The Epigram: A Champagne Cocktail of Words, Wit, and Wisdom

Text from the "Epigrammata," 1490, written by Marcus Valerius Martialis (Martial). Escarlati/CC BY-SA 3.0

“I can resist everything except temptation.” So wrote Oscar Wilde, perhaps unsurpassed in English in the art of the epigram. This particular example perfectly illustrates the definition of this word: “a pithy saying or remark expressing an idea in a clever and amusing way.”

Certain poems are also regarded as epigrammatic. Here’s “Ironist” by American poet Bruce Bennett:

I mean the opposite of what I say. You’ve got it now? No, it’s the other way.

Samuel Taylor Coleridge even wrote an epigram defining this form by demonstration:

What is an Epigram? A dwarfish whole, Its body brevity, and wit its soul.

Epigram derives from the Greek “epigraphein,” meaning “to write on, to inscribe,” and from the Latin “epigramma,” which carries the same basic meaning. Sometimes users of the word confuse it with “epigraph,” which refers to a brief inscription on a building or a coin, or to a short statement at the beginning of a book, usually summing up its theme. “Epithet” may also cause a mix-up, but this word refers to terms of abuse, such as your thoughts when the driver ahead of you goes 30 miles an hour down the on-ramp leading to the interstate.

A reconstruction of a painting on the east wall at the House of the Epigrams (named so for its wall paintings with inscriptions from Greek epigrams) in Pompeii, by August Sikkard. From the "History of Decorative Wall Painting in Pompeii," 1882. Public Domain

Distinguishing an epigram from an aphorism, a short statement expressing a general truth, can be more difficult. “The grass is always greener on the other side of the fence” and Ben Franklin’s “Early to bed, early to rise, makes a man healthy, wealthy, and wise” are both aphorisms. Most users of these terms often overlook the differences and use the terms interchangeably.

Writers have long enjoyed the word play possible in the epigram, as well as the fact that these sayings are often memorable and certain to enhance an author’s reputation as a person of wit and intelligence. These motives were surely among the reasons that Marcus Valerius Martialis, known today as Martial, wrote 1,561 of these short verses.

The Father of the Epigram

Text from the "Epigrammata," 1490, written by Marcus Valerius Martialis (Martial), otherwise known as the “Father of the Epigram.” Escarlati/CC BY-SA 3.0

Born in Spain around A.D. 40, in his mid-20s Martial traveled to Rome, where he remained for some 30 years before returning to his homeland. For a part of his time in that city, he appears to have led a bohemian existence, and even when he had gained a little wealth, money remained a primary concern.

Martial derived a part of this income from his poetry, particularly the epigrams, many of which offered a devastating and often vulgar take on his fellow citizens. These gossipy, acerbic verses often snap at their subjects, as in these lines about a man who likely set his own house on fire to collect what we today would call insurance:

Tongilianus, you paid 200,000 sesterces for your house. An accident, too common in this city, destroyed it. You collected 1,000,000 sesterces. Now I ask you, is it not possible that you set fire to your own house, Tongilianus?

Here’s an example from the original Latin:

Cur non mitto meos tibi, Pontiliane, libellos? Ne mihi tu mittas, Pontiliane, tuos.

Why do I not send you, Pontilianus, my little books? Because, Pontilianus, you will send yours to me.

Over a millennium later, the revival of ancient literature in Europe led to a renewed interest in the verses of this man who is today regarded as the “Father of the Epigram.”

The Form Resurrected

"Alexander Pope," circa 1727, by Michael Dahl. Oil on canvas. National Portrait Gallery, London. Public Domain

British poets like Shakespeare, Dryden, and Donne forged epigrams in their verse. Here, for example, is a part of Alexander Pope’s “Essay on Criticism,” in which he assails some of the poetic devices of his day:

Where’er you find the “cooling western breeze,” In the next line, it “whispers through the trees”: If “crystal streams with pleasing murmurs creep,” The reader’s threaten'd (not in vain) with “sleep.”

