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The year is 1806, the place London. A man seeks help for depression. “Normally I’d prescribe medication,” his doctor says. “But the pantomime on at Covent Garden will do you a lot more good. I cried with laughter. Go and see Harlequin and Mother Goose. Grimaldi will cure you.” “Ah,” sad the man sadly. “I am Grimaldi.” Not waving but drowning. The aria Vesti la giubba from Leoncavallo’s opera Pagliacci opens, Put on your costume and powder your face. People want to laugh. Turn your tears and distress into jest, your pain and sobbing into a funny face... Until the harlequin’s real life overwhelms him and the comedy turns to tragedy. One in four of us endures depression, but comics can suffer particularly acutely. Spike Milligan bipolar, Kenneth Williams full of despair, Tony Hancock’s life ending in self-destruction. Because my mouth is wide with laughter And my throat is deep with song You do not think I suffer after I have held my pain so long, runs Langston Hughes’ poem the Minstrel Man. Because my mouth is wide with laughter You do not hear my inner cry? Because my feet are gay with dancing You do not see I die. Doubtless, depressives sometimes turn to humour to cheer themselves. The miserable Jaques in As You Like It longs for a motley coat, as licence to tell it as it is. Also though, ruthless candour – which comics must have – takes its toll. Feste sees the dark side more clearly than anyone, whist being obliged to stay more cheerful than everyone: the rain it raineth every day... but, We’ll strive to please you every day. Lear’s Fool alone keeps telling the king the bitter truth... and dies doing so. The sad clown, the wise fool, the blind seer. Tiresias, with no eyes, had vision clearer than the king’s – who, when he did see, was unable to bear it and took his own sight. You can’t be funny without devastating honesty. The comic may have freedom to speak out, but also bears the burden of perception which others can’t carry. Listening to the much-loved Robin Williams’ compelling interview replayed on this programme yesterday, I too laughed at his portrayal of the devil watching his descent from drugs... a terrifying account. It is the rare few, not the popular many, who dare to see life raw and naked: sometimes the least likely who understand in greatest depth. The highly-educated and intellectually-accomplished Paul boasted of being a fool for Christ: not many of you were wise, he wrote to the Corinthians; but God chooses folly to reveal His wisdom. Truth is not for the timid. A few can see far more clearly than the rest of us. But they can pay a fearful price.