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diff --git a/old/68163-0.txt b/old/68163-0.txt deleted file mode 100644 index 17355ef..0000000 --- a/old/68163-0.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,33621 +0,0 @@ -The Project Gutenberg eBook of An Outline Of Humor, by Carolyn Wells - -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and -most other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions -whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms -of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at -www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you -will have to check the laws of the country where you are located before -using this eBook. - -Title: An Outline Of Humor - Being a True Chronicle From Prehistoric Ages to the Twentieth - Century - -Editor: Carolyn Wells - -Release Date: May 24, 2022 [eBook #68163] - -Language: English - -Produced by: Charlene Taylor, Karin Spence and the Online Distributed - Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net (This file was - produced from images generously made available by The - Internet Archive/American Libraries.) - -*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK AN OUTLINE OF HUMOR *** - - - - - - An - Outline of Humor - - Being a True Chronicle From - Prehistoric Ages to the - Twentieth Century - - - Edited by - - Carolyn Wells - - Editor of - “The Book of Humorous Verse,” - “A Nonsense Anthology,” etc. - - - G. P. Putnam’s Sons - New York & London - The Knickerbocker Press - 1923 - - - - - Copyright, 1923 - by - Carolyn Wells Houghton - - - [Illustration] - - Made in the United States of America - - - - - DEDICATED - - WITH - - HIGHEST REGARD - - TO - - DOCTOR HUBER GRAY BUEHLER - - - - - FOREWORD - - -Outlining is a modern art. For centuries we have collected and -selected, compiled and compended, but only of late have we outlined. - -And an Outline is a result differing in kind from the other work -mentioned, and presenting different conditions and contingencies. - -An Outline, owing to its sweep of magnificent distances, can touch -only the high spots, and can but skim those. Not in its province is -criticism or exhaustive commentary. Not in its scope are long effusions -or lengthy extracts. - -Nor may it include everybody or everything that logically belongs to it. - -An Outline is at best an irregular proposition, and the Outliner must -follow his irregular path as best he may. But one thing is imperative, -the Outliner must be conscientious. He must weigh to the best of his -knowledge and belief the claims to inclusion that his opportunities -present. He must pick and choose with all the discernment of which he -is capable and while following his best principles of taste he must -sink his personal preferences in his regard for his Outline as a whole. - -Nor can he pick and choose his audience. To one reader,--or critic,--a -hackneyed selection is tiresome, while to another it is a novelty and -a revelation. And it must be remembered that a hackneyed poem is a -favorite one and a favorite is one adjudged best, by a consensus of -human opinion, and is therefore a high spot to be touched upon. - -While the Outline is generally chronological, it is not a history and -dates are not given. Also, when it seemed advisable to desert the -chronological path for the topographical one, that was done. - -Yet Foreign Literatures cannot be adequately treated in an Outline -printed in English. Translations are at best misleading. If the -translation is a poor one, the pith and moment of the original is -partly, or wholly lost. And if the translation be of great merit, the -work may show the merit of the new rendition rather than the original. - -And aside from all that, few translations of Humor are to be found. - -The translators of foreign tongues choose first the philosophy, the -fiction or the serious poetry of the other nations, leaving the humor, -if any there be, to hang unplucked on the tree of knowledge. - -So the foreign material is scant, but the high spots are touched as far -as could be found convenient. - -The Outline stops at the year 1900. Humor since then is too close to be -viewed in proper perspective. - -But the present Outliner mainly hopes to show how, with steady -footstep, from the Caveman to the current comics Humor has followed the -Flag. - - C. W. - NEW YORK, - _April, 1923_. - - - - - ACKNOWLEDGMENTS - - -All rights on poems and prose in this volume are reserved by the -authorized publisher, the author, or the holder of copyright, with whom -special arrangements have been made for including such material in this -work. The editor expresses thanks for such permission as indicated -below. - -D. APPLETON & COMPANY: For “To a Mosquito” by William Cullen Bryant; -“Tushmaker’s Tooth-Puller” by G. H. Derby; and for “The Sad End of Brer -Wolf” by Joel C. Harris, from _Uncle Remus, His Songs and His Sayings_. - -THE CENTURY CO.: For an extract from the “Chimmie Fadden” stories; and -for the poem “What’s in a Name?” by R. K. Munkittrick. - -DAVID MCKAY COMPANY: For “Ballad of the Noble Ritter Hugo” by Charles -G. Leland. - -DODD, MEAD AND COMPANY: For “At the Sign of the Cock” by Owen Seaman; -“Here Is the Tale” by Anthony C. Deane; and “On a Fan” and “The -Rondeau” by Austin Dobson. - -FORBES & COMPANY: For “If I Should Die To-Night” and “The Pessimist” by -Ben King. - -HARPER & BROTHERS: For “Elegy” and “Mavrone” by Arthur Guiterman. With -the permission of the Estate of Samuel L. Clemens, the Mark Twain -Company, and Harper & Brothers, publishers, with a full reservation of -all copyright privileges is included an extract from the “Jumping Frog” -by Mark Twain. - -HURST & COMPANY: For an extract from “Bill Nye.” - -HOUGHTON MIFFLIN COMPANY: With their permission and by special -arrangement with them as authorized publishers of the following -authors’ works, are used selections from: Charles E. Carryl, Guy -Wetmore Carryl, Ralph Waldo Emerson, James T. Fields, Bret Harte, John -Hay, Oliver Wendell Holmes, James Russell Lowell, John G. Saxe, E. R. -Sill, Bayard Taylor. - -LITTLE, BROWN & COMPANY: For five limericks and “The Two Old Bachelors” -from _Nonsense Books_. - -LOTHROP, LEE & SHEPARD CO.: For “A Philosopher” by Sam Walter Foss from -_Dreams in Homespun_; also for an extract from “The Partington Papers” -by B. P. Shillaber. - -THE MACMILLAN COMPANY: For verses from _Through the Looking-Glass_ by -Lewis Carroll. - -CHARLES SCRIBNER’S SONS: For “Two Men” and “Miniver Cheevy” by E. A. -Robinson from _The Children of the Night_ and _The Town Down the River_. - -SMALL, MAYNARD & COMPANY: For an extract from Finley Peter Dunne (Mr. -Dooley). - - - - - CONTENTS - - - PAGE - - INTRODUCTION 3 - - ANCIENT HUMOR 21 - - MIDDLE DIVISION 43 - - PART I. GREECE 43 - - PART II. ROME 86 - - PART III. MEDIÆVAL AGES 120 - - MODERN HUMOR 253 - - ENGLISH WIT AND HUMOR 253 - - FRENCH WIT AND HUMOR 312 - - GERMAN WIT AND HUMOR 337 - - ITALIAN WIT AND HUMOR 343 - - SPANISH WIT AND HUMOR 359 - - THE SEVENTEENTH CENTURY 364 - - ENGLISH HUMOR 364 - - FRENCH HUMOR 390 - - GERMAN HUMOR 412 - - THE EIGHTEENTH CENTURY 415 - - THE NINETEENTH CENTURY 445 - - ENGLISH HUMOR 446 - - FRENCH HUMOR 560 - - GERMAN HUMOR 586 - - ITALIAN HUMOR 616 - - SPANISH HUMOR 626 - - RUSSIAN HUMOR 631 - - AMERICAN HUMOR 643 - - INDEX 761 - - - - - An Outline of Humor - - - - - INTRODUCTION - - -Speaking exactly, an Outline of the World’s Humor is an impossibility. - -For surely the adjectives most applicable to humor are elusive, -evasive, evanescent, ephemeral, intangible, imponderable, and other -terms expressing unavailability. - -To outline such a thing is like trying to trap a sunbeam or bound an -ocean. - -Yet an Outline of the History of the World’s recorded humor as evolved -by the Human Race, seems within the possibilities. - -First of all, it must be understood that the term humor is here used in -its broadest, most comprehensive sense. Including both wit and humor; -including the comic, fun, mirth, laughter, gayety, repartee,--all types -and classes of jests and jokes. - -The earliest reference to this mental element is that of Aristotle, and -the word he uses to represent it is translated the Ridiculous. - -His definition states that the Ridiculous is that which is in itself -incongruous, without involving the notion of danger or pai - -Coleridge thus refers to Aristotle’s definition: - - “Where the laughable is its own end, and neither inference nor - moral is intended, or where at least the writer would wish it - so to appear, there arises what we call drollery. The pure, - unmixed, ludicrous or laughable belongs exclusively to the - understanding, and must be presented under the form of the - senses; it lies within the spheres of the eye and the ear, and - hence is allied to the fancy. It does not appertain to the - reason or the moral sense, and accordingly is alien to the - imagination. I think Aristotle has already excellently defined - the laughable, τò γελοíον, as consisting of, or depending - on, what is out of its proper time and place, yet without - danger or pain. Here the _impropriety_--τò ἄτοπον--is the - positive qualification; the _dangerlessness_--τò ἀχίνδυνον--the - negative. The true ludicrous is its own end. When serious satire - commences, or satire that is felt as serious, however comically - drest, free and genuine laughter ceases; it becomes sardonic. - This you experience in reading Young, and also not unfrequently - in Butler. The true comic is the blossom of the nettle.” - -Yet, notwithstanding Coleridge’s scientific views on the subject, Humor -is not an exact science. It is, more truly, an art, whose principles -are based on several accepted theories, and some other theories, not so -readily accepted or admitted only in part by these who have thought and -written on the subject. - -A true solution of the mystery of why a joke makes us laugh, has yet to -be found. To the mind of the average human being, anything that makes -him laugh is a joke. Why it does so, there are very few to know and -fewer still to care. - -Nor are the Cognoscenti in much better plight. A definition of humor -has been attempted by many great and wise minds. Like squaring the -circle, it has been argued about repeatedly, it has been written about -voluminously. It has been settled in as many different ways as there -have been commentators on the subject. And yet no definition, no -formula has ever been evolved that is entirely satisfactory. - -Aristotle’s theory of the element of the incongruous has come to be -known as the Disappointment theory, or Frustrated Expectation. - -But Aristotle voiced another theory, which he, in turn, derived from -Plato. - -Plato said, though a bit indefinitely, that the pleasure we derive in -laughing at the comic is an enjoyment of other people’s misfortune, -due to a feeling of superiority or gratified vanity that we ourselves -are not in like plight. - -This is called the Derision theory, and as assimilated and expressed -by Aristotle comes near to impinging on and coinciding with his own -Disappointment theory. - -Moreover, he attempted to combine the two. - -For, he said, we always laugh at someone, but in the case, where -laughter arises from a deceived expectation, our mistake makes us laugh -at ourselves. - -In fact, Plato held, in his vague and indefinite statements that there -is a disappointment element, a satisfaction element, and sometimes a -combination of the two in the make-up of the thing we are calling Humor. - -All of which is not very enlightening, but it is to be remembered that -those were the first fluttering flights of imagination that sought to -pin down the whole matter; yet among the scores that have followed, -diverging in many directions, we must admit few, if any, are much more -succinct or satisfactory. - -The Derision or Discomfiture Theory holds that all pleasure in laughing -at a comic scene is an enjoyment of another’s discomfiture. Yet it must -be only discomfiture, not grave misfortune or sorrow. - -If a man’s hat blows off and he runs out into the street after it, we -laugh; but if he is hit by a passing motor car, we do not laugh. If a -fat man slips on a banana peel and lands in a mud puddle, we laugh; but -if he breaks his leg we do not laugh. - -It is the ridiculous discomfiture of another that makes a joke, not the -serious accident, and though there are other types and other theories -of the cause of humor, doubtless the majority of jokes are based on -this principle. - -From the Circus Clown to Charlie Chaplin, episodes of discomfiture -make us laugh. Every newspaper cartoon or comic series hinges on the -discomfiture of somebody. The fly on the bald head, the collar button -under the bureau, the henpecked husband, all depend for their humor on -the trifling misfortune that makes its victim ridiculous. - -An enjoyment of this discomfiture of a fellow man is inherent in human -nature, and though there are subtler jests, yet this type has a grip on -the risibilities that can never be loosened. - -Can we doubt that it was the Serpent’s laughing at the discomfiture of -Adam and Eve, caught in _deshabille_, that caused them to rush for -the nearest fig tree? Or perhaps, their eyes being opened, they laughed -at one another. Anyway, they were decidedly discomfited, and did their -best to remedy matters. - -This Derision Theory includes also the jests at the ignorance or -stupidity of another. The enormous vogue of the Noodle jokes, some -centuries ago, hinged on the delight felt in the superiority of the -hearer over the subject of the jest. All laughable blunders, every -social _faux pas_, all funny stories of children’s sayings and -doings are based on the consciousness of superiority. Practical jokes -represent the simplest form of this theory, as in them the discomfiture -of the other person is the prime element, with no subtle byplay to -relieve it. - -A mild example is the polite rejoinder of the street car conductor when -a lady asked at which end of the car she should get off. - -“Either end, madame,” he responded, “both ends stop.” - -An extreme specimen is the man who told the story of a burning -house--“I saw a fellow up on the roof,” he related, “and I called to -him, ‘Jump, and I’ll catch you in a blanket!’ Well, I had to laugh,--he -jumped,--and I didn’t have no blanket!” - -Implied discomfiture is in the story of the agnostic, who was buried -in his evening clothes. “Poor Jim,” said a funeral guest; “he didn’t -believe in Heaven and he didn’t believe in Hell; and there he lies, all -dressed up and no place to go!” - -Almost a practical joke is the man who, reading a newspaper, suddenly -exclaimed, “Why, here’s a list of people who won’t eat onions any -more!” And when his hearer asked to see the list, he handed over the -obituary column. - -The Disappointment Theory, though overlapping the Derision Theory at -times, is based on the idea that the essence of the laughable is the -incongruous. - -Hazlitt says: - - “We laugh at absurdity; we laugh at deformity. We laugh at - a bottle-nose in a caricature; at a stuffed figure of an - alderman in a pantomime, and at the tale of Slaukenbergius. - A dwarf standing by a giant makes a contemptible figure - enough. Rosinante and Dapple are laughable from contrast, as - their masters from the same principle make two for a pair. - We laugh at the dress of foreigners, and they at ours. Three - chimney-sweepers meeting three Chinese in Lincoln’s Inn Fields, - they laughed at one another till they were ready to drop down. - Country people laugh at a person because they never saw him - before. Any one dressed in the height of the fashion, or quite - out of it, is equally an object of ridicule. One rich source of - the ludicrous is distress with which we cannot sympathize from - its absurdity or insignificance. It is hard to hinder children - from laughing at a stammerer, at a negro, at a drunken man, - or even at a madman. We laugh at mischief. We laugh at what - we do not believe. We say that an argument or an assertion - that is very absurd, is quite ludicrous. We laugh to show our - satisfaction with ourselves, or our contempt for those about - us, or to conceal our envy or our ignorance. We laugh at fools, - and at those who pretend to be wise--at extreme simplicity, - awkwardness, hypocrisy, and affectation.” - -A beautiful definition of the Disappointment Theory is Max Eastman’s, -“The experience of a forward motion of interest sufficiently definite -so that its ‘coming to nothing’ can be felt.” - -Mr. Eastman says further: - - “It is more like a reflex action than a mental result. It - arises in the very act of perception, when that act is brought - to nothing by two conflicting qualities of fact or feeling. It - arises when some numb habitual activity, suddenly obstructed, - first appears in consciousness with an announcement of its - own failure. The blockage of an instinct, a collision between - two instincts, the interruption of a habit, a ‘conflict of - habit systems,’ a disturbed or misapplied reflex--all these - catastrophes, as well as the coming to nothing of an effort - at conceptual thought, must enter into the meaning of the - word _disappointment_, if it is to explain the whole field of - practical humor. The ‘strain’ in that expectation is what makes - it capable of humorous collapse. It is an active expectation. - The feelings are involved.” - -The point of the Disappointment Theory, that of frustrating a carefully -built up expectation is exemplified in jests like these. - -“Is your wife entertaining this winter?” asks one society man of -another. “Not very,” is the reply. - -“I have to go to Brooklyn--” says a perplexed-looking old lady to a -traffic policeman. “Are you asking directions, ma’am, or just telling -me your troubles?” - -The incongruity may be merely a collocution of words. - -Mark Twain described Turner’s Slave Ship as “A tortoise-shell cat -having a fit in a platter of tomatoes.” - -In a newspaper cartoon, a wife says to her husband, “Even if it is -Sunday morning and a terribly hot day, that’s no reason you should go -around looking like the dog’s breakfast!” - -So we see the element of surprise must be combined with the element of -appropriate inappropriateness to gain the desired result. - -In this story expectation is aroused for a human tragedy. The -incongruity and disappointment make its humor. - -As Mr. Caveman was gnawing at a bone in his cave one morning, Mrs. -Caveman rushed in, exclaiming, “Quick! get your club! Oh, quick!” - -“What’s the matter?” growled Mr. Caveman. - -“A sabre-toothed tiger is chasing mother!” gasped his wife. - -Mr. Caveman uttered an expression of annoyance. - -“And what the deuce do I care,” he said, “what happens to a -sabre-toothed tiger?” - -It must be admitted that a hard and fast line cannot be drawn between -the two theories given us by the Greek philosophers. - -Cicero subscribed to the Derision theory, and said the ridiculous -rested on a certain meanness and deformity, and a joke to be pleasing -must be _on_ somebody. But he declared, also, that the most -eminent kind of the ridiculous is that in which we expect to hear one -thing and hear another said. - -Several other Greek and Roman philosophers tackled the subject without -adding anything of importance, and some of them, as well as later -writers declared that the comic could never be defined, but is to be -appreciated only by taste and natural discernment; while many moderns -agree that all theories are inadequate and contradictory, however -useful they may be for convenience in discussion. - -Perhaps the trouble may be that only serious-minded people attempt a -definition of humor, and they are not the ones best fitted for the work. - -For the discussion goes on still, and is as fascinating to some types -of mentality as is the question of perpetual motion or the Fountain of -Immortal Youth. - -A useful commentary on the matter, and one appropriate at this juncture -is the following extract from the works of the celebrated theologian, -Dr. Isaac Barrow, an Englishman of the Seventeenth century. - - “It may be demanded,” says he, “what the thing we speak of is, - and what this facetiousness doth import; to which question I - might reply, as Democritus did to him that asked the definition - of a man--_’Tis that which we all see and know!