vermilion. And so we see that the notion of
disguise has passed on something of its comic quality to instances
in which there is actually no disguise, though there might be.

In the former set of examples, although his usual dress was distinct
from the individual, it appeared in our mind to form one with him,
because we had become accustomed to the sight. In the latter,
although the black or red colour is indeed inherent in the skin, we
look upon it as artificially laid on, because it surprises us.