In a more famous, stand-alone poem, “Epigram Engraved on the Collar of a Dog Which I Gave to His Royal Highness,” Pope offers this splendid example of the form:

I am his Highness’ dog at Kew, Pray tell me, Sir, whose dog are you?

Of course, epigrams occur in prose as well as verse. The late 19th and early 20th centuries saw a flowering of these garlands of humorous, and sometimes scathing, witticisms.

American Made

Ambrose Bierce, 1896, by Frances Soule Campbell. An illustrated plate from "The Collected Works of Ambrose Bierce," 1909. Public Domain

In the United States, two writers of this period were standout epigrammatists.

Known mostly for his short stories and “The Devil’s Dictionary,” the world-weary pessimist Ambrose Bierce often gave way in his writing to the darkness with which he apparently lived. Here are just three examples from his “Epigrams of a Cynic”:

The only distinction that democracies reward is a high degree of conformity.

True, man does not know woman. But neither does woman.

Death is not the end; there remains the litigation over the estate.

For “The Devil’s Dictionary,” Bierce concocted such definitions as these:

Cabbage, n. A familiar kitchen-garden vegetable about as large and wise as a man’s head.

Comfort, n. A state of mind produced by contemplation of a neighbor’s uneasiness.

Coward, n. One who in a perilous emergency thinks with his legs.

Not quite as bleak as the epigrams of Bierce are those left us by novelist, humorist, and speaker Mark Twain:

Always do right. That will gratify some of the people, and astonish the rest.

It could probably be shown by facts and figures that there is no distinctly native American criminal class except Congress.

A classic is something that everybody wants to have read and nobody wants to read.

Page 12 from "The Cynic's Word Book" by Ambrose Bierce, 1906. Library of Congress. Public Domain

Across the Pond

Great Britain also produced writers who were masters of the epigram.

Though he could turn a jaundiced eye to topics like politics—“It is terrible to contemplate how few politicians are hanged”—G.K. Chesterton’s witticisms tended to take a more positive direction than those written by many of his contemporaries. A Christian, generally optimistic, and an advocate of the ordinary person and the ordinary life, Chesterton’s epigrams and aphorisms reflect his buoyant personality. “I regard golf as an expensive way of playing marbles,” is about as acerbic as Chesterton gets. More typical of him is this observation, which still brings a smile and encouragement to many of his readers: “If a thing is worth doing, it is worth doing badly.”

But the grand champion of the epigram in the English-speaking world during that time, or any other time for that matter, is Oscar Wilde.

When entering the United States for a visit, Wilde was asked by Customs if he had anything to declare. “Only my genius,” he supposedly replied, and that remark, though immodest, demonstrates his natural penchant for the epigram.

Wilde’s aphorisms and epigrams are often effervescent, sparkling like a glass of Champagne in candlelight. “Some cause happiness wherever they go; others whenever they go,” “Life is far too important a thing ever to talk seriously about,” and “A good friend will always stab you in the front” are just a sampling of Wilde’s wit.

Many of his humorous pronouncements were focused on himself in a mix of braggadocio and deprecation. “I never travel without my diary. One should always have something sensational to read in the train” may contain more truth than we know. “I am so clever that sometimes I don’t understand a single word of what I am saying” is false—Wilde knew exactly what he was saying—but it’s still funny.

Try It Yourself

We live in an age particularly conducive to the writing of epigrams. Sound bites and slogans and our communications via such platforms as Twitter or text are ideal vehicles for unleashing terse, amusing remarks via our electronic devices. Yet most of the memes and observations that appear, while they may make us laugh, are quickly forgotten.

It seems, then, that we have more than enough conveyances but few drivers. Given our age of hustle and hurry, this is understandable. To speak and write memorable epigrams requires time and effort, a formidable sense of paradox, an ability to balance and compare contrasting thoughts in a short statement, and above all, a sophisticated sense of humor. Wilde, for example, polished his epigrams, both the ones in his plays and the ones he spoke, and refurbished them as time passed.

So for you readers who wish to try your hand at the epigram, that field is wide open. All you need do is read some examples to get the idea, then step up to the plate and start swinging for the fences.