_ and one better - apprehends what it is by acquaintance, than I can inform him by - description. It is indeed a thing so versatile and multiform, - appearing in so many shapes, so many postures, so many garbs, - so variously apprehended by several eyes and judgments, that - it seemeth no less hard to settle a clear and certain notice - thereof, than to make a portrait of Proteus, or to define the - figure of fleeting air. Sometimes it lieth in pat allusion to a - known story, or in seasonable application of a trivial saying, - or in forging an apposite tale; sometimes it playeth in words - and phrases, taking advantage from the ambiguity of their sense, - or the affinity of their sound; sometimes it is wrapped in a - dress of luminous expression; sometimes it lurketh under an - odd similitude. Sometimes it is lodged in a sly question; in - a smart answer; in a quirkish reason; in a shrewd intimation; - in cunningly diverting or cleverly restoring an objection; - sometimes it is couched in a bold scheme of speech; in a tart - irony; in a lusty hyperbole; in a startling metaphor; in a - plausible reconciling of contradictions; or in acute nonsense. - Sometimes a scenical representation of persons or things, a - counterfeit speech, a mimical look or gesture, passeth for it. - Sometimes an affected simplicity, sometimes a presumptuous - bluntness, gives it being. Sometimes it riseth only from a - lucky hitting upon what is strange; sometimes from a crafty - wresting obvious matter to the purpose. Often it consisteth in - one knows not what, and springeth up one can hardly tell how. - Its ways are unaccountable and inexplicable, being answerable - to the numberless rovings of fancy and windings of language. It - is, in short, a manner of speaking out of the simple and plain - way (such as reason teacheth and knoweth things by), which - by a pretty surprising uncouthness in conceit or expression - doth affect and amuse the fancy, showing in it some wonder, - and breathing some delight thereto. It raiseth admiration, as - signifying a nimble sagacity of apprehension, a special felicity - of invention, a vivacity of spirit, and reach of wit more than - vulgar; it seeming to argue a rare quickness of parts, that - one can fetch in remote conceits applicable; a notable skill - that he can dexterously accommodate them to a purpose before - him; together with a lively briskness of humour not apt to damp - those sportful flashes of imagination. Whence in Aristotle such - persons are termed επιδéξιοι, dexterous men, and ευτροποι, men - of facile and versatile manners, who can easily turn themselves - to all things, or turn all things to themselves. It also - procureth delight, by gratifying curiosity with its rareness or - semblance of difficulty (as monsters, not for their beauty but - their rarity--as juggling tricks, not for their use but their - abstruseness--are beheld with pleasure); by diverting the mind - from its road of serious thoughts; by instilling gaiety and - airiness of spirit; by provoking to such dispositions of spirit - in way of emulation or compliance; and by seasoning matter, - otherwise distasteful or insipid, with an unusual and thence - grateful tang.”--_Barrow’s Works_, Sermon 14. - -Also in the Seventeenth century there sprang into being a definition -that has lived, possibly because of the apt wording of its phrase. - -It is by Thomas Hobbes, who declared for the Derision Theory, but with -less sweetness and light than it had hitherto enjoyed. - - “_Sudden glory_ is the passion which maketh those _Grimaces_ - called LAUGHTER,” said Hobbes in the “Leviathan,” “and is - caused either by some sudden act of their own, that pleaseth - them; or by the apprehension of some deformed thing in another, - by comparison whereof they suddenly applaud themselves. And - it is incident most to them, that are conscious of the fewest - abilities in themselves; who are forced to keep themselves in - their own favour, by observing the imperfections of other men. - And therefore much laughter at the defects of others, is a signe - of Pusillanimity. For of great minds, one of the proper workes - is, to help and free others from scorn; and compare themselves - onely with the most able.” - -and, also from Hobbes: - - “The passion of laughter is nothing else but _sudden glory_ - arising from a sudden conception of some _eminency in ourselves_ - by comparison with the infirmity of others, or with our own - formerly: for men laugh at the _follies_ of themselves past, - when they come suddenly to remembrance, except they bring with - them any present dishonour.”--_Treatise on Human Nature_, chap. - ix. - -There is small doubt that the vogue of Hobbes’ definition of this -theory rests on the delightfully expressive, “Sudden Glory,” for those -two words beautifully picture the emotion caused by the unexpected -opportunity to laugh at the discomfiture of another. - -Locke followed with a dry and meaningless dissertation, and Coleridge -wrote his discerning but all too brief remarks. - -Many German writers gave profound if unimportant opinions. - -Addison wrote pleasantly about it, and George Meredith, while accepting -the Derision Theory, modified its harshness thus: - - “If you believe that our civilization is founded in common-sense - (and it is the first condition of sanity to believe it), you - will, when contemplating men, discern a Spirit overhead; - not more heavenly than the light flashed upward from glassy - surfaces, but luminous and watchful; never shooting beyond - them, nor lagging in the rear; so closely attached to them that - it may be taken for a slavish reflex, until its features are - studied. It has the sage’s brows, and the sunny malice of a faun - lurks at the corners of the half-closed lips drawn in an idle - wariness of half tension. That slim feasting smile, shaped like - the long-bow, was once a big round satyr’s laugh, that flung up - the brows like a fortress lifted by gunpowder. The laugh will - come again, but it will be of the order of the smile, finely - tempered, showing sunlight of the mind, mental richness rather - than noisy enormity. Its common aspect is one of unsolicitous - observation, as if surveying a full field and having leisure to - dart on its chosen morsels without any fluttering eagerness. - Men’s future upon earth does not attract it; their honesty and - shapeliness in the present does; and whenever they wax out of - proportion, overblown, affected, pretentious, bombastical, - hypocritical, pedantic, fantastically delicate; whenever it - sees them self-deceived or hoodwinked, given to run riot in - idolatries, drifting into vanities, congregating in absurdities, - planning shortsightedly, plotting dementedly; whenever they are - at variance with their professions, and violate the unwritten - but perceptible laws binding them in consideration one to - another; whenever they offend sound reason, fair justice; are - false in humility or mined with conceit, individually, or in the - bulk--the Spirit overhead will look humanely malign and cast an - oblique light on them, followed by volleys of silvery laughter. - That is the Comic Spirit.” - - -With Kant, however, the other theory of Aristotle came into notice. -Kant declared, “Laughter is the affection arising from the sudden -transformation of a strained expectation into nothing.” - -This was dubbed by Emerson, “Frustrated Expectation,” and describes the -Disappointment Theory as Sudden Glory describes the Derision Theory. - -On these two commandments hang all the law and the prophets of the -World of Humor. - -There are many other theories and sub-theories, there are long and -prosy books written about them, but are outside our Outline. - -A general understanding of the humorous element is all we are after and -that has now been set forth. - - * * * * * - -A question closely akin to What is Humor? is What is a Sense of Humor? - -The phrase seems self-explanatory, and is by no means identical with -the thing itself. Nor are the two inseparable. Humor and the sense of -humor need not necessarily lie in the same brain. - -Two erudite writers on this subject have chosen to consider the phrase -as a unique bit of terminology. - -Mr. Max Eastman says; “The creation of that name is the most original -and the most profound contribution of modern thought to the problem of -the comic.” - -While Professor Brander Matthews says; “Ample as the English vocabulary -is today, it is sometimes strangely deficient in needful terms. Thus it -is that we have nothing but the inadequate phrase _sense of humor_ -to denominate a quality which is often confounded with humor itself, -and which should always be sharply discriminated from it.” - -Now it would seem that the phrase was simply a matter of evolution, -coming along when the time was ripe. Surely it is no stroke of genius, -nor yet is it hopelessly inadequate. - -It must be granted that a sense of the humorous is as logical a thought -as a sensitive ear for music, or, to be more strictly analogous, a -sense of moderation or that very definite thing, card sense. - -Sense, used thus, is almost synonymous with taste, and a taste for -literature or for the Fine Arts in no way implies a productive faculty -in those fields. A taste for humor would mean precisely the same thing -as a sense of humor, and the taste or the sense may be more or less -natural and more or less cultivated, as in the matter of books or -pictures. - -A taste for music is a sense of music, and one may appreciate and enjoy -music and its rendition to the utmost without being able to sing a note -or play upon any instrument whatever. - -One may be a music critic or an art critic, or even a critic of -literature, without being able to create any of these things. - -Why, then, put forth as a discovery that one may have a sense of humor -without being humorous and _vice versa_? - -Humor is creative, while the sense of humor is merely receptive and -appreciative. - -Many great humorists have little or no sense of humor. Try to tell -a joke to an accredited joker and note his blank expression of -uncomprehension. It is because he has no sense of humor that he takes -himself seriously. - -Such was the case with Dickens, with Carlyle, with many renowned wits. -The humorist without the sense of humor is a bore. He tells long, -detailed yarns, proud of himself, and not seeing his hearers’ lack of -interest. - -The man with a sense of humor is a joy to know and to be with. - -The man who possesses both is already an immortal. - -Now as the sense of humor is negative, recipient, while humor is -positive and creative, it follows that a sense of humor alone cannot -produce humorous literature. - -These mute, inglorious Miltons, therefore, have no place in our -Outline, but they deserve a passing word of recognition for the -assistance they have been to the humorists, by way of being applauding -audiences. - -For humor, like beauty is in the eye of the beholder. One with an -acute sense of humor will see comic in stones, wit in the running -brooks,--while a dull or absent sense of humor can see no fun save in -the obvious jest. - -The lines, - - “A jest’s prosperity lies in the ear - Of him who hears it. Never in the tongue - Of him who makes it.” - -in _Love’s Labour’s Lost_ proves that Shakespeare understood the -meaning and value of a sense of humor. - -Although it was at a much later date that the word humor came to be -used as now, to mean a gentle, good-natured sort of fun. - -All types of humor are universal and of all time. But the first -definitions were arrived at by the men of Greece and Rome, who were -scholarly and analytical, hence the hair-splitting and meticulous -efforts to treat it metaphysically. - -Humor today rarely is used in a caustic or biting sense,--that is -reserved for wit. - -Which brings us to another great and futile question,--the distinction -between wit and humor. - -There is not time or space to take up this subject fully here. But we -can sum up the decisions and opinions of some few of the thinking minds -that have been bent upon it. - -As the best and most comprehensive is the dissertation by William -Hazlitt, most of this is here given. - - “Humour is the describing the ludicrous as it is in itself; - wit is the exposing it, by comparing or contrasting it with - something else. Humour is, as it were, the growth of nature - and accident; wit is the product of art and fancy. Humour, - as it is shown in books, is an imitation of the natural or - acquired absurdities of mankind, or of the ludicrous in - accident, situation, and character; wit is the illustrating - and heightening the sense of that absurdity by some sudden and - unexpected likeness or opposition of one thing to another, which - sets off the quality we laugh at or despise in a still more - contemptible or striking point of view. Wit, as distinguished - from poetry, is the imagination or fancy inverted and so applied - to given objects, as to make the little look less, the mean - more light and worthless; or to divert our admiration or wean - our affections from that which is lofty and impressive, instead - of producing a more intense admiration and exalted passion, as - poetry does. Wit may sometimes, indeed, be shown in compliments - as well as satire; as in the common epigram-- - - “‘Accept a miracle, instead of wit: See two dull lines with - Stanhope’s pencil writ.’ - - But then the mode of paying it is playful and ironical, and - contradicts itself in the very act of making its own performance - an humble foil to another’s. Wit hovers round the borders of - the light and trifling, whether in matters of pleasure or pain; - for as soon as it describes the serious seriously, it ceases - to be wit, and passes into a different form. Wit is, in fact, - the eloquence of indifference, or an ingenious and striking - exposition of those evanescent and glancing impressions of - objects which affect us more from surprise or contrast to the - train of our ordinary and literal preconceptions, than from - anything in the objects themselves exciting our necessary - sympathy or lasting hatred. - - “That wit is the most refined and effectual, which is founded on - the detection of unexpected likeness or distinction in things, - rather than in words. - - “Wit is, in fact, a voluntary act of the mind, or exercise of - the invention, showing the absurd and ludicrous consciously, - whether in ourselves or another. Cross-readings, where the - blunders are designed, are wit; but if any one were to light - upon them through ignorance or accident, they would be merely - ludicrous. - - “Lastly, there is a wit of sense and observation, which consists - in the acute illustration of good sense and practical wisdom by - means of some far-fetched conceit or quaint imagery. The matter - is sense, but the form is wit. Thus the lines in Pope-- - - “’Tis with our judgments as our watches, none Go just alike; yet - each believes his own--’ - - are witty rather than poetical; because the truth they convey - is a mere dry observation on human life, without elevation or - enthusiasm, and the illustration of it is of that quaint and - familiar kind that is merely curious and fanciful.” - -Thus Hazlitt: yet it is not necessary to be so verbose in the matter of -discriminating wit from humor. - -They are intrinsically different though often outwardly alike. - -Wit is intensive or incisive, while humor is expansive. Wit is rapid, -humor is slow. Wit is sharp, humor is gentle. Wit is intentional, humor -is fortuitous. - -But to my mind the great difference lies in the fact that wit is -subjective while humor is objective. - -Wit is the invention of the mind of its creator; humor lies in the -object that he observes. Wit originates in one’s self, humor outside -one’s self. - -Again, wit is art, humor is nature. Wit is creative fancy, more or -less educated and skilled. Humor is found in a simple object, and is -unintentional. - -Yet in these, as in all definitions, we must stretch a point when -necessary; we must make allowances for viewpoints and opinions, and we -must agree that the question is not one that may be answered by the -card. - -Nor is it necessary in the present undertaking. - -_An Outline of Humor_ is planned to include all sorts and -conditions of fun, all types and distinctions of wit and humor from the -earliest available records, or deductions from records, down to the -dawn of the Twentieth Century. - - * * * * * - -Man has been defined as the animal capable of laughter. Although this -definition has been attacked by lovers of quadrupeds, it has held -in the minds of thinkers and students. Aristotle, Milton, Hazlitt, -Voltaire, Schopenhauer, Bergson and many other distinguished scholars -hold that the playfulness seen in animals is in no way an indication of -their sense of humor. - -The Laughing Hyena and the Laughing Jackass are so called only because -their cry has a likeness to the sound of raucous human laughter, but it -is no result of mirthful feeling. - -Hazlitt says man is the only animal that laughs and weeps, for he is -the only animal that is struck with the difference between what things -are and what they ought to be. - -The playfulness of dogs or kittens is often assumed to be humor, when -it is mere imitative sagacity. The stolid, imperturbable gravity of -animals’ faces shows no appreciation of mirth. - -Oliver Wendell Holmes speaks of the large brown eyes of oxen as -imperfect organisms, because they may show no sign of fun. - -Yet it is, in a way, a matter of opinion, for the instinct of humor was -among the latest to evolve in the human race, and rudimentary hints of -it may be present in other animals as in our own children. A monkey -or a baby will show amusement when tickled, but this is mere physical -reflex action, and cannot be called a true sense of humor. - -Many animal lovers assume intelligences in their pets that are mere -reflections of their own mental processes or are thoughts fathered by -their own wishes. - -It is, however, of little importance, for however appreciative of fun -an animal may be, it cannot create or impart wit or humor, and most -certainly it cannot laugh. - -Bergson goes even farther. He declares the comic does not exist outside -the pale of what is strictly human. - -He states: You may laugh at an animal, but only because you have -detected in it some human attitude or expression. - -This is easily proved by the recollection of the fun of Puss In Boots -or The Three Bears, and the gravity of a Natural History. - -Therefore, Bergson argues, man is not only the only animal that laughs, -he is the only animal which is laughed at, for if any other animal -or any lifeless object provokes mirth, it is only because of some -resemblance to man in appearance or intent. - -So, with such minor exceptions as to be doubtful or negligible, we must -accept man as the only exponent or possessor of humor. - -And it is one of the latest achievements of humanity. - -First, we assent, was the survival of the fittest. Followed a sense -of hunger, a sense of safety, a sense of warfare, a sense of Tribal -Rights,--through all these stages there was no time or need for humor. - -Among the earliest fossilized remains no funny bone has been found. - -Doubtless, too, a sense of sorrow came before the sense of humor -dawned. Death came, and early man wept long before it occurred to him -to laugh and have the world laugh with him. Gregariousness and leisure -were necessary before mirth could ensue. All life was subjective; -dawning intelligence learned first to look out for Number One. - -Yet it was early in the game that our primordial ancestors began to see -a lighter side of life. - -Indeed, as Mr. Wells tells us, they mimicked very cleverly, gestured, -danced and laughed before they could talk! - -And the consideration of the development of this almost innate human -sense is our present undertaking. - -The matter falls easily,--almost too easily,--into three divisions. - -Let us call them, Ancient, Middle and Modern. - -This is perhaps not an original idea of division, but it is certainly -the best for a preliminary arrangement. And it may not be convenient to -stick religiously to consecutive dates; our progress may become logical -rather than chronological. - -As to a general division, then, let us consider Ancient Humor as a -period from the very beginning down to the time of the Greeks. The -Middle Division to continue until about the time of Chaucer. And the -Modern Period from that time to the present. - - - - - ANCIENT HUMOR - -After careful consideration of all available facts and theories of the -earliest mental processes of our race, we must come to the conclusion -that mirth had its origin in sorrow; that laughter was the direct -product of tears. - -Nor are they even yet completely dissevered. Who has not laughed till -he cried? Who has not cried herself into hysterical laughter? All -theories of humor include an element of unhappiness; all joy has its -hint of pain. - -And so, when our archæologists hold the mirror up to prehistoric -nature, we see among the earliest reflected pictures, a procession -or group of evolving humanity about to sacrifice human victims to -their monstrous superstitions and, withal, showing a certain festival -cheerfulness. Moreover, we note that they are fantastically dressed, -and wear horns and painted masks. Surely, the first glimmerings of a -horrid mirth are indubitably the adjunct of such celebrations. - -Since we have reason to believe that man mimicked before he could -talk,--and, observing a baby, we have no difficulty in believing -this,--we readily believe that his earliest mimicries aroused a feeling -of amusement in his auditors, and as their applause stimulated him to -fresh effort, the ball was set rolling and the fun began. - -From mimicry was born exaggeration and the horns and painted masks were -grotesque and mirth-provoking. - -Yet were they also used to inculcate fear, and moreover had -significance as expressions of sorrow and woe. - -Thus the emotions, at first, were rather inextricably intermingled, nor -are they yet entirely untangled and straightened out. - -Not to inquire too closely into the vague stories of these prehistoric -men, not to differentiate too exactly between Cro-Magnards and -Grimaldis, we at least know a few things about the late Palæolithic -people, and one indicative fact is that they had a leaning toward paint. - -They buried their dead after painting the body, and they also painted -the weapons and ornaments that were interred with him. - -It is owing to this addiction to paint that scientists have been -enabled to learn so much of primordial life, for the pigments of black, -brown, red, yellow and white still endure in the caves of France and -Spain. - -And, since it is known that they painted their own faces and bodies we -can scarce help deducing that they presented grotesque appearances and -moved their fellows to laughter. - -But any earnest thinker or student is very likely to get out of his -subject what he brings to it, at least, in kind. And so, archæologists -and antiquarians, being of grave and serious nature, have found no fun -or humor in these early peoples,--perhaps, because they brought none to -their search. - -It remains, therefore, for us to sift their findings, and see, if by a -good chance we may discover some traces of mirth among the evidential -remains of prehistoric man. - -It would not be, of course, creative or even intentional humor, but -since we know he was a clever mimic, we must assume the appreciation of -his mimicry by his fellows. - -Moreover, he was deeply impressed by his dreams, and it must have been -that some of those dreams were of a humorous nature. - -We are told his mentality was similar to that of a bright little -contemporary boy of five. This theory would give him the power of -laughter at simple things and it seems only fair to assume that he -possessed it. - -In the beginnings of humanity there was very close connection between -man and the animals. Not only did man kill and eat the other animals, -but he cultivated and bred them, he watched them and studied their -habits. - -It is, therefore, not surprising that man’s earliest efforts at drawing -should represent animals. - -The earliest known drawings, those of the Palæolithic men show the -bison, horse, ibex, cave bear and reindeer. The drawing at first was -primitive, but later it became astonishingly clever and life-like. - -Also, among these primitive peoples, there was some attempt at -sculpture, in the way of little stone or ivory statuettes. These -incline to caricature, and are probably the first dawning of that -tendency of the human brain. - -Yet the accounts of these earliest men show little that can be -definitely styled humorous, and while we cannot doubt they possessed -a sense of mirth, they have left us scant traces of it, or else the -solemn archæologists have overlooked such. - -The latter may be the case, for a scholar with a sense of humor, Thomas -Wright, declares as follows: - - “A tendency to burlesque and caricature appears, indeed, to be - a feeling deeply implanted in human nature, and it is one of - the earliest talents displayed by people in a rude state of - society. An appreciation of, and sensitiveness to, ridicule, and - a love of that which is humorous, are found even among savages, - and enter largely into their relations with their fellow men. - When, before people cultivated either literature or art, the - chieftain sat in his rude hall surrounded by his warriors, - they amused themselves by turning their enemies and opponents - into mockery, by laughing at their weaknesses, joking on their - defects, whether physical or mental, and giving them nicknames - in accordance therewith,--in fact, caricaturing them in words, - or by telling stories which were calculated to excite laughter. - When the agricultural slaves (for the tillers of the land were - then slaves) were indulged with a day of relief from their - labours, they spent it in unrestrained mirth. And when these - same people began to erect permanent buildings, and to ornament - them, the favourite subjects of their ornamentation were such - as presented ludicrous ideas. The warrior, too, who caricatured - his enemy in his speeches over the festive board, soon sought - to give a more permanent form to his ridicule, which he - endeavoured to do by rude delineations on the bare rock, or on - any other convenient surface which presented itself to his hand. - Thus originated caricature and the grotesque in art. In fact, - art itself, in its earliest forms, is caricature; for it is only - by that exaggeration of features which belongs to caricature, - that unskilful draughtsmen could make themselves understood.” - -An early development of humor was seen in the recognition of the fool -or buffoon. - -It is not impossible that this arose because of the discovery or -invention of intoxicating drinks. - -This important date is set, not very definitely, somewhere between -10,000 B.C. and 2,000 B.C. Its noticeable results were merriment and -feast-making. At these feasts the fool, who was not yet a wit, won the -laughter of the guests by his idiocy, or, often by his deformity. The -wise fool is a later development. - -But at these feasts also appeared the bards or rhapsodists, who -entertained the company by chanting or reciting stories and jokes. - -These are called the artists of the ear as the rock painters are -called the artists of the eye. And with them language grew in beauty -and power. They were living books, the only books then extant. For -writing came slowly and was a clumsy affair at best for a long period. -The Bards sang and recited and so kept alive folk-tales and jests that -remain to this day. - -Writing, like most of the inventions of man served every other purpose -before that of humor. - -At first it was only for accounts and matters of fact. In Egypt it was -used for medical recipes and magic formulas. Accounts, letters, name -lists and itineraries followed; but for the preservation of humorous -thought writing was not used. That was left to the bards, and of -course, to the caricaturists. - -Therefore, Egyptian art usually presents itself in solemn and dignified -effects with no lightness or gayety implied. - -Yet we are told by Sir Gardner Wilkinson, the early Egyptian artists -cannot always conceal their natural tendency to the humorous, which -creeps out in a variety of little incidents. Thus, in a series of grave -historical pictures on one of the great monuments at Thebes, we find -a representation of a wine party, where the company consists of both -sexes, and which evidently shows that the ladies were not restricted -in the use of the juice of the grape in their entertainments; and, -as he adds, “the painters, in illustrating this fact, have sometimes -sacrificed their gallantry to a love of caricature.” Among the females, -evidently of rank, represented in this scene, “some call the servants -to support them as they sit, others with difficulty prevent themselves -from falling on those behind them, and the faded flower, which is ready -to drop from their heated hands, is intended to be characteristic of -their own sensations.” Sir Gardner observes that “many instances of -a talent for caricature, are observable in the compositions of the -Egyptian artists, who executed the paintings of the tombs at Thebes, -which belong to a very early period of the Egyptian annals. Nor is the -application of this talent restricted always to secular subjects, but -we see it at times intruding into the most sacred mysteries of their -religion.” - -A class of caricatures which dates from a very remote period, shows -comparisons between men and the particular animals whose qualities they -possess. - -As brave as a lion, as faithful as a dog, as sly as a fox or as -swinish as a pig,--these things are all represented in these ancient -caricatures. - -More than a thousand years B.C. there was drawn on an Egyptian -papyrus a cat carrying a shepherd’s crook and driving a flock of geese. -This is but one section of a long picture, in which the animals are -often shown treating their human tyrants in the manner they are usually -treated by them. - -All sorts of animals are shown, in odd contortions and grotesque -attitudes, and not infrequently the scene or episode depicted refers to -the state or condition of the human soul after death. - -It is deduced that from these animal pictures arose the class -of stories called fables, in which animals are endued with human -attributes. - -And also connected with them is the belief in metempsychosis or the -transmission of the human soul into the body of an animal after death, -which is a strong factor in the primitive religions. - -Indeed, the intermingling of humans and animals is inherent in all art -and literature, as, instance the calling of Our Lord a Lamb, or the -Holy Ghost, a Dove. - -Or, as to this day we call our children lambs or kittens, or, slangily, -kids. As we still call a man an ass or a puppy; or a woman, a cat. - -An argument for evolution can perhaps be seen in the inevitable turning -back to the animals for a description or representation of human types. - -At any rate, early man used this sort of humor almost exclusively, and -so combined it with his serious thought, even his religions, that it -was a permanently interwoven thread. - -And the exaggeration of this mimicry of animals resulted in the -grotesque and from that to the monstrous, as the mind grew with what it -fed on, and caricature developed and progressed. - -Also, a subtler demonstration of dawning wit and humor is seen in the -deliberate and intentional burlesque of one picture by another. - -In the British Museum is an Egyptian papyrus showing a lion and a -unicorn playing chess, which is a caricature of a picture frequently -seen on ancient monuments. And in the Egyptian collection of the New -York Historical Society there is a slab of limestone, dating back three -thousand years, which depicts a lion, seated upon a throne as king. To -him, a fox, caricaturing a High Priest, offers a goose and a fan. This, -too, is a burlesque of a serious picture. - -Again, a lion is engaged in laying out the dead body of another animal, -and a hippopotamus is washing his hands in a water jar. - -One of these burlesque pictures shows a soul doomed to return to its -earthly home in the form of a pig. This picture, of such antiquity -that it deeply impressed the Greeks and Romans, is part of the -decoration of a king’s tomb. - -The ancient Egyptians, it may be gathered from their humorous pictures, -were not averse to looking on the wine when it was red. Several -delineations of Egyptian servants carrying home their masters after a -carouse, are graphic and convincing; while others, equally so, show -the convivial ones dancing, standing on their heads or belligerently -wrestling. - -The tombs of the ancient Egyptians abound in these representations of -over-merry occasions, and it all goes to prove the close connection in -the primitive mind of the emotions of grief and mirth. - -Yet, _The Book of the Dead_ that monument of Egyptian literature, -and the oldest in the world, contains only records of conquests and -a few stories and moral sayings,--not a trace of humor. That, in -ancient Egypt is represented solely by the ready and deft pencil of the -caricaturist. - - * * * * * - -Though humor came to them later, the earliest records of the Eastern -and Oriental countries show little or no traces of the comic. - -Indeed eminent authorities state that there is not a single element of -the amusing in the art or literature of the Babylonians or Assyrians. -It may be that the eminent authorities hadn’t a nose for nonsense, or -the statement may be true. We never shall know. - -But both these peoples had great skill in drawing and sculpture, and -though their records are chiefly historical or religious, we cannot -help feeling there may have been some jesting at somebody’s expense. - -However, there are no existing records of any sort, and we fear -the ancient Assyrians and Babylonians must go down in history as -serious-minded folk. - -The Hebrews show up much better. - -In recent years Renan and Carlyle both declared the Jewish race -possessed no sense of humor, but their opinions probably reflected -their own viewpoint. - -For the early examples of Hebrew Satire and Parody are distinctly -humorous both in intent and in effect. - -Parody is, of course, the direct outcome of the primeval passion for -mimicry. The first laugh-provoker was no doubt an exaggerated imitation -of some defect or peculiarity of another. And the development of the -art of amusement took centuries to get past that preliminary thought. - -The tendency to imitation was the impetus that turned the religious -hymns into ribaldry and wine-songs, and the religious or funeral -festivals into orgies of grotesque masquerading. - -And Hebrew literature is renowned for its parodies of serious matters -both of church and state. - -With this race, satire sprang from parody and grew and thrived rapidly. - -To quote from the learned Professor Chotzner: - - “Since the birth of Hebrew literature, many centuries ago, - satire has been one of its many characteristics. It is directed - against the foibles and follies of the miser, the hypocrite, - the profligate, the snob. The dull sermonizer, who puts his - congregation to sleep, fares badly, and even the pretty - wickednesses of the fair sex do not escape the hawk-eye of the - Hebrew satirist. The luxury and extravagance of the ‘Daughters - of Zion’ were attacked by no less a person than Isaiah himself; - but human nature, especially that of a feminine kind, was too - strong even for so eminent a prophet as he was, and there is no - reason to suppose that the lady of those days wore one trinket - the less in deference to his invective. - - “There are, in fact, several incidents mentioned here and there - in the pages of the Bible, which are decidedly of a satirical - nature. Most prominent among them are the two that refer - respectively to Bileam, who was sermonized by his ass, and to - Haman who, as the Prime Minister of Persia, had to do homage - publicly to Mordecai, the very man whom he greatly hated and - despised. Nay, we are told, that, by the irony of fate, Haman - himself ended his life on the exceptionally huge gallows which, - while in a humorous turn of mind, he had ordered to be erected - for the purpose of having executed thereon the object of his - intense hatred. - - “And again, there are two excellent satires to be found - respectively in the 14th chapter of Isaiah, and in the 18th - chapter of the 1st Book of Kings. In the first, one of the - mighty Babylonian potentates is held up to derision, on account - of the ignominious defeat he had sustained in his own dominions, - after he had been for a long time a great terror to contemporary - nations, living in various parts of the ancient world. Even the - trees of the forests are represented there as having mocked at - his fall, saying: ‘Since thou art laid down, no feller is come - up against us.’ In the second satire, the false prophets of Baal - are ridiculed by Elijah for having maimed their bodies, in order - to do thereby honour to a deity which is sometimes sarcastically - referred to in the Bible as being ‘the god of flies.’ - - “Delightfully satirical are also the two fables quoted in the - Bible in connection with _Jotham_ and _Nathan_, the Prophet. - These are commonly well-known, and no extracts from them need be - given here. - - “The satirical turn of mind manifested by Hebrew writers living - in Biblical times, has been transmitted by them as a legacy to - their descendants, who flourished in subsequent ages down to - the present day. The first among them was Ben Sira who, in 180 - B.C., wrote a book, some of the contents of which are satirical, - for there the vanity of contemporary women, and the arrogance - of some of the rich in the community are ridiculed with mild - sarcasm. - - “But much more keen was the sense of the satirical that was - possessed by some of the ancient Rabbis, who were among those - that brought into existence the vast and interesting Talmudical - literature. One of their satires, called ‘Tithes,’ runs as - follows:-- - - “In Palestine there once lived a widow with her two daughters, - whose only worldly possessions consisted of a little field. When - she began to plough it, a Jewish official quoted to her the - words of the lawgiver Moses: ‘Thou shalt not plough with ox and - ass together.’ When she began to sow, she was admonished in the - words of the same lawgiver not to sow the fields with two kinds - of seed. When she began to reap and pile up the stacks, she was - told that she must leave ‘gleanings,’ the poor man’s sheaf, and - the ‘corner.’ - - “When the harvest time came, she was informed that it was her - duty to give the priest’s share, consisting of the first and - second ‘tithes.’ She quietly submitted, and gave what was - demanded of her. Then she sold the field, and bought two young - ewes, in order that she might use their wool, and profit by - their offspring. But, as soon as the ewes gave birth to their - young, a priest came, and quoted to her the words of Moses: - ‘Give _me_ the first-born, for so the Lord hath ordained.’ Again - she submitted, and gave him the young. - - “When the time of shearing came, the priest again made his - appearance, and said to her that, according to the Law, she was - obliged to give him ‘the shoulder, the two cheeks, and the maw.’ - - “In a moment of despair, the widow said: ‘Let all the animals - be consecrated to the Lord!’ ‘In that case,’ answered the - priest, ‘they belong altogether to me; for the Lord hath said: - “Everything consecrated in Israel shall be thine.”’ So, he took - the sheep, and went his way, leaving the widow and her two - daughters in great distress, and bathed in tears!” - - - _A WIFE’S RUSE_ - - (A Rabbinical Tale) - - “There is a Rabbinical law which makes it obligatory upon every - Jewish husband to divorce his wife, if after ten years of - married life she shall remain childless. Now, there once lived - in an Oriental town a man and his wife who were greatly attached - to each other, but who had, unfortunately, no children, though - they had been married for a considerable time. - - “When the end of the tenth year of their marriage was - approaching, they both went to the Rabbi, and asked him for his - advice. The Rabbi listened with great sympathy, but declared - his inability to alter or modify the law in their favour. The - only suggestion, he said, that he could make, was, that on the - last night before their final separation, they should celebrate - a little feast together, and that the wife should take some - keepsake from her husband which would be a permanent token of - her husband’s unchangeable affection for her. - - “Thus, on the last night, the wife prepared a sumptuous meal - for the two of them, and, amidst much merriment and laughter, - she filled and refilled her husband’s goblet with sparkling - wine. Under its influence, he fell into a heavy sleep, and while - in this condition, he was carried by his wife’s orders to her - father’s abode, where he continued to sleep till the following - morning. When he awoke, and was wondering at his strange - surroundings, his cunning wife came smilingly into the room, - and said: ‘Of, my dear husband, I have actually carried out the - Rabbi’s suggestion, inasmuch as I have taken away from home a - most precious keepsake. This is your own dear self, without whom - it would be impossible for me to live.’ - - “The husband, moved to tears, embraced her most affectionately, - and promised that they should live together to the end. - Thereupon they joyfully returned home, and, going again to the - Rabbi, they told him what had happened, and asked him for his - forgiveness and blessing, which he readily accorded them. And, - indeed, the Rabbi’s blessing had an excellent result. For after - the lapse of some time, they both enjoyed the happiness of - fondling a bright little child of their own.” - -Arabian and Turkish thought and speech seem to be tinged with the sense -of the bizarre and strange rather than the grotesque. Their earliest -folk tales and pleasant stories, from which later grew the _Arabian -Nights_, form a cumulative, though broken chain from ancient to -modern times. - -Persian humor leans toward the romantic and sentimental, but no ancient -fragments are available. From the later writers, as Omar and Sadi, we -feel convinced there was an early literature but we can find none to -quote. - -India shows the oldest and most definite signs of early folk lore and -retold tales. - -Buddha’s _Jatakas_ produced the stories that later proved the -germs of merry tales by Boccaccio and Chaucer. That these later writers -put in all the fun is not entirely probable. - -Some antiquarians claim to find humor in the hymns of the Rig Vedas, -whose date is indefinitely put at between 2,000 and 1,500 B.C. -while others of different temperament deny it. - -From this example the reader may judge for himself. - - - _THE HYMN OF THE FROGS_ - - “When the first shower of the rainy season - Has fallen on them, parched with thirst and longing, - In glee each wet and dripping frog jumps upward; - The green one and the speckled join their voices. - - “They shout aloud like Brahmans drunk with soma, - When they perform their annual devotions: - Like priests at service sweating o’er the kettle, - They issue forth; not one remains in hiding. - - “The frogs that bleat like goats, that low like cattle, - The green one and the speckled give us riches; - Whole herds of cows may they bestow upon us, - And grant us length of days through sacrificing.” - -The _Jatakas_ of Buddha, though religious writings, and teachings -by parables, are not without humor. The one about the silly son who -killed the mosquito on his father’s bald head with a heavy blow of an -ax, has its funny side. Or the old monarch who had reigned 252,000 -years and still had 84,000 years more ahead of him, and went into -solitary retirement because he discovered a gray hair in his head. -Another shrewd fellow made an enormous fortune out of the sale of a -dead mouse. - -Of course, the animals figure largely. There is the tale of the monkeys -who watered a garden and then pulled up the plants to see if their -roots were wet, and the angry crows who tried to drink up the sea. - -Riddles, too, must be remembered. - -Though not many specimens have been preserved, yet we remember Samson’s -riddle, so disastrous to the Philistines. - -“Out of the eater came forth meat; and out of the strong came forth -sweetness.” - -And when his susceptibility to cajolery led him to tell his wife the -answer, and she tattled, his comment was the pithy; “If ye had not -plowed with my heifer, ye had not found out my riddle.” - -The Sphinx’s riddle is well known. “What animal goes on four legs in -the morning, on two at noon, and on three at night?” - -The answer being: Man, who goes on all-fours in infancy, walks upright -in middle life, and adds a staff in old age. - -An ancient riddle is ascribed to the problematical personality of -Homer, though it was doubtless originated before his time,--if he had a -time. - -Homer, the tale goes, met some boys coming home from a fishing trip. On -his asking them of their luck, they replied, “What we caught we threw -away; what we didn’t catch, we have.” - -It seems they referred to fleas, not fish, and his inability to guess -this so enraged Homer, that he killed himself. - -And here is a free translation of an ancient Arabian riddle. - - “The loftiest cedars I can eat, - Yet neither paunch nor mouth have I. - I storm whene’er you give me meat, - Whene’er you give me drink, I die.” - -The answer is Fire, and as may be seen, the type of riddle is precisely -such as are found in the puzzle columns of today’s papers. - -Riddles are frequently mentioned in Ancient Literature,-- every -country or race indulging in them. Josephus tells us that Solomon and -Hiram of Tyre were in the habit of exchanging riddles. - -So we find that a love of fun or playfulness was inherent in our early -ancestors, yet it did not reach a height to be called genuine creative -humor. - -But there is always the feeling that if more of the translators -themselves possessed more humor, they might find more in the originals. - -As a rule, translators and antiquarian researchers are so engaged in -serious seeking that they would probably pass over humor if they ran -across it. - -When a man is prospecting for iron or coal, he may easily be blind to -indications of wells of natural oil. - -More wit and humor of Ancient India has come down to us through the -caricatures and grotesque drawings than in words. - -The innumerable pictures of the God Krishna are the most humorous of -these. - -Krishna appears to have been a veritable Don Juan, and his multitude of -lady friends numbered up to many thousands. - -It is narrated that a friend of his, who had no wife, begged for just -one from Krishna’s multiplicity. - -“Court any one you wish,” said the light-hearted god, pleasantly. - -So the friend went from house to house of Krishna’s various wives, but -one and all, they declared themselves quite satisfied with husband, -Krishna, and moreover each one was convinced that he was hers alone. -The seeker visited sixteen thousand and eight houses, and then gave it -up. - -The endless pictures of Krishna represent him surrounded by lovely -ladies, and a curious detail of these drawings is that in many -instances the group of girls is wreathed and twisted into the shape -or semblance of a bird or a horse or an elephant, presenting an -interesting and not unpleasing effect. - -Now, all we have given so far, seems indeed a meager grist for the -first division of our Outline. But one may not find what does not exist. - -There is no doubt that humor was known and loved from the dawning -of independent thought, but as it was not recorded, save for a few -drawings, on the enduring rocks, it died with its originators. - -Humor was the last need of a self-providing race, and even when found -it was a luxury rather than a necessity. - -As a fair example of the earliest tales that have lived in various -forms ever since their first recital, is appended the bit of ancient -Hindoo folk-lore, called - - - _THE GOOD WIFE AND THE BAD HUSBAND_ - -In a secluded village there lived a rich man, who was very miserly, -and his wife, who was very kind-hearted and charitable, but a stupid -little woman that believed everything she heard. And there lived in -the same village a clever rogue, who had for some time watched for an -opportunity for getting something from this simple woman during her -husband’s absence. So one day, when he had seen the old miser ride -out to inspect his lands, this rogue of the first water came to the -house, and fell down at the threshold as if overcome by fatigue. The -woman ran up to him at once and inquired whence he came. “I am come -from Kailása,” said he; “having been sent down by an old couple living -there, for news of their son and his wife.” “Who are those fortunate -dwellers in Siva’s mountain?” she asked. And the rogue gave the names -of her husband’s deceased parents, which he had taken good care, of -course, to learn from the neighbours. “Do you really come from them?” -said the simple woman. “Are they doing well there? Dear old people! -How glad my husband would be to see you, were he here! Sit down, -please, and rest until he returns. How do they live there? Have they -enough to eat and dress themselves withal?” These and a hundred other -questions she put to the rogue, who, for his part, wished to get away -as soon as possible, knowing full well how he would be treated if -the miser should return while he was there. So he replied, “Mother, -language has no words to describe the miseries they are undergoing in -the other world. They have not a rag of clothing, and for the last six -days they have eaten nothing, and have lived on water only. It would -break your heart to see them.” The rogue’s pathetic words deceived the -good woman, who firmly believed that he had come down from Kailása, a -messenger from the old couple to herself! “Why should they so suffer,” -said she, “when their son has plenty to eat and clothe himself withal, -and when their daughter-in-law wears all sorts of costly garments?” -So saying, she went into the house, and soon came out again with two -boxes containing all her own and her husband’s clothes, which she -handed to the rogue, desiring him to deliver them to the poor old -couple in Kailása. She also gave him her jewel-box, to be presented to -her mother-in-law. “But dress and jewels will not fill their hungry -stomachs,” said the rogue. “Very true; I had forgot: wait a moment,” -said the simple woman, going into the house once more. Presently -returning with her husband’s cash chest, she emptied its glittering -contents into the rogue’s skirt, who now took his leave in haste, -promising to give everything to the good old couple in Kailása; and -having secured all the booty in his upper garment, he made off at the -top of his speed as soon as the silly woman had gone indoors. - -Shortly after this the husband returned home, and his wife’s pleasure -at what she had done was so great that she ran to meet him at the door, -and told him all about the arrival of the messenger from Kailása, how -his parents were without clothes and food, and how she had sent them -clothes and jewels and store of money. On hearing this, the anger of -the husband was great; but he checked himself, and inquired which road -the messenger from Kailása had taken, saying that he wished to follow -him with a further message for his parents. So she very readily pointed -out the direction in which the rogue had gone. With rage in his heart -at the trick played upon his stupid wife, he rode off in hot haste, -and after having proceeded a considerable distance, he caught sight -of the flying rogue, who, finding escape hopeless, climbed up into a -_pipal_ tree. The husband soon reached the foot of the tree, when -he shouted to the rogue to come down. “No, I cannot,” said he; “this -is the way to Kailása,” and then climbed to the very top of the tree. -Seeing there was no chance of the rogue coming down, and there being -no one near to whom he could call for help, the old miser tied his -horse to a neighbouring tree, and began to climb up the _pipal_ -himself. When the rogue observed this, he thanked all his gods most -fervently, and having waited until his enemy had climbed nearly up to -him, he threw down his bundle of booty, and then leapt nimbly from -branch to branch till he reached the ground in safety, when he mounted -the miser’s horse and with his bundle rode into a thick forest, where -he was not likely to be discovered. Being thus balked the miser came -down the _pipal_ tree slowly, cursing his own stupidity in having -risked his horse to recover the things which his wife had given the -rogue, and returned home at leisure. His wife, who was waiting his -return, welcomed him with a joyous countenance, and cried, “I thought -as much: you have sent away your horse to Kailása, to be used by your -old father.” Vexed at his wife’s words, as he was, he replied in the -affirmative, to conceal his own folly. - - - - - MIDDLE DIVISION - - - PART I - - GREECE - -In essaying an Outline of the World’s Humor, the greatest obstacle to -our work is the insufficiency of data. - -While we are sure there was humor in the early days, we cannot get much -of it for publication. The Fables and Folk Tales that come down to us -are of uncertain origin and date. Traditions have been traced to their -inception but the tracery is of vague and shadowy lines. - -Wherefore it is well nigh impossible to formulate or systematize our -chronology. - -The simple division of Ancient, Middle and Modern must serve for a main -arrangement, with the subdivision of the Middle into Greece, Rome, and -the Mediæval Ages. - -Greece will include generally the time from 500 B.C. to 500 A.D., -although its traditions reach farther back into antiquity. - -The whole Middle Division must include all from 500 B.C. to about 1300 -A.D. - -So, we see the boundaries are inevitable if not entirely satisfactory. - -Greece was the primeval European civilization, and in the year 500 -B.C. it already had its own literature and the Iliad and -Odyssey were even then antique. - -These, at this time, were traditionally ascribed to Homer as they have -ever since remained. But Homer’s individual existence is a matter of -doubt, and his history and personality are as unknown as those of the -ancient patriarchs of the Old Testament. - -Even from this distant viewpoint the humor of antiquity is, like -beauty, in the eye of the beholder. - -Coleridge says definitely, “Amongst the classic ancients there was -little or no humor.” But, on the other hand, that eminent antiquarian, -William Hayes Ward says, “The Greeks were the maddest, jolliest race of -men that ever inhabited our planet. As they loved games and play, they -loved the joke.” - -So, as more than any other human emotion, humor is a matter of -opinion, we must dig up whatever nuggets we can and not assay them too -meticulously. - -Like Homer, Æsop, is wrapped in mystery. Like Homer, too, various -cities claimed the honor of being his birthplace. The truth is not -known. - -Tradition places Æsop in the sixth century, B.C. and makes him -a dwarf and, originally, a slave. - -Though probably not a historic personage, his name is inseparably -connected with the Fables that have been known to us for centuries; -and, according to scholars, some of them were known a thousand years -earlier to the Egyptians. - -Of these things we cannot speak positively, but _Æsop’s Fables_ -certainly come at or near the beginnings of Greek Literature, and their -place is here. - - - ÆSOP’S FABLES - - _THE LION, THE BEAR, THE MONKEY, AND THE FOX_ - -The Tyrant of the forest issued a proclamation, commanding all his -subjects to repair immediately to his royal den. Among the rest, the -Bear made his appearance; but pretending to be offended with the steams -which issued from the Monarch’s apartments, he was imprudent enough -to hold his nose in his Majesty’s presence. This insolence was so -highly resented, that the Lion in a rage laid him dead at his feet. -The Monkey, observing what had passed, trembled for his carcass; and -attempted to conciliate favor by the most abject flattery. He began -with protesting, that for his part he thought the apartments were -perfumed with Arabian spices; and exclaiming against the rudeness of -the Bear, admired the beauty of his Majesty’s paws, so happily formed, -he said, to correct the insolence of clowns. This fulsome adulation, -instead of being received as he expected, proved no less offensive -than the rudeness of the Bear; and the courtly Monkey was in like -manner extended by the side of Sir Bruin. And now his Majesty cast his -eye upon the Fox. “Well, Reynard,” said he, “and what scent do you -discover here?” “Great Prince,” replied the cautious Fox, “my nose was -never esteemed my most distinguishing sense; and at present I would -by no means venture to give my opinion, as I have unfortunately got a -terrible cold.” - - - _Reflection_ - -It is often more prudent to suppress our sentiments, than either to -flatter or to rail. - - - _THE PARTIAL JUDGE_ - -A Farmer came to a neighbouring Lawyer, expressing great concern for an -accident which he said had just happened. “One of your oxen,” continued -he, “has been gored by an unlucky bull of mine, and I shall be glad -to know how I am to make you a reparation.” “Thou art a very honest -fellow,” replied the Lawyer, “and wilt not think it unreasonable that -I expect one of thy oxen in return.” “It is no more than justice,” -quoth the Farmer, “to be sure: but what did I say!--I mistake--It is -your bull that has killed one of my oxen.” “Indeed,” says the Lawyer, -“that alters the case: I must inquire into the affair; and if”--“And -_if_!” said the Farmer, “the business I find would have been -concluded without an _if_, had you been as ready to do justice to -others as to exact it from them.” - - - _Reflection_ - -The injuries we do, and those we suffer, are seldom weighed in the same -scales. - -It is all very well for some wiseacres to say, “Humor came in with -civilization,” for others to say, “Humor took its rise in the Middle -Ages,” or to set any other arbitrary time. - -The truth is that Humor, is an innate emotion, and in a general sense, -it is the child of religion. - -The primitive religions were conducted with Festival Ceremonies, whose -celebrations were of such symbolic nature, and later, such burlesque of -symbolism that gaiety ensued and then ribaldry. - -The worship of the god Dionysus,--later mixed up in tradition with -Bacchus,--was responsible for much reckless license that was the -earliest form of comedy. - -Dionysus, being deity of the vineyard, as well as of phallic worship, -lent himself readily to the grotesque representations and hysterical -orgies of his followers and Greek Comedy was probably the outcome of -this. - -In these Dionysiac festivals the processions and parades represented -everything imaginable that was bizarre or ridiculous. - -As in all ages, before and since, the mummers clothed themselves in the -likeness of animals, and invented horrible masks. - -Comedy came to be abuse, ridicule and parody of sacred things. - -Notwithstanding Coleridge’s comment, laughter was universal in Greece -and Plato declared the _agelastoi_ or non-laughers to be the least -respectable of mortals. - -Small wonder then that their mirth exhibited itself in drawings and -paintings. These mediums were easier to come by than writings, and the -early grotesques and caricatures of the Greeks are drawings on Greek -vases which show the playfulness as well as the serious purpose of -the artist-potter. The first and greatest of Greek poets adds strokes -of wit to his stories of the Trojan war. When Ulysses returns from -the siege of Ilium he stops at the island of Sicily, and he and his -companions are caught by the one-eyed giant Polyphemus and imprisoned -in his cave. Then comes the story of the crafty leader’s escape, after -some of his companions had been slain and eaten by the monster. It -is a most amusing story, told with all Greek humor, how the giant -was blinded with the burnt stick which gouged out his eye while in a -drunken sleep; how the Greeks escaped through the entrance by clinging -under the bodies of his sheep, while he felt of them one by one to see -that not a Greek escaped. Then comes the giant’s howling call to his -distant companions, and in answer to their question, who had blinded -him, his telling them that “Outis” (Nobody) had done it, _Outis_ -(_Nobody_) being the name Ulysses had given the giant as his own. -“If nobody has done it”, replied his companions, “then it is the act of -the gods”, and they left him to endure his loss. Thus the Greeks escape -to their ships and taunt the monster as they flee away, followed by his -vain pursuit. Homer relieves the wisdom of Ulysses and the dignity of -Agamemnon with the gibes of Thersites or the rude humor of the suitors -of Penelope, the trick of whose embroidery is itself an amusing story. - -Greece, of course, was the cradle of all that we now call art. -Landscape painters, painters of animals and portrait limners, as well -as still life artists and sculptors and workers in mosaics reached a -high state of perfection. - -Then naturally the caricaturists and comic artists could not be wanting -there. Burlesque affected their pencils and brushes as it had their -speech and caricature and parody were rampant. - -A marvelous example is the parody or caricature of the Oracle of -Apollo at Delphi. It is taken from an oxybaphon which was brought from -the Continent to England, where it passed into the collection of Mr. -William Hope. The _oxybaphon_, or, as it was called by the Romans, -_acetabulum_, was a large vessel for holding vinegar, which formed -one of the important ornaments of the table, and was therefore very -susceptible of pictorial embellishment of this description. It is -one of the most remarkable Greek caricatures of this kind yet known, -and represents a parody on one of the most interesting stories of -the Grecian mythology, that of the arrival of Apollo at Delphi. The -artist, in his love of burlesque, has spared none of the personages who -belonged to the story. The Hyperborean Apollo himself appears in the -character of a quack doctor, on his temporary stage, covered by a sort -of roof, and approached by wooden steps. On the stage lies Apollo’s -luggage, consisting of a bag, a bow, and his Scythian cap. Chron is -represented as labouring under the effects of age and blindness, and -supporting himself by the aid of a crooked staff, as he repairs to the -Delphian quack doctor for relief. The figure of the centaur is made to -ascend by the aid of a companion, both being furnished with the masks -and other attributes of the comic performers. Above are the mountains, -and on them the nymphs of Parnassus, who, like all the other actors -in the scene, are disguised with masks, and those of a very grotesque -character. On the right-hand side stands a figure which is considered -as representing the _epoptes_, the inspector or overseer of -the performance, who alone wears no mask. Even a pun is employed to -heighten the drollery of the scene, for instead of ΠΥΘΙΑΣ, the Pythian, -placed over the head of the burlesque Apollo, it seems evident that the -artist had written ΠΕΙΘΙΑΣ, the consoler in allusion, perhaps, to the -consolation which the quack-doctor is administering to his blind and -aged visitor. - -The comic and grotesque led on to the representation of the monstrous, -and queer, strange figures became part of their art and architecture. -Out of these, perhaps, grew the hideous masks and strange distortions -of the human figure. - -Perhaps this is why Æsop was represented as a dwarf and a hunchback. - -But the whole trend of the grotesque and monstrous in religious -ornamentation grew and flourished on into the Middle Ages and later, -and the gargoyles of our latest churches show the persisting influence. - -The old comedy of Greece has been called the comedy of caricature, and -hand in hand, verbal and pictorial parody have come to us down the -centuries. - -Pictorial burlesque, however, was not placed on the public monuments, -but lent itself more readily to objects of common usage or individual -belongings. It is found abundantly on the pottery of Greece and Rome -and abounded in the wall paintings of Herculaneum and Pompeii. - -This is not the place to discuss the identity of Homer. Whether a real -man, a group of men or a myth, the works of Homer are immortal and, for -the most part serious. - -Our task is to find anything humorous in the Greek epics. - -It is not easy, indeed, it is almost impossible. But we subjoin an -extract which, we may say, comes the nearest to humor in Homer. - - - _THE BEATING OF THERSITES_ - - Ulysses’ ruling thus restrained - The host from flight; and then again the Council was maintained - With such a concourse that the shore rang with the tumult made; - As when the far-resounding sea doth in its rage invade - His sandy confines, whose sides groan with his involved wave, - And make his own breast echo sighs. All sate, and audience gave. - Thersites only would speak all. A most disordered store - Of words he foolishly poured out, of which his mind held more - Than it could manage; anything with which he could procure - Laughter, he never could contain. He should have yet been sure - To touch no kings; t’oppose their states becomes not jesters’ - parts. - But he the filthiest fellow was of all that had deserts - In Troy’s brave siege. He was squint-eyed, and lame of either foot; - So crookbacked that he had no breast; sharp-headed, where did shoot - (Here and there ’spersed) thin, mossy hair. He most of all envied - Ulysses and Æacides, whom still his spleen would chide. - Nor could the sacred king himself avoid his saucy vein; - Against whom since he knew the Greeks did vehement hates sustain, - Being angry for Achilles’ wrong, he cried out, railing thus: - “Atrides, why complain’st thou now? What wouldst thou more of us? - Thy tents are full of brass; and dames, the choice of all, are - thine, - With whom we must present thee first, when any towns resign - To our invasion. Want’st thou, then, besides all this, more gold - From Troy’s knights to redeem their sons, whom to be dearly sold - I or some other Greek must take? Or wouldst thou yet again - Force from some other lord his prize, to soothe the lusts that - reign - In thy encroaching appetite? It fits no prince to be - A prince of ill, and govern us, or lead our progeny - By rape to ruin. Oh, base Greeks, deserving infamy, - And ills eternal, Greekish girls, not Greeks, ye are! Come, flee - Home with our ships; leave this man here to perish with his preys, - And try if we helped him or not. He wronged a man that weighs - Far more than he himself in worth. He forced from Thetis’ son, - And keeps his prize still. Nor think I that mighty man hath won - The style of wrathful worthily; he’s soft, he’s too remiss; - Or else, Atrides, his had been thy last of injuries.” - Thus he the people’s pastor chid; but straight stood up to him - Divine Ulysses, who, with looks exceeding grave and grim, - This bitter check gave: “Cease, vain fool, to vent thy railing vein - On kings thus, though it serve thee well; nor think thou canst - restrain, - With that thy railing faculty, their wills in least degree; - For not a worse, of all this host, came with our king than thee, - To Troy’s great siege; then do not take into that mouth of thine - The names of kings, much less revile the dignities that shine - In their supreme states, wresting thus this motion for our home, - To soothe thy cowardice; since ourselves yet know not what will - come - Of these designments, if it be our good to stay, or go. - Nor is it that thou stand’st on; thou revil’st our general so, - Only because he hath so much, not given by such as thou, - But our heroes. Therefore this thy rude vein makes me vow, - Which shall be curiously observed, if ever I shall hear - This madness from thy mouth again, let not Ulysses bear - This head, nor be the father called of young Telemachus, - If to thy nakedness I take and strip thee not, and thus - Whip thee to fleet from council; send, with sharp stripes, weeping - hence - This glory thou affect’st to rail.” This said, his insolence - He settled with his scepter; struck his back and shoulders so - That bloody wales rose. He shrunk round, and from his eyes did flow - Moist tears, and, looking filthily, he sate, feared, smarted, dried - His blubbered cheeks; and all the press, though grieved to be denied - Their wished retreat for home, yet laughed delightsomely, and spake - Either to other: “Oh, ye gods, how infinitely take - Ulysses’ virtues in our good! Author of counsels, great - In ordering armies, how most well this act became his heat, - To beat from council this rude fool. I think his saucy spirit - Hereafter will not let his tongue abuse the sovereign merit, - Exempt from such base tongues as his.” - --_The Iliad._ - -Attributed to Homer by many, and stoutly denied by others, is a comedy -called _The Battle of the Frogs and Mice_. - -Again we note the device of animals masquerading as human beings. - -Samuel Wesley, himself a humorist, calls this the oldest burlesque in -the world, and he also dubs it, _The Iliad in a Nutshell_. He -holds that Homer wrote it as a parody of his own masterpiece, while, -conversely, Statius contends that it is a work of youth, written by -Homer before he wrote _The Iliad_. Chapman deems it the work of -the poet’s old age, and as none may decide when doctors disagree, many -scholars deny a Homeric authorship to it at all. Plutarch asserts the -real author was Pigres of Halicarnassus, who flourished during the -Persian war. - -This first burlesque known to literature has the following plot. - -A mouse, while slaking his thirst on the margin of a pond, after a -hot pursuit by a weasel, enters into conversation with a frog on the -merits of their respective modes of life. The frog invites the mouse -to a nearer inspection of the abode and habits of his own nation, and -for this purpose offers him a sail on his back. When the party are at -some distance from land, the head of an otter suddenly appears on the -surface. The terrified frog at once dives to the bottom, disengaging -himself from his rider, who, with many a struggle and bitter -imprecations on his betrayer, is involved in a watery grave. Another -mouse, who from the shore had witnessed the fate of his unfortunate -comrade, reports it to his fellow-citizens. A council is held, and war -declared against the nation of the offender. - -“Jupiter and the gods deliberate in Olympus on the issue of the -contest. Mars and Minerva decline personal interference, as well from -the awe inspired by such mighty combatants as from previous ill-will -towards both contending powers, in consequence of injuries inflicted by -each on their divine persons or properties. A band of mosquitoes sound -the war-alarum with their trumpets, and, after a bloody engagement, -the frogs are defeated with great slaughter. Jupiter, sympathising -with their fate, endeavours in vain by his thunders to intimidate the -victors from further pursuit. The rescue of the frogs, however, is -effected by an army of land-crabs, who appear as their allies, and -before whom the mice, in their turn, are speedily put to flight.” - -_The Battle of the Frogs and Mice_, then, is well described as the -earliest and most successful extant specimen of the “mock-heroic,” the -double object of which is, according to Barrow’s famous definition, to -debase things pompous and elevate things mean. An amusing version of -this Homeric _jeu d’esprit_ was published in 1851 by an author -who gave himself out as the “Singing Mouse,” “the last minstrel of his -race.” “The theme,” he says, “belongs to that heroic age of which -history has recorded that the very mountains laboured when a mouse was -born.” The metre of this translation has been altered from the stately -elegance of the original to one which is perhaps better fitted to the -subject in itself than to its special object as a travestie on the -epic style of the _Iliad_. The names of the heroes are happily -rendered; but it will be seen that some difference exists between this -author and the one just cited as to certain of the zoological terms in -the poem. - - - _THE MEETING_ - - - I - - It fell on a day that a mouse, travel-spent, - To the side of a river did wearily win; - Of the good house-cat he had baffled the scent, - And he thirstily dipt his whiskered chin; - When, crouched in the sedge by the water’s brink, - A clamorous frog beheld him drink. - “And tell me, fair sir, thy title and birth, - For of high degree thou art surely come; - I have room by my hearth for a stranger of worth, - And a welcome to boot to my royal home. - For, sooth to speak, my name is _Puffcheek_, - And I come of _Bullfrog’s_ lordly line; - I govern the bogs, the realm of the frogs, - A sceptred king by right divine.” - - - II - - Then up and spake the mighty mouse: - “And, courteous stranger, ask’st thou, then, - What’s known alike to gods and men, - The lineage of _Crumplunderer’s_ house? - Me Princess _Lickfarina_ bare, - Daughter of good King _Nibble-the-flitch_, - And she weaned me on many a dainty rare, - As became great _Pie-devourer’s_ heir, - With filberts and figs and sweetmeats rich. - - - III - - “Never mortal mouse, I ween, - Better versed in man’s cuisine; - Not a bun or tartlet, graced - With sweeping petticoat of paste, - Not an oily rasher or creamy cheese, - Or liver so gay in its silver chemise; - Not a dish by artiste for alderman made, - Ever escaped my foraging raid - For when the mice pour on pantry and store, - In foray or fight, I am aye to the fore. - - - IV - - “I fear not man’s unwieldy size, - To his very bedside I merrily go; - At his lubberly length the ogre lies, - And sleep never leaves his heavy-sealed eyes - Though I pinch his heel and nibble his toe. - But enemies twain do work my bane, - And both from my inmost soul I hate, - The cat and the kite, who bear me spite; - And, third, the mouse-trap’s fatal bait; - And the ferret foul I abhor from my soul, - The robber! he follows me into my hole!” - -Wesley’s rendering of the _dénouement_ is a thoroughly good specimen of -the mock-heroic style which runs through the original: - - The Muses knowing all things list not show - The Wailings for the Dead and Funeral Rites, - To blameless Æthiopians must they go - To feast with Jove for twelve succeeding nights. - Therefore abrupt thus end they. Let suffice - The gods’ august assembly to relate, - Heroic Frogs and Demigods of Mice, - Troxartes’ vengeance and Pelides’ fate. - Hosts routed, lakes of gore, and hills of slain, - An Iliad, work divine! raised from a day’s campaign. - -By this time Greece was ready for definite mirth and laughter. What has -come to be known as the Old Comedy was to the Athenians, we are told, -what is now shown in the influences of the newspaper, the review, the -Broadside, the satire, the caricature of the times and manners. - -Nor were cartoons missing, for the grotesque pictures were as important -a factor as the verbal or written words. - -The Old Comedy is marked by political satire of a virulent personality. -This is prohibited in the Middle Comedy, and replaced by literary and -philosophical criticism of the ways of the citizens. The New Comedy, -more repressed still, is the comedy of manners, and its influence -continued to the Roman stage and further. - -Of the Old Comedy, save for a few lesser lights, Aristophanes is the -sole representative. - -At the festivals of the god Dionysus, two elements were present. One -the solemn rites, which developed into tragedy, and the other the -grotesque and ribald orgies which were equally in evidence and which -culminated in the idea of comedy. - -The license of these symbolic representations was unbridled and all -rules of decorum and decency were violated in the frenzied antics. - -Doubtless many writings now lost to us were filled with the broad humor -of the day, but we have only the plays of Aristophanes left. - -Of the life of this Athenian not much is known. He was born after 450 -B.C. and it was after the Peloponnesian War that he wrote his -plays. - -The principal and best known of his eleven extant plays is _The -Frogs_. - -Of this, two clever translations are given. - -One, is thus introduced by a writer in _The Quarterly Review_: - - “One of the temples or theatres appropriated to the service - of Bacchus in Athens, and in which the scenic performances - of the old Greeks took place, was situated near a part of - that metropolis usually called ‘The Marshes,’ and those who - know by experience what tenants such places commonly harbour - in more southern climates will think it not impossible that - the representatives of the stage, and more particularly in - theatres which were generally without a roof, were occasionally - disturbed, to the great annoyance of the dramatists, by the - noisy vociferations of these more ancient and legitimate Lords - of the Marshes. One of them was not a man to be offended with - impunity by biped or quadruped; and wherever the foes of - Aristophanes were to be found, on land or in water, he had - shafts both able and willing to reach them. - - “In his descent to the lower world, the patron of the stage is - accordingly made to encounter a band of most pertinacious and - invincible frogs; and the gradations through which the mind - of Bacchus runs, after the first moments of irritation have - subsided, from coaxing to bullying, from affected indifference - to downright force, are probably a mere transcript of the poet’s - own feelings under similar circumstances.” - -SCENE.--_The Acherusian Lake_--BACCHUS _at the oar in_ CHARON’S _Boat_ ---CHARON--_Chorus of Frogs--In the background a view of Bacchus’s Temple -or Theatre, from which are heard the sounds of a Scenic Entertainment._ - - _Semich._ 1. Croak! croak! croak! - - _Semich._ 2. Croak! croak! croak! - - [_In answer, with music 8ve lower._ - - _Full Chorus._ Croak! croak! croak! - - _Leader of the Chorus._ When flagons were foaming, - And roysterers roaming, - And bards flung about them their gibe and their joke; - The holiest song - Still was found to belong - To the Sons of the Marsh with their-- - - _Full Chorus._ Croak! croak! - - _Leader._ Shall we pause in our strain, - Now the months bring again - The pipe and the minstrel to gladden the folk? - Rather strike on the ear, - With a note sharp and clear, - A chant corresponding of-- - - _Chorus._ Croak! croak! - - _Bacchus_ (_mimicking_). Croak! croak! By the Gods, I shall choke - If you pester and bore my ears any more - With your croak! croak! croak! - - _Leader._ Rude companion and vain, - Thus to carp at my strain, - But keep in the vein, - And attack him again - With a croak! croak! croak! - - _Chorus_ (_crescendo_). Croak! croak! croak! - - _Bacchus_ (_mimicking_). Croak! croak! Vapour and smoke! - Never think it, old huff, - That I care for such stuff - As your croak! croak! croak! - - _Chorus_ (_fortissimo_). Croak! croak! croak! - - _Bacchus._ Now fires light on thee - And waters soak, - And March winds catch thee - Without any cloak. - For within and without, - From the tail to the snout, - Thou’rt nothing but-- - Croak! croak! croak! - - _Leader._ And what else, captious newcomer, say, should I be? - But you know not to whom you are talking, I see. - - [_With dignity_. - - I’m the friend of the Muses, and Pan with his pipe - Loves me better by far than a cherry that’s ripe: - Who gives them their tone and their moisture but I? - And therefore for ever I’ll utter my cry - Of-- - - _Chorus._ Croak! croak! croak! - - _Bacchus._ I’m blistered, I’m flustered, I’m sick, I’m ill. - - _Chorus._ Croak! croak! croak! - - _Bacchus._ My dear little bull-frog, do prithee keep still. - - _Chorus._ Croak! croak! croak! - - _Bacchus._ ’Tis a sorry vocation, that reiteration; - I speak on my honour, most musical nation - Of croak! croak! croak! - - _Leader_ (_maestoso_). When the sun rides in glory and makes a - light day - ’Mid lilies and plants of the water I stray; - Or when the sky darkens with tempest and rain, - I sink like a pearl in my watery domain. - But sinking or swimming I lift up my song, - Or drive a gay dance with my eloquent throng. - Then hey, bubble, bubble, - For a knave’s petty trouble - Shall I my high charter and birthright revoke? - Nay, my efforts I’ll double - And drive him like stubble - Before me with-- - - _Chorus._ Croak! croak! croak! - - _Bacchus._ I’m ribs of steel, I’m heart of oak, - Let us see if a note - Can be found in this throat, - To answer their (_croaks loudly_) croak! croak! croak! - - _Leader._ Poor vanity’s son! - And dost think me undone - With a clamour no bigger - Than a maiden’s first snigger? - But strike up a tune - - [_To Chorus._ - - He’ll not forget soon - Of our croak! croak! croak! - - _Chorus_ (_with discordant crash of music_). Croak! croak! croak! - - _Bacchus._ I’m cinder, I’m coke! - I have got my death-stroke. - O that ever I woke - To be galled by the yoke - Of this croak! croak! croak! - - _Leader._ Friend, friend, I may not be still, - My destinies high I must needs fulfil. - And the march of creation, despite reprobation, - Must proceed with--, - - [_To Chorus._ - - My lads, may I make application - For a-- - - _Chorus._ Croak! croak! croak! - - _Bacchus_ (_in a minor key_). Nay, nay! Take your own way, - I’ve said out my say, - And care nought by my fai’ - For your croak! croak! croak! - - _Leader._ Care or care not, ’tis the same thing to me; - My voice is my own, and my actions are free. - I have but one note, and I chant it with glee, - And from morning to night that note it shall be - - _Chorus._ Croak! croak! croak! - - _Bacchus._ Nay then, old rebel, - I’ll stop your treble - With a poke! poke! poke! - - [_Dashing at the Frogs._ - - Take this from my rudder, and that from my oar, - And now let us see if you’ll trouble us more - With your croak! croak! croak! - - _Leader._ You may batter and bore, - You may thunder and roar, - Yet I’ll never give o’er - Till I’m hard at death’s door-- - This rib, by the way, is confoundedly sore). - - _Semich. 1._ With my croak! croak! croak! - - _Semich. 2_ (_dim._). Croak! croak! croak! - - _Full Chorus_ (_in a dying cadence_). Croak! croak! croak! - - [_The Frogs disappear._ - - _Bacchus_ (_looking over the boat’s edge_). Spoke! spoke! spoke! - - [_To_ CHARON. - - Pull away, my old friend, - For at last there’s an end - To their croak! croak! croak! - - [BACCHUS _pays his two oboli and is landed._ - - - _THE PASSAGE OF THE STYX_ - - CHARON, BACCHUS, _and_ XANTHIAS - - _Charon._ Hoy! Bear a hand there! Heave ashore! - - _Bacchus._ What’s this? - - _Xanthias._ The lake it is--the place he told us of. - By Jove! and there’s the boat--and here’s old Charon! - - _Bacchus._ Well, Charon! Welcome, Charon! Welcome kindly! - - _Charon._ Who wants the ferryman? Anybody waiting - To leave the pangs of life? A passage, anybody? - To Lethe’s wharf? To Cerberus’ reach? - To Tartarus? To Tænarus? To Perdition? - - _Bacchus._ Yes, I. - - _Charon._ Get in then. - - _Bacchus._ Tell me, where are you going? - To perdition, really? - - _Charon._ Yes, to oblige you, I will-- - With all my heart. Step in there. - - _Bacchus._ Have a care! - Take care, good Charon! Charon, have a care! - - (_Getting into the boat._) - - Come, Xanthias, come! - - _Charon._ I take no slaves aboard, - Except they’ve volunteer’d for the naval victory. - - _Xanthias._ I could not; I was suffering with sore eyes. - - _Charon._ Off with you, round by the end of the lake. - - _Xanthias._ And whereabouts shall I wait? - - _Charon._ At the Stone of Repentance, - By the Slough of Despond, beyond the Tribulations. - You understand me? - - _Xanthias._ Yes, I understand you-- - A lucky, promising direction, truly. - - _Charon_ (_to_ BACCHUS). Sit down at the oar. Come, quick, - if there are more coming!-- - Hullo! what’s that you’re doing? - - (BACCHUS _is seated in a buffoonish attitude in the side - of the boat where the oar was fastened._) - - _Bacchus._ What you told me. - I’m sitting at the oar. - - _Charon._ Sit _there_, I tell you, - You fatguts; that’s your place. - - _Bacchus_ (_changes his place_). Well, so I do. - - _Charon._ Now ply your hands and arms. - - _Bacchus_ (_makes a silly motion with his arms_). Well, so I do. - - _Charon._ You’d best leave off your fooling. Take to the oar, - And pull away. - - _Bacchus._ But how shall I contrive? - I’ve never served on board; I’m only a landsman; - I’m quite unused to it. - - _Charon._ We can manage it. - As soon as you begin you shall have some music; - That will teach you to keep time. - - _Bacchus._ What music’s that? - - _Charon._ A chorus of frogs--uncommon musical frogs. - - _Bacchus._ Well, give me the word and the time. - - _Charon._ Whooh, up, up! Whooh, up, up! - - - CHORUS OF FROGS - - Brekeke-kesh, koash, koash! - Shall the choral quiristers of the marsh - Be censured and rejected as hoarse and harsh, - And their chromatic essays - Deprived of praise? - No; let us raise afresh - Our obstreperous brekeke-kesh! - The customary croak and cry - Of the creatures - At the theaters - In their yearly revelry. - Brekeke-kesh, koash, koash! - - _Bacchus_ (_rowing in great misery_). - How I’m maul’d! - How I’m gall’d! - Worn and mangled to a mash-- - There they go! Koash, koash! - - _Frogs._ Brekeke-kesh, koash, koash! - - _Bacchus._ Oh, beshrew, - All your crew! - You don’t consider how I smart. - - _Frogs._ Now for a sample of the art! - Brekeke-kesh, koash, koash! - - _Bacchus._ I wish you hanged, with all my heart! - Have you nothing else to say? - Brekeke-kesh, koash, all day! - - _Frogs._ We’ve a right, - We’ve a right, - And we croak at ye for spite. - We’ve a right, - We’ve a right, - Day and night, - Day and night, - Night and day, - Still to creak and croak away. - Phœbus and every Grace - Admire and approve of the croaking race; - And the egregious guttural notes - That are gargled and warbled in their lyrical throats. - In reproof - Of your scorn, - Mighty Pan - Nods his horn; - Beating time - To the rime - With his hoof, - With his hoof. - Persisting in our plan, - We proceed as we began. - Brekeke-kesh, brekeke-kesh, - Koash, koash! - - _Bacchus._ Oh, the frogs, consume and rot ’em! - I’ve a blister on my bottom! - Hold your tongues, you noisy creatures! - - _Frogs._ Cease with your profane entreaties, - All in vain forever striving; - Silence is against our natures; - With the vernal heat reviving, - Our aquatic crew repair - From their periodic sleep, - In the dark and chilly deep, - To the cheerful upper air. - Then we frolic here and there - All amid the meadows fair; - Shady plants of asphodel - Are the lodges where we dwell; - Chanting in the leafy bowers - All the livelong summer hours, - Till the sudden gusty showers - Send us headlong, helter-skelter, - To the pool to seek for shelter. - Meager, eager, leaping, lunging, - From the sedgy wharfage plunging - To the tranquil depth below, - There we muster all a-row; - Where, secure from toil and trouble, - With a tuneful hubble-bubble, - Our symphonious accents flow. - Brekeke-kesh, koash, koash! - - _Bacchus._ I forbid you to proceed. - - _Frogs._ That would be severe, indeed, - Arbitrary, bold, and rash-- - Brekeke-kesh, koash, koash! - - _Bacchus._ I command you to desist-- - Oh, my back, there! Oh, my wrist - What a twist! - What a sprain! - - _Frogs._ Once again - We renew the tuneful strain-- - Brekeke-kesh, koash, koash! - - _Bacchus._ I disdain--hang the pain!-- - All your nonsense, noise, and trash. - Oh, my blister! Oh, my sprain! - - _Frogs._ Brekeke-kesh, koash, koash! - Friends and frogs, we must display - All our powers of voice to-day. - Suffer not this stranger here, - With fastidious, foreign ear, - To confound us and abash - Brekeke-kesh, koash, koash! - - _Bacchus._ Well, my spirit is not broke; - If it’s only for the joke, - I’ll outdo you with a croak. - Here it goes--(_very loud_) “Koash, koash!” - - _Frogs._ Now for a glorious croaking crash, - (still louder) - Brekeke-kesh, koash, koash! - - _Bacchus_ (_splashing with his oar_). - I’ll disperse you with a splash. - - _Frogs._ Brekeke-kesh, koash, koash! - - _Bacchus._ I’ll subdue - Your rebellious, noisy crew-- - Have among you there, slap-dash! - (_Strikes at them._) - - _Frogs._ Brekeke-kesh, koash, koash! - We defy your oar, and you. - - _Charon._ Hold! We’re ashore. Now shift your oar. - Get out. Now pay your fare. - - _Bacchus._ There--there it is--the twopence. - - --_The Frogs._ - -Another play of Aristophanes is _The Birds_. - -The plot of this is simply that two Athenians, disgusted with the state -of things in their native city, form the idea of building a city where -the birds shall regain their old traditional supremacy. - -The proposal is happily received by the birds and the city of -Nephelococyggia, or Cloud-cuckoo-town is the result. - -It was merely a burlesque on the Athenians who were given to building -castles in the air. - -Lack of space forbids further quotation from Aristophanes, but his -comedies are available to all who wish to read them. - -Among the predecessors of Aristophanes was Cratinus, who was an enemy -of water drinkers, and expressed the dictum that no verses written by -abstainers could ever please or live! - -Another, whose fragmentary lines have a certain modern ring, is -Simonides, who left us a poem of the ladies, which, it has been said, -gave the tone to all the Greek pasquinades of the same class. He -compares the different types of ladies to various members of the lower -orders in creation; and the “Fine Lady” is represented by a high-bred -steed. - - - _THE FINE LADY. BY SIMONIDES._ - - Next in the lot a gallant dame we see, - Sprung from a mare of noble pedigree; - No servile work her spirit proud can brook, - Her hands were never taught to bake or cook; - The vapour of the oven makes her ill, - She scorns to empty slops or turn the mill. - To wash or scour would make her soft hands rough, - Her own ablutions give pursuit enough; - Three baths a day, with balms and perfumes rare, - Refresh her tender limbs. Her long rich hair - Each time she combs and decks with blooming flowers. - No spouse more fit than she the idle hours - Of wealthy lords or kings to recreate, - And grace the splendour of their courtly state; - For men of humbler sort no better guide - Heaven in its wrath to ruin can provide. - -Two more examples of the wit of Cratinus follow: - - “Apollo, of fine verses here’s a gush! - They come, like springs and fountains, with a rush. - A river’s in his windpipe! Turn the tap; - This spouting, if not stopped, will cause some dire mishap.” - - “How can one stop him from this thirst for drink? - How _can_ one? Well, I’ve found a way, I think. - For every cup and every mug I’ll smash, - His flasks and pitchers into fragments dash, - Shiver all kinds of pots that come to table, - And not one crock to keep shall he be able.” - -Plato Comicus (as distinguished from the philosopher), who carried on a -poetic contest with Aristophanes, ranks among the best of the poets of -the Old Comedy, but only a few fragments of his work remain. - -Here are two of them: - - “Henceforth no four-legged creature should be slain, - Except the pig; of this the reason’s plain. - Its use--unless for food--man vainly seeks; - It only gives him bristles, dirt, and squeaks.” - - “We’re swamped with ‘public men’; for one scamp dead, - Two louder talkers, greater scamps, instead - Spring up like Hydra’s heads: the more’s the pity - We have no Iolaus in the city - To singe the necks from which these pests arise, - In whom foul lives alone secure the prize.” - -As students of the Classics themselves find great difficulty in drawing -strict boundaries between the Old and Middle Comedy, we need not pay -careful attention to exact dates, but accept the general idea that one -passed into the other at about the time the Peloponnesian War ended. - -This was 404 B.C. and Middle Comedy may be said to extend from -that date until the overthrow of the Athenians by Philip of Macedon in -338 B.C. - -The most distinguished poet of the Middle Comedy was Antiphanes, who -lived in the Fourth Century, B.C. - -His lines are epigrammatic and frequently refer to the prevailing theme -of drunkenness. - - “No trade more pleasant is, no art, - Than ours who play the flatterer’s part. - The painter overworked gets cross, - Your farmer learns his risk by loss; - While care and pains each workman takes, - “Laugh and get fat” _our_ motto makes. - Fun, laughter, banter, drink, I hold - Are life’s chief pleasures--next to gold.” - - “I have a vintner near who keeps a shop, - The only man who, when I want a drop, - Mixes my grog to suit my special taste; - Not neat,--nor letting water run to waste.” - - “Wives are bad property, I’d have you know,-- - Except in countries where grapes do not grow.” - - “’Tis life in paradise to find a host - To dine with, where you’ve not to count the cost. - And so new shifts to try I shall not pause, - To get a bite that’s toothsome for my jaws.” - - “One single thing I trust a woman saying, - To other statements no attention paying: - ‘When I am dead, I won’t return to grieve you.’ - Till death takes place, in naught else I’ll believe you.” - - “What! when you court concealment, will you tell - The matter to a woman? Just as well - Tell all the criers in the public squares! - ’Tis hard to say which of them louder blares.” - - “Married? He’s done for! Ah! I had misgiving. - And yet I only lately left him living.” - - “Two states there are that we can always prove,-- - If one’s in liquor, and if one’s in love. - Both words and looks these two conditions show; - By these if the denial’s false we know.” - -Another epigrammatist was - - - ANAXANDRIADES - - He who composed the ditty, “Health is best, - Good looks come next, then money,” and the rest, - Right in the first, in the other two was wrong. - None but a madman could have made that song! - Next after “health” comes “wealth”; your handsome face, - When pinched by famine, loses all its grace. - - A man who doubts if he should marry, - Or thinks he has good cause to tarry, - Is foolish if he takes a wife, - The source of half the plagues in life! - A poor man to a rich wife sold - Exchanges liberty for gold. - If she has nothing, then, ’tis true, - There is a different ill to rue; - - For now he has, with all his need, - Two mouths instead of one to feed. - Perhaps she’s ugly; married life - Thenceforth is never-ending strife! - Perhaps she’s pretty; then _your_ boast - Is made by all your friends their toast. - Does ugly, handsome, poor, or rich, - Bring most ill luck?--I know not which. - - One course in life there is that’s hard to roam, - Back from a husband’s to a father’s home; - And every decent wife should fear to tread it; - The “homing heat” wins nothing but discredit. - -Other Greek wits offer these: - - - EUBULUS - - He who first drew or modelled Love with wings - Might paint a swallow; but how many things - In Love are different from a bird! Not light - To him who bears the weight, nor quick in flight, - Unmoved the imp upon his shoulders sits. - How can a thing have _wings_ that never flits? - - For sober folk three bowls alone I mix, - For health, cheer, sleep; the order thus I fix. - The first they toss off; _that’s_ for stomach’s sake. - The next, for love and pleasure, all may take. - The third, the few who are with wisdom blessed; - It sends them home to bed, to take their rest. - The fourth’s no longer _mine_! ’tis “drinkers’ bowl.” - A fifth they call for; then they shout and howl. - The sixth sends forth the party for a lark. - The seventh to fight and bear the drunkard’s mark. - Lawsuits the eighth. The ninth breeds furious talking; - The tenth, to rave and lose the power of walking. - Small though the bowl, much wine, if poured in neat, - The head at first affects, and last the feet. - - - ARISTOPHON - - Bad luck to him who _second_ came to wed! - The first I blame not; home a wife he led - Not knowing what a curse a wife might prove, - What deadly feuds oft spring from miscalled love. - But he who married next, in haste unwise - Rushed to his fate with fully opened eyes. - - - ALEXIS - - Your Sophists say, it is not Love almighty - That roams on wings, but _lovers_ that are flighty. - Love wrongly bears the blame; ’twas one who knew - Nought of his ways who first winged Cupids drew. - A drunken party coming up! To evade them I must try. - My sole chance now to keep my cloak is having wings to fly. - - Old Chaerephon some trick is always trying, - As now, to dine without his share supplying, - Early he goes to shops which cooks beset, - To whom by contract crockery is let, - And when he sees one choosing dishes, “Say,” - He cries, “what house do _you_ cook for to-day?” - So, when the door’s left gaping, he contrives - To slip in as the first guest that arrives. - - In wine and man this difference appears: - The old man bores you, but the old wine cheers. - Men do not, like your wine, improve by age; - The more their years, the less their ways engage. - -Aristotle, though the first to put into words the definition of the -ridiculous, can furnish no extracts which come within our present scope. - -Indeed the great teacher considered comedy from its dramatic side -rather than as mere humor. - -One of his pupils, Theophrastus, left us some fragments, especially a -short collection of character sketches which show both wit and humor. - - - _OF SLOVENLINESS_ - -This vice is a lazy and beastly negligence of a man’s person, whereby -he becomes so filthy as to be offensive to those who are about him. -You’ll see him come into a company when he is covered all over with a -leprosy or scurf, or with very long nails, and he says those distempers -are hereditary, that his father and grandfather had them before him. -He will speak with his mouth full, and gurgle at his cup in drinking. -He will intrude into the best company in ragged clothes. If he goes -with his mother to the soothsayers, he cannot even then refrain from -coarse and profane expressions. When he is making his oblations at -the temple, he will let the dish fall out of his hand, and laugh as at -some jocular exploit. At the finest concert of music he cannot forbear -clapping his hands and making a rude noise. He will pretend to sing -along with the singers, and rail at them when they leave off. - --_The Characters._ - - - _OF LOQUACITY_ - -If we would define loquacity, it is an excessive affluence of words. -The prater will not suffer any person in company to tell his own story, -but, let it be what it will, tells you you mistake the matter, that -he takes the thing right, and that if you will listen, he will make -it clear to you. If you make any reply, he suddenly interrupts you, -saying, “Why, sir, you forget what you were talking about; it’s very -well you should begin to remember, since it is most beneficial for -people to inform one another.” Then presently he says, “But what was I -going to say? Why, truly, you very soon apprehend a thing, and I was -waiting to see if you would be of my sentiment in this matter.” And -thus he always takes such occasions as these to prevent the person -he talks with the liberty of breathing. After he has thus tormented -all who will hear him, he is so rude as to break into the company of -persons met to discuss important affairs, and drives them away by his -troublesome impertinence. Thence he goes into the public schools and -places of exercise, where he interrupts the masters by his foolish -prating, and hinders the scholars from improving by their instruction. -If any person shows an inclination to go away, he will follow him, and -will not part from him till he comes to his own door. If he hears of -anything transacted in the public assembly of the citizens, he runs -up and down to tell it to everybody. He gives you a long account of -the famous battle that was fought when Aristophanes the orator was -governor, or when the Lacedæmonians were under the command of Lysander; -then tells you with what general applause he made a speech in public, -repeating a great deal of it, with invectives against the common -people, which are so tiresome to those that hear him that some forget -what he says as soon as it is out of his mouth, others fall asleep, -and others leave him in the midst of his harangue. If this talker be -sitting on the bench, the judge will be unable to determine matters. -If he’s at the theater, he’ll neither let you hear nor see anything; -nor will he even permit him that sits next to him at the table to eat -his meat. He declares it very hard for him to be silent, his tongue -being so very well hung that he’d rather be accounted as garrulous as -a swallow than be silent, and patiently bears all ridicule, even that -of his own children, who, when they want to go to rest, request him to -talk to them that they may the sooner fall asleep. - - --_The Characters._ - -One of the Characters described by Theophrastus is _The Stupid Man_, -and runs thus: - -“The stupid man is one who, after doing a sum and setting down the -total, will ask the person next him, ‘What does it come to?’” - -It is not beyond the bounds of possibility that this is the beginning -or at least the popularizing of the class of jests known as Noodles or -Noodle Stories. - -For all nations and races have folk-lore that details the sayings and -doings of the witless or silly. - -The Literature of the Orient abounds in these tales and European -stories of the same sort are equally abundant. - -The collection of jokes ascribed to Hierocles, may or may not have -been gathered by that Alexandrian philosopher. The only form in which -we may read them is said to have been made not earlier than the Ninth -Century, but the stories themselves are among the very earliest of the -traditional jests of all time. - -Some of these old jokemongers’ witticisms are capital--so good, in -fact, that the parentage of many of them has been claimed by modern -wits. No doubt we shall recognise some old friends as we read: - -I. A pedant (for so we must probably translate, in conventional -phrase, the pervading Scholastichus of the old jokemonger) wishing to -teach his horse not to eat much, gave him no food. Eventually the horse -died of starvation; and he complained to his friends, “I have suffered -a great loss, for just when I had taught my horse to live upon nothing -he died.” - -II. A pedant having bought a cask of wine, sealed it. But his slave -bored a hole and stole the wine. The master was amazed to find that, -though his seals were unbroken, the wine gradually diminished. Someone -suggested that he should examine whether it had been taken out from the -bottom. “Fool,” he replied, “it isn’t the lower part that’s gone. It’s -the upper.” - -III. A pedant suffered shipwreck in a tempest, and seeing the -passengers tie themselves to different articles on board, fastened -himself to one of the anchors. - -IV. Another had to cross a river, and went on board the ferry-boat on -horseback. Somebody asked him why he did so, and he replied because he -was in a hurry. - -V. Yet another, anxious to know whether he looked well when he was -asleep, stood before a looking-glass with his eyes shut to see. - -VI. A landlord, who had a house to sell, went about amongst his -friends, carrying a brick as a specimen. - -In connection with these stories may be cited the following, from a -Persian jest-book: A poor wrestler, who had passed all his life in -forests, resolved to try his fortune in a great city, and as he drew -near it he observed with wonder the crowds on the road, and thought, -“I shall certainly not be able to know myself among so many people if -I have not something about me that the others have not.” So he tied a -pumpkin to his right leg and, thus decorated, entered the town. A young -wag, perceiving the simpleton, made friends with him, and induced him -to spend the night at his house. While he was asleep, the joker removed -the pumpkin from his leg and tied it to his own, and then lay down -again. In the morning, when the poor fellow awoke and found the pumpkin -on his companion’s leg, he called to him, “Hey! get up, for I am -perplexed in my mind. Who am I, and who are you? If I am myself, why -is the pumpkin on your leg? And if you are yourself, why is the pumpkin -not on my leg?” - -Modern counterparts of the following jest are not far to seek: Quoth -a man to a pedant, “The slave I bought of you has died.” Rejoined the -other, “By the gods, I do assure you that he never once played me such -a trick while I had him.” The old Greek pedant is transformed into an -Irishman, in our collections of facetiæ, who applied to a farmer for -work. “I’ll have nothing to do with you,” said the farmer, “for the -last five Irishmen I had all died on my hands.” Quoth Pat, “Sure, sir, -I can bring you characters from half a dozen gentlemen I’ve worked for -that I never did such a thing.” And the jest is thus told in an old -translation of _Les Contes Facetieux de Sieur Gaulard_: “Speaking -of one of his Horses which broake his Neck at the descent of a Rock, he -said, Truly it was one of the handsomest and best Curtalls in all the -Country; he neuer shewed me such a trick before in all his life.” - -Equally familiar is the jest of the pedant who was looking out for a -place to prepare a tomb for himself, and on a friend indicating what he -thought to be a suitable spot, “Very true,” said the pedant, “but it is -unhealthy.” And we have the prototype of a modern “Irish” story in the -following: A pedant sealed a jar of wine, and his slaves perforated it -below and drew off some of the liquor. He was astonished to find his -wine disappear while the seal remained intact. A friend, to whom he -had communicated the affair, advised him to look and ascertain if the -liquor had not been drawn off from below. “Why, you fool,” said he, “it -is not the lower, but the upper, portion that is going off.” - -It was a Greek pedant who stood before a mirror and shut his eyes -that he might know how he looked when asleep--a jest which reappears -in Taylor’s _Wit and Mirth_ in this form: “A wealthy monsieur in -France (hauing profound reuenues and a shallow braine) was told by his -man that he did continually gape in his sleepe, at which he was angry -with his man, saying he would not belieue it. His man verified it to -be true; his master said that he would neuer belieue any that told -him so, except (quoth hee) I chance to see it with mine owne eyes; and -therefore I will have a great Looking glasse at my bed’s feet for the -purpose to try whether thou art a lying knaue or not.” - -Not unlike some of our “Joe Millers” is the following: A citizen -of Cumæ, on an ass, passed by an orchard, and seeing a branch of a -fig-tree loaded with delicious fruit, he laid hold of it, but the -ass went on, leaving him suspended. Just then the gardener came up, -and asked him what he did there. The man replied, “I fell off the -ass.”--An analogue to this drollery is found in an Indian story-book, -entitled _Kathȧ Manjari_: One day a thief climbed up a cocoanut -tree in a garden to steal the fruit. The gardener heard the noise, -and while he was running from his house, giving the alarm, the thief -hastily descended from the tree. “Why were you up that tree?” asked the -gardener. The thief replied, “My brother, I went up to gather grass for -my calf.” “Ha! ha! is there grass, then, on a cocoanut tree?” said the -gardener. “No,” quoth the thief; “but I did not know; therefore I came -down again.”--And we have a variant of this in the Turkish jest of the -fellow who went into a garden and pulled up carrots, turnips, and other -kinds of vegetables, some of which he put into a sack, and some into -his bosom. The gardener, coming suddenly on the spot, laid hold of him, -and said, “What are you seeking here?” The simpleton replied, “For some -days past a great wind has been blowing, and that wind blew me hither.” -“But who pulled up these vegetables?” “As the wind blew very violently, -it cast me here and there; and whatever I laid hold of in the hope of -saving myself remained in my hands.” “Ah,” said the gardener, “but who -filled this sack with them?” “Well, that is the very question I was -about to ask myself when you came up.” - -The Greek Anthology brings together short poems and epigrams written -during the thousand years between Simonides’ time and the sixth century -A.D. - -Collected shortly before the beginning of the Christian Era and added -to later, they comprise about four thousand five hundred specimens, by -three hundred authors. Few of these are witty, as, indeed, few are -epigrammatic, but of them we quote some which seem most appurtenant. - - - FROM THE GREEK ANTHOLOGY - - - LUCIAN - - _DARKNESS_ - - “A blockhead bit by fleas put out the light, - And, chuckling, cried, ‘Now you can’t see to bite!’” - - - CRATES - - _CURES FOR LOVE_ - - “Hunger, perhaps, may cure your love, - Or time your passion greatly alter; - If both should unsuccessful prove, - I strongly recommend a halter.” - - - JULIAN - - _BEER_ - - “What! whence this, Bacchus? For, by Bacchus’ self, - The son of Jove, I know not this strange elf. - The other smells like nectar; but thou here - Like the he-goat. Those wretched Celts, I fear, - For want of grapes, made thee of ears of corn. - Demetrius art thou, of Demeter born, - Not Bacchus, Dionysus, nor yet wine-- - Those names but fit the products of the vine; - Beer thou mayst be from barley; or, that failing, - We’ll call thee ale, for thou wilt keep us ailing.” - - - AGATHIAS - - _GRAMMAR AND MEDICINE_ - - “A thriving doctor sent his son to school - To gain some knowledge, should he prove no fool; - But took him soon away with little warning, - On finding out the lesson he was learning-- - How great Pelides’s wrath, in Homer’s rime, - Sent many souls to Hades ere their time. - ‘No need for this my boy should hither come; - That lesson he can better learn at home; - For I myself, now, I make bold to say, - Sent many souls to Hades ere their day, - Nor e’er found want of grammar stop my way.’” - - - NEARCHUS - - _A SINGER_ - - “Men die when the night-raven sings or cries; - But when Dick sings, e’en the night-raven dies.” - - - AMMIANUS - - _AN EPITAPH_ - - “Light lie the earth, Nearchus, on thy clay, - That so the dogs may easier find their prey.” - - - LUCILIUS - - _ENVY_ - - “Poor Diophon of envy died, - His brother thief to see - Nailed next to him and crucified - Upon a higher tree.” - - - _A PROFESSOR WITH A SMALL CLASS_ - - “Hail, Aristides, rhetoric’s great professor! - Of wondrous words we own thee the possessor. - Hail ye, his pupils seven, that mutely hear him-- - His room’s four walls, and the three benches near him.” - - - _FALSE CHARMS_ - - “Chloe, those locks of raven hair, - Some people say you dye with black; - But that’s a libel, I can swear, - For I know where you buy them black.” - - - _A SCHOOLMASTER WITH A GAY WIFE_ - - “You in your school forever flog and flay us, - Teaching what Paris did to Menelaus; - But all the while, within your private dwelling, - There’s many a Paris courting of your Helen.” - - - _BOARD OR LODGING_ - - “Asclepiades, the miser, in his house - Espied one day, to his surprise, a mouse. - ‘Tell me, dear mouse,’ he cried, ‘to what cause is it - I owe this pleasant but unlooked-for visit?’ - The mouse said, smiling, ‘Fear not for your hoard; - I come, my friend, to lodge, and not to board.’” - - - ANON - - _CONVENIENT PARTNERSHIP_ - - “Damon, who plied the undertaker’s trade, - With Doctor Crateas an agreement made. - What linens Damon from the dead could seize, - He to the doctor sent for bandages; - While the good doctor, here no promise-breaker, - Sent all his patients to the undertaker.” - - - ANON - - _LONG AND SHORT_ - - “Dick cannot blow his nose whene’er he pleases - His nose so long is, and his arm so short; - Nor ever cries, ‘God bless me!’ when he sneezes-- - He cannot hear so distant a report.” - - - ANON - - _THE LERNEANS_ - - “Lerneans are bad: not some bad and some not - But all; there’s not a Lernean in the lot, - Save Procles, that you could a good man call. - But Procles--is a Lernean, after all.” - - - ANON - - _PERPLEXITY_ - - “Sad Heraclitus, with thy tears return; - Life more than ever gives us cause to mourn. - Democritus, dear droll, revisit earth; - Life more than ever gives us cause for mirth. - Between you both I stand in thoughtful pother, - How I should weep with one, how laugh with t’other.” - -Beside his short poems, we quote a little of the prose of - - - LUCIAN - - _A QUESTION OF PRECEDENCE_ - - ZEUS, ÆSCULAPIUS, _and_ HERACLES - -“_Zeus._ Do, Æsculapius and Heracles, stop your wrangling, in -which you indulge as if you were a couple of mortals; for this sort of -behavior is unseemly, and quite strange to the banquets of the gods. - -“_Heracles._ But, Zeus, would you have that quack drug-dealer -there take his place at table above me? - -“_Æsculapius._ By Zeus, yes, for I am certainly the better man. - -“_Heracles._ How, you thunderstruck fellow, is it, pray, because -Zeus knocked you on the head with his bolt for your unlawful actions, -and because now, out of mere pity, by way of compensation, you have got -a share of immortality? - -“_Æsculapius._ What! have you, for your part, Heracles, altogether -forgotten your having been burned to ashes on Mount Œta, that you throw -in my teeth this fire you talk of? - -“_Heracles._ We have not lived at all an equal or similar sort of -life--I, who am the son of Zeus, and have undergone so many and great -labors, purifying human life, contending against and conquering wild -beasts, and punishing insolent and injurious men; whereas you are a -paltry herb-doctor and mountebank, skilful, possibly, in palming off -your miserable drugs upon sick fools, but who have never given proof of -any noble, manly disposition. - -“_Æsculapius._ You say well, seeing I healed your burns when you -came up but now half-burned, with your body all marred and destroyed by -the double cause of your death--the poisoned shirt, and afterward the -fire. Now I, if I have done nothing else, at least have neither worked -like a slave, as you have, nor have I carded wool in Lydia, dressed in -a fine purple gown; nor have I been beaten by that Omphale of yours, -with her golden slipper. No, nor did I, in a mad fit, kill my children -and my wife! - -“_Heracles._ If you don’t stop your ribald abuse of me at once, -you shall very speedily learn your immortality will not avail you much; -for I will take and pitch you head first out of heaven, so that not -even the wonderful Pæon himself shall cure you and your broken skull. - -“_Zeus._ Have done, I say, and don’t disturb the harmony of the -company, or I will pack both of you off from the supper-room; although, -to speak the truth, Heracles, it is fair and reasonable Æsculapius -should have precedence of you at table, inasmuch as he even took -precedence of you in death.” - - --“_Dialogues of the Gods._” - - - _ODYSSEUS’S TRICK ON POLYPHEMUS_ - - POSEIDON _and_ POLYPHEMUS - -“_Polyphemus._ Oh, father, what have I endured at the hands of the -cursed stranger, who made me drunk and put out my eye, assaulting me -when I was lulled to sleep! - -“_Poseidon._ Who dared to do this, my poor Polyphemus? - -“_Polyphemus._ In the first instance, he called himself Outis; but -when he had got clear away, and was out of reach of my arrow, he said -that his name was Odysseus. - -“_Poseidon._ I know whom you speak of--him of Ithaca, and he was -on his return voyage from Ilium. But how did he do it, for he is by no -means a man of too much courage? - -“_Polyphemus._ Returning from my accustomed attending of my flock, -I caught a number of fellows in my cave, evidently having designs on -my herds; for when I placed the stone block against the door--the rock -is of huge size--and had lighted the fire by igniting the tree which -I brought from the mountain, evidently they appeared to be trying -to conceal themselves. Well, when I had got hold of some of them I -devoured them for a pack of thieves, as was reasonable. Hereupon that -most villainous rascal, whether he was Outis or Odysseus, pours out a -sort of drug and gives me to drink--sweet, indeed, and of delicious -smell, but most insidious, and which caused great disorder in my head; -for, immediately upon my drinking, everything seemed to me to be in a -whirl, and the cave itself was turned upside down, and I was no longer -at all in my senses; and at last I was dragged down into sleep. Then -sharpening the bar, and igniting it besides, he blinded me as I slept, -and from that time I am a blind man, at your service, Poseidon. - -“_Poseidon._ How soundly you slept, my son, that you did not -jump up while you were being blinded! But as for this Odysseus, then, -how did he escape? For he could not--I am well assured that he could -not--move away the rock from the door. - -“_Polyphemus._ Yes, but it was I who removed it, that I might the -better catch him as he was going out; and, sitting down close to the -door, I groped for him with extended hands, letting only my sheep go -out to pasture, after having given instructions to the ram what he was -to do in my place. - -“_Poseidon._ I perceive: they slipped away unnoticed, under the -sheep. But you ought to have shouted, and called the rest of the -Cyclopes to your aid. - -“_Polyphemus._ I did summon them, father, and they came. But -when they asked the sneaking rascal’s name, and I said it was Outis, -thinking I was in a mad fit, they took themselves off at once. Thus the -cursed fellow tricked me with his name; and what especially vexes me -is, that he actually threw my misfortune in my teeth. ‘Not even,’ said -he, ‘will your father Poseidon cure you.’ - -“_Poseidon._ Never mind, my child, for I will revenge myself upon -him; he shall learn that, even if it is not possible for me to heal the -mutilation of people’s eyes, at all events the fate of voyagers is in -my hands. And he is still at sea.” - - --_Dialogues of the Sea-Gods._ - -Remembering that the dividing lines may not be too strictly drawn, we -close our survey of Greek Humor with some of the fragments of Menander. - -Menander, who was to the Middle or New Comedy what Aristophanes was -to the Old Comedy, left only fragments. One bit, rather longer than -the others, shows, with the inevitable animal element not lacking, a -surprisingly modern spirit of satire. - - “Suppose some god should say: Die when thou wilt, - Mortal, expect another life on earth; - And for that life make choice of all creation - What thou wilt be--dog, sheep, goat, man, or horse; - For live again thou must; it is thy fate; - Choose only in what form; there thou art free. - So help me, Crato, I would fairly answer - Let me be all things, anything but man. - He only of all creatures feels afflictions. - The generous horse is valued for his worth. - And dog by merit is preferred to dog, - And warrior cock is pampered for his courage, - And awes the baser brood. But what is man? - Truth, virtue, valour, how do they avail him? - Of this world’s good the first and greatest share - Is flattery’s prize. The informer takes the next. - And barefaced knavery garbles what is left. - I’d rather be an ass than what I am - And see these villains lord it o’er their betters.” - -Other Fragments of Menander follow. - - “Be off! these shams of golden tresses spare; - No honest woman ever dyes her hair.” - - “Better to have, if good you rightly measure, - Little with joy than much that brings not pleasure, - Scant means with peace than piles of anxious treasure.” - - “Marriage, if truth be told (of this be sure), - An evil is--but one we must endure.” - - “Wretched is he that has one son; or, rather, - More wretched he who of more sons is father.” - - “Think this, on marriage when your mind is set: - If the harm is small, ’tis the chief good you’ll get.” - - “Slave not for one who has been himself a slave; - Steers, loosed from ploughs, of toil small memory have.” - - “A handsome person, with perverted will, - Is a fine craft that’s handled without skill.” - - “Let not a friend your cherished secrets hear; - Then, if you quarrel, you’ve no cause for fear.” - - “More love a mother than a father shows: - He _thinks_ this is his son; she only _knows_.” - - “Fathers’ and lovers’ threats no truth have got. - They swear dire vengeance,--but they mean it not.” - - “Your petty tyrant’s insolence I hate; - If wrong is done me, be it from the great.” - - “A lie has often, I have known before, - More weight than truth, and people trust it more.” - - “Don’t talk of birth and family; all of those - Who have no natural worth on that repose. - Blue blood, grand pedigree, illustrious sires - He boasts of, who to nothing more aspires. - What use long ancestry your _pride_ to call? - One must have had them to be born at all! - And those who have no pedigree to show, - Or who their grandsires were but scantly know.” - - “From change of homes or lack of friends at need, - And so have lost all record of their breed, - Are not more “low-born” than your men of blood; - A nigger’s well-born, if he makes for good!” - -The following are a few more epigrammatic bits from the writings of -less noted contemporaries. - - - PHILIPPIDES - - ’Tis easy, while at meals you take your fill, - To say to sickly people, Don’t be ill! - Easy to blame bad boxing at a fight, - But not so for oneself to do it right. - Action is one thing, talk another quite. - - Your fortune differs as to bed and board; - Your wife--if ugly--can good fare afford. - - - DIPHILUS - - Learn, mortal, learn thy natural ills to bear: - These, these alone thou _must_ endure; but spare - A heavier load upon thyself to bring - By burdens that from thine own follies spring. - - When I am asked by some rich man to dine, - I mark not if the walls and roofs are fine, - Nor if the vases such as Corinth prizes,-- - But _solely_ how the smoke from cooking rises. - If dense it runs up in a column straight, - With fluttering heart the dinner-hour I wait. - If, thin and scant, the smoke-puffs sideway steal, - Then I forebode a thin and scanty meal. - - So plain is she, her father shuns the sight: - She holds out bread; no dog will take a bite. - So dark is she, that entering a room - Night seems to follow her, and all is gloom. - - - APOLLODORUS - - Sweet is a life apart from toil and care; - Blessed lot, with others such repose to share! - But if with beasts and apes you have to do, - Why, _you_ must play the brute and monkey too! - - In youth I felt for the untimely doom - Of offspring carried to an early tomb. - But now I weep when old men’s death I see; - That moved my pity; this comes home to _me_. - - Seek not, my son, an old man’s ways to spurn; - To these in old age you yourself will turn. - Herein we fathers lose a point you gain; - When you of “father’s cruelty” complain, - “_You_ once were young,” we tauntingly are told. - We can’t retort, “My son, you once were old.” - - - PART II - - - ROME - -The Roman Juvenal observed, “All Greece is a comedian.” But he could -not say the same of his own country. - -Though there was Roman Comedy and Roman Satire, the real and -spontaneous spirit of fun was conspicuously lacking in the tastes and -tendencies of the Romans. - -Glory is attributed to Greece and grandeur to Rome, and it may be the -“sudden glory” of humor was an integral part of the Grecian nature. - -Yet we must not differentiate too carefully between the two, for the -literature of Greece and Rome is so fused and intermingled that only a -historian may take up the chronological tabulation. - -For our purpose it is well to let the literature of the two countries -merge and continue the consideration of classic comedy without over -cautious regard for dates. - -The Greek influence on literature of all ages will never disappear, but -the Greek spirit of pure joy and gaiety will, probably never reappear. - -From the beginnings of Greece, on through the existence of Rome, -and down through the Mediæval Ages, the world of letters was -self-contained, a single proposition. From 500 B.C. to 1300 -A.D. the traditions of primal Greece and Rome continued to be -the common possession of all Europe. - -After that, literature became diverse and divergent among the -countries. It was independent as well as interdependent, but this -condition makes an inevitable division of time. - -Greece, Rome, Mediæval Times,--these are the three sections of the -Middle portion of this book. - -Rome, then, considered by herself, brought forth little quotable -humorous literature, and what we have to choose from is ponderous and -heavy. - -Like Greece, the first germs of Roman comic literature may be traced to -the religious festivals, which were marked by an admixture of religious -rites and riotous Bacchanalian orgies, where as the crowds danced and -sang and feasted, they became first hilarious and then abusive and -indecent. - -Like the Greeks, the Romans used grotesque masks, large enough to -represent face and hair, too, the duplicates of which we see decorating -our theater proscenium arches and drop curtains to this day. - -It would seem these masks were universally made use of in their -dramatic performances, for all caricatures and grotesque drawings show -them. - -In the burlesque entertainments there was a Buffoon, corresponding to -our clown, called a Sannio, from the Greek word meaning a fool. - -Later, undoubtedly, the Court Fool and the King’s Jester were the -natural successors of this character. - -In all these masks the features were exaggerated and made monstrous of -form and size. But one reason for the greatly enlarged mouth is that -it was so shaped in order to form a sort of speaking trumpet, that the -actors’ voices might be heard at greater distance. - -In contrast to the grotesquerie of enlargement, there was also a branch -of caricature which depicted the pigmies. - -The legend of the pigmies and cranes is as ancient, at least, as Homer, -and many examples are found in the buried cities of Herculaneum and -Pompeii. - -Comic Literature was not plentiful in the days of Early Rome. Up to the -second century B.C. we can glean but the two names, Plautus -and Terence. - -These two, nearly contemporary, founded their plays on the comedies of -Menander and a few other earlier dramatic writers. - -Perhaps twenty plays are left us from the hands of these two Romans, -and these, though pronounced amusing by scholars who can read the -original text, are not what the modern layman deems very humorous. - -A few examples of them will suffice. - - - PLAUTUS - - _MILITARY SWAGGER_ - - PYRGOPOLINICES, ARTOTROGUS, _and_ SOLDIERS - -_Pyrgopolinices._ Take care that the luster of my shield is more -bright than the rays of the sun when the sky is clear, that, when -occasion comes, the battle being joined, ’mid the fierce ranks right -opposite it may dazzle the eyesight of the enemy. But I must console -this saber of mine, that it may not lament nor be downcast in spirits, -because I have thus long been wearing it keeping holiday, though it so -dreadfully longs to make havoc of the enemy. But where is Artotrogus? - -_Artotrogus._ Here he is; he stands close by the hero, valiant and -successful, and of princely form. Mars could not dare to style himself -so great a warrior, nor compare his prowess with yours. - -_Pyrgopolinices._ Him you mean whom I spared on the Gorgonidonian -plains, where Bumbomachides Clytomestoridysarchides, the grandson of -Neptune, was the chief commander? - -_Artotrogus._ I remember him; him, I suppose you mean, with the -golden armor, whose legions you puffed away with your breath, just as -the wind blows away leaves or the reed-thatched roof. - -_Pyrgopolinices._ That, by my troth, was really nothing at all. - -_Artotrogus._ Faith, that really was nothing at all in comparison -with other things I could mention (_aside_) which you never did. -If any person ever beheld a more perjured fellow than this, or one more -full in vain boasting, let him have me for himself: I’ll become his -slave. - -_Pyrgopolinices._ What are you saying? - -_Artotrogus._ Why, that I remember in what fashion you broke the -foreleg of an elephant, in India, with your fist. - -_Pyrgopolinices._ How--the foreleg? - -_Artotrogus._ I meant to say the thigh. - -_Pyrgopolinices._ I struck the blow without an effort. - -_Artotrogus._ Troth, if, indeed, you had put forth your strength, -your arm would have passed right through the hide, the entrails, and -the frontispiece of the elephant. - -_Pyrgopolinices._ I don’t care to talk about these things just now. - -_Artotrogus._ I’ faith, ’tis really not worth while for you to -tell me of it, who know your prowess well. (_Aside._) My appetite -creates all these tales. I must hear him right out with my ears, that -my teeth mayn’t have time to grow, and whatever lie he shall tell I -must agree to it. - -_Pyrgopolinices._ What was it I was saying? - -_Artotrogus._ Oh, I know what you were going to say just now. I’ -faith ’twas bravely done; I remember its being done. - -_Pyrgopolinices._ What was that? - -_Artotrogus._ Whatever it was you were going to say. - -_Pyrgopolinices._ Have you got your tablets? - -_Artotrogus._ Are you intending to enlist some one? I have them, -and a pen as well. - -_Pyrgopolinices._ How quickly you guess my thoughts! - -_Artotrogus._ ’Tis fit that I should study your inclinations, so -that whatever you wish should first occur to me. - -_Pyrgopolinices._ What do you remember? - -_Artotrogus._ I do remember this: In Cilicia there were a hundred -and fifty men, a hundred in Cryphiolathronia, thirty at Sardis, sixty -men of Macedon, whom you slaughtered altogether in one day. - -_Pyrgopolinices._ What is the sum total of those men? - -_Artotrogus._ Seven thousand. - -_Pyrgopolinices._ It must be as much; you keep the reckoning well. - -_Artotrogus._ Yet I have none of them written down; still, I -remember it was so. - -_Pyrgopolinices._ By my troth, you have a right good memory. - -_Artotrogus_ (_aside_). ’Tis the flesh-pots give it a fillip. - -_Pyrgopolinices._ So long as you shall do as you have done -hitherto, you shall always have something to eat; I will always make -you a partaker at my table. - -_Artotrogus._ Besides, in Cappadocia you would have killed five -hundred men altogether at one blow, had not your saber been blunt. - -_Pyrgopolinices._ I let them live, because I was quite sick of -fighting. - -_Artotrogus._ Why should I tell you what all mortals know, that -you, Pyrgopolinices, live upon the earth with your valor, beauty, and -achievements unsurpassed? All the women are in love with you, and that -not without reason, since you are so handsome. Witness those girls that -pulled me by my mantle yesterday. - -_Pyrgopolinices._ What was it they said to you? - -_Artotrogus._ They questioned me about you. “Is Achilles here?” -says one to me. “No,” says I, “his brother is.” Then says the other to -me, “By my troth, but he is a handsome and a noble man. See how his -long hair becomes him! Certainly the women are lucky who share his -favors.” - -_Pyrgopolinices._ And pray, did they really say so? - -_Artotrogus._ They both entreated me to bring you past today, so -that they might see you. - -_Pyrgopolinices._ ’Tis really a very great plague to a man to be -too handsome! - -_Artotrogus._ They are quite a nuisance to me; they are praying, -entreating, beseeching me to let them see you; sending for me for that -purpose, so that I can’t give my attention to your business. - -_Pyrgopolinices._ It seems that it is time for us to go to the -Forum, that I may count out their pay to those soldiers whom I lately -enlisted; for King Seleucus entreated me with most earnest suit that -I would raise and enlist recruits for him. To that business I have -resolved to devote my attention this day. - -_Artotrogus._ Come, let’s be going, then. - -_Pyrgopolinices._ Guards, follow me. - - --_The Braggart Captain._ - - - _THE SUSPICIOUS MISER_ - - MEGADORUS _and_ EUNOMIA - -_Eunomia._ Tell me pray, who is she whom you would like to take -for a wife? - -_Megadorus._ I’ll tell you. Do you know that Euclio, the poor old -man close by? - -_Eunomia._ I know him; not a bad sort of man. - -_Megadorus._ I’d like his maiden daughter to be promised me in -marriage. Don’t make any words about it, sister; I know what you are -going to say--that she’s poor. This poor girl pleases me. - -_Eunomia._ May the gods prosper it! - -_Megadorus._ I hope the same. - -_Eunomia._ Do you wish me to stay for anything else? - -_Megadorus._ No; farewell. - -_Eunomia._ And to you the same, brother. - - (_Goes into the house._) - -_Megadorus._ I’ll go to see Euclio, if he’s at home. But, ah! here -comes the very man toward his own house! - - _Enter_ EUCLIO - -_Euclio_ (_to himself_). I had a presentiment that I was -going out to no purpose when I left my house, and therefore I went -unwillingly; for neither did any one of the wardsmen come, nor yet -the master of the ward, who ought to have distributed the money. Now -I’m making all haste to hasten home; for, though I myself am here, my -mind’s at home. - -_Megadorus._ May you be well, and ever fortunate, Euclio! - -_Euclio._ May the gods bless you, Megadorus! - -_Megadorus._ How are you? Are you quite well and contented? - -_Euclio_ (_aside_). It isn’t for nothing when a rich man -accosts a poor man courteously. Now, this fellow knows that I’ve got -some gold; for that reason he salutes me more courteously. - -_Megadorus._ Do you say that you are well? - -_Euclio._ Oh, I’m not very well in the money line. - -_Megadorus._ But if you’ve a contented mind, you have enough for -passing a happy life with. - -_Euclio_ (_aside_). By my faith, the old woman has made a -discovery to him about the gold; it is clear she has told him. I’ll cut -off her tongue, and tear out her eyes, when I get home. - -_Megadorus._ Why are you talking to yourself? - -_Euclio._ I’m lamenting my poverty. I’ve a grown-up girl without a -portion, and one that can’t be disposed of in marriage; nor am I able -to marry her to anybody. - -_Megadorus._ Hold your peace; be of good courage, Euclio; she -shall have a husband; you shall be assisted by myself. If you have need -of help, command me. - -_Euclio_ (_aside_). Now he is aiming at my property, while -he’s making promises. He’s gaping for my gold, that he may devour it; -in the one hand he is carrying a stone, while he shows the bread in the -other. I trust no person who, rich himself, is exceedingly courteous -to a poor man; when he extends his hand with a kind air, then is he -loading you with some damage. I know these polyps, who, when they’ve -touched a thing, hold it fast. - -_Megadorus._ Give me your attention, Euclio, for a little while; -I wish to speak a few words to you about a common concern of yours and -mine. - -_Euclio_ (_aside_). Alas! wo is me! My gold has been carried -off from my house. Now he’s wishing for this thing, I’m sure, to come -to a compromise with me; but I’ll look in my house first. - - (_He goes toward his door._) - -_Megadorus._ Where are you going? - -_Euclio._ I’ll return to you directly, for there’s something I -must go and see to at home. - - (_Goes into his house._) - -_Megadorus._ I verily believe that when I make mention of his -daughter, for him to promise her to me, he’ll suppose that I am -laughing at him; for I do not know of any man poorer than he. - - EUCLIO _returns from his house_ - -_Euclio_ (_aside_). The gods favor me; my property’s all -safe. If nothing’s lost, it’s safe. I was dreadfully afraid before I -went indoors. I was almost dead. (_Aloud._) I’m come back to you, -Megadorus, if you wish to say anything to me. - -_Megadorus._ I thank you. I beg that as to what I shall inquire of -you, you’ll not hesitate to speak out boldly. - -_Euclio._ So long, indeed, as you inquire nothing that I mayn’t -choose to speak out upon. - -_Megadorus._ Tell me, of what sort of family do you consider me to -be sprung? - -_Euclio._ Of a good one. - -_Megadorus._ What do you think about my character? - -_Euclio._ It’s a good one. - -_Megadorus._ What of my conduct? - -_Euclio._ Neither bad nor dishonest. - -_Megadorus._ Do you know my age? - -_Euclio._ I know that you are as rich in years as in pocket. - -_Megadorus._ I surely did always take you to be a citizen without -evil guile, and now I am convinced. - -Euclio (_aside_). He smells the gold. (_Aloud._) What do you -want with me now? - -_Megadorus._ Since you know me, and I know you, what sort of -person you are, may it bring a blessing on myself, and you and your -daughter, if I now ask your daughter as my wife. Promise me that it -shall be so. - -_Euclio._ Heyday! Megadorus, you are doing a deed that’s not -becoming to your usual actions, in laughing at me, a poor man, and -guiltless toward yourself and toward your family. For neither in act, -nor in words, have I ever deserved it of you that you should do what -you are doing now. - -_Megadorus._ I vow that I neither came to laugh at you nor am I -laughing at you, nor do I think you deserving of it. - -_Euclio._ Why, then, do you ask my daughter for yourself? - -_Megadorus._ Because I believe that the match would be a good -thing for all of us. - -_Euclio._ It suggests itself to my mind, Megadorus, that you are a -wealthy man, a man of rank, and that I am the poorest of the poor. Now, -if I should give my daughter in marriage to you, it suggests itself to -my mind that you are the ox, and that I am the ass; when I’m yoked to -you, and when I’m not able to bear the burden equally with yourself, -I, the ass, must lie down in the mire; you, the ox, would regard me no -more than if I had never been born. I should then feel aggrieved, and -my own class would laugh at me. In neither direction should I have a -fixed stall, if there should be a divorce; the asses would tear me with -their teeth, the oxen would butt at me with their horns. This is the -great risk, in my passing over from the asses to the oxen. - -_Megadorus._ The nearer you can unite yourself in alliance with -honorable people the better. Do you receive this proposal, listen to -me, and promise her to me. - -_Euclio._ But there is no marriage portion, I tell you. - -_Megadorus._ You are to give none; so long as she comes with good -principles, she is sufficiently portioned. - -_Euclio._ I say so for this reason, that you mayn’t be supposing -that I have found any treasures. - -_Megadorus._ I know that; don’t enlarge upon it. Promise her to me. - -_Euclio._ So be it. (_Starts and looks about._) But, oh, -Jupiter, am I not utterly undone? - -_Megadorus._ What’s the matter with you? - -_Euclio._ What was it sounded just now as though it were iron? - -_Megadorus._ I ordered them to dig up the garden at my place. (EUCLIO -_runs off into his house._) But where has this man gone? He’s off, and -he hasn’t fully answered me; he treats me with contempt. Because he -sees that I wish for his friendship, he acts after the usual manner -of mankind. For if a wealthy person goes to ask a favor of a poorer -one, the poor man is afraid to treat with him; through suspicion he -hurts his own interest. The same person, when this opportunity is lost, -afterward wishes for it too late. - -_Euclio_ (_coming out of the house, addressing servant within_). By -the powers, if I don’t give you up to have your tongue cut out by the -roots, I order and I authorize you to hand me over to any one you -please, to be mutilated. - -_Megadorus._ By my troth, Euclio, I perceive that you consider me -a fit man for you to make sport of in my old age, for no fault of my -own. - -_Euclio._ I’ faith, Megadorus, I am not doing so, nor should I -desire it were I able to. - -_Megadorus._ Well, then, do you betroth your daughter to me? - -_Euclio._ On those terms, and with that portion which I mentioned -to you. - -_Megadorus._ Do you promise her, then? - -_Euclio._ I do promise her. - -_Megadorus._ May the gods bestow their blessings on it! - -_Euclio._ May the gods do so! Observe and remember that we’ve -agreed, that my daughter is not to bring you any portion. - -_Megadorus._ I remember it. - -_Euclio._ But I understand in what fashion people are wont -to equivocate; an agreement is no agreement, no agreement is an -agreement--just as it pleases you. - -_Megadorus._ I’ll have no misunderstanding with you. But what -reason is there why we shouldn’t have the nuptials this day? - -_Euclio._ Why, by my troth, there is very good reason why we -should. - -_Megadorus._ I’ll go, then, and prepare matters. Do you want me -for anything more? - -_Euclio._ All is settled. Farewell. - -_Megadorus_ (_going to the door of his house and calling -out_). Hullo! Strobilus, follow me quickly to the meat-market. - - (_Exit_ MEGADORUS.) - -_Euclio._ He has gone. Immortal gods, I do beseech you! How -powerful is gold! I do believe, now, that he has had some intimation -that I’ve got a treasure at home. He’s gaping for that; for the sake of -that has he persisted in this alliance! - - --_The Pot of Gold._ - - - TERENCE - - _PARASITES AND GNATHONITES_ - -_Gnathonites_ (_soliloquizing_). Immortal gods! how far does one man -excel another! What a difference there is between a wise person and a -fool! This came strongly into my mind from the following circumstance. -As I was walking along to-day I met a certain individual of this place, -of my own rank and station--no mean fellow--one who, like myself, had -guttled away his paternal estate. I saw him, shabby, dirty, sickly, -beset with rags and years. “What’s the meaning of this garb?” said I. -He answered, “Wretch that I am, I’ve lost what I possessed; see to -what I am reduced; all my acquaintances and friends have forsaken me.” -On this I felt contempt for him as in comparison with myself. “What!” -said I, “you pitiful sluggard, have you so managed matters as to have -no hope left? Have you lost your wits together with your estate? Don’t -you see me, who have risen from the same condition? What a complexion -I have, how spruce and well dressed, what portliness of person? I have -everything, yet have nothing; and although I possess nothing, still I -am in want of nothing.” “But I,” said he, “unhappily, can no longer -find anybody who will feed me in exchange for making me the butt of -his jokes.” “What!” said I, “do you suppose it is managed by those -means? You are quite mistaken. Once upon a time, in the early ages, -there was a calling of that sort; but I will tell you a new mode of -coney-catching; I, in fact, have been the first to strike into this -path. There is a class of men who strive to be the first in everything, -but are not; to these I pay my court. I do not offer myself to them -to be laughed at, but I am the first to laugh with them, and at the -same time to admire their parts. Whatever they say, I commend; if -they contradict that selfsame thing, I commend again. Does any one -deny? I deny; does he affirm? I affirm. In fine, I have so trained -myself as to humor them in everything. This calling is now by far -the most productive.” While we were thus talking, we arrived at the -market-place. Overjoyed, all the confectioners ran at once to meet -me; fishmongers, butchers, cooks, sausage-makers, fishermen, whom, -both when my fortunes were flourishing and when they were ruined, I -had served, and often serve still; they complimented me, asked me to -dinner, and gave me a hearty welcome. When this poor hungry wretch -saw that I was in such great esteem, and that I obtained a living so -easily, then the fellow began to entreat me that I would allow him -to learn this method of me. So I bade him become my follower--if he -could. As the disciples of the philosophers take their names from the -philosophers themselves, so, too, the Parasites ought to be called -Gnathonites.--_Eunuchus._ - -At the beginning of the Christian Era, Roman Literature writers had -begun to come into their own, and the first century A.D. saw -many of the greatest Romans of them all in the paths of Literature. - -Catullus, the blithe poet who left us some hundred or so of his poems, -frequently wrote lines more lyrical than chaste. Yet he himself bids -us remember that if a poet’s life be chaste, his lines need not -necessarily be so, too. - -As Herrick later put it, “Jocund his muse was, but his life was chaste.” - -But the self-revelations of Catullus are probably no more improper to -read than those of many later and lesser poets. - - - CATULLUS - - _THE ROMAN COCKNEY_ - - _Stipends_ Anius even on opportunity _shtipends_, - _Ambush_ as _hambush_ still Anius used to declaim; - Then, hoped fondly the words were a marvel of articulation, - While with an _h_ immense _hambush_ arose from his heart. - So his mother of old, so e’en spoke Liber his uncle, - Credibly; so grandsire, grandam, alike did agree. - - Syria took him away; all ears had rest for a moment; - Lightly the lips those words, slightly could utter again. - None was afraid any more of a sound so clumsy returning; - Sudden a solemn fright seized us: a message arrives. - “News from Sonia country; the sea, since Anius entered, - Changed; ’twas _Ionian_ once, now ’twas _Hionian_ all.” - - - _A FIXED SMILE_ - - Egnatius, spruce owner of superb white teeth, - Smiles sweetly, smiles forever. Is the bench in view, - Where stands the pleader just prepared to rouse our tears, - Egnatius smiles sweetly. Near the pyre they mourn, - Where weeps a mother o’er the lost, the kind, one son; - Egnatius smiles sweetly--what the time, or place, - Or thing soe’er, smiles sweetly. Such a rare complaint - Is his, not handsome, scarce to please the town, say I. - - So take a warning for the nonce my friend; town-bred - Were you, a Sabine hale, a pearly Tiburtine, - A frugal Umbrian body, Tuscan, huge of paunch, - A grim Samnian, black of hue, prodigious-tooth’d, - A Transpadane, my country not to pass untaxed-- - In short, whoever cleanly cares to rinse foul teeth; - Yet sweetly smiling ever I would have you not: - For silly laughter, it’s a silly thing indeed. - -Of Horace it is difficult to say anything without saying too much. - -In this Outline there is no space for discussion, informative or -discursive, of the writers, it is our province but to name them and to -give examples of their humor. - -Horace was not a comedian but in his Satires, as well as in some of his -other works, the comic muse is discernible. - - - HORACE - - _OBTRUSIVE COMPANY ON THE SACRED WAY_ - - Along the Sacred Road I strolled one day, - Deep in some bagatelle (you know my way), - When up comes one whose name I scarcely knew: - “Ah, dearest of dear fellows, how d’ye do?” - He grasped my hand: “Well, thanks; the same to you.” - Then, as he still kept walking by my side, - To cut things short, “You’ve no commands?” I cried. - “Nay, you should know me; I’m a man of lore.” - “Sir, I’m your humble servant all the more.” - All in a fret to make him let me go, - I now walk fast, now loiter and walk slow, - Now whisper to my servant, while the sweat - Ran down so fast my very feet were wet. - “Oh, had I but a temper worth the name, - Like yours, Bolanus!” inly I exclaim, - While he keeps running on at a hand-trot - About the town, the streets, I know not what. - Finding I made no answer, “Ah, I see - You’re at a strait to rid yourself of me; - But ’tis no use; I’m a tenacious friend, - And mean to hold you till your journey’s end.” - “No need to take you such a round; I go - To visit an acquaintance you don’t know. - Poor man, he’s ailing at his lodging, far - Beyond the bridge, where Cæsar’s gardens are.” - “Oh, never mind; I’ve nothing else to do, - And want a walk, so I’ll step on with you.” - Down go my ears in donkey-fashion, straight; - You’ve seen them do it, when their load’s too great. - “If I mistake not,” he begins, “you’ll find - Viscus not more, nor Varius, to your mind; - There’s not a man can turn a verse so soon, - Or dance so nimbly when he hears a tune; - While, as for singing--ah, my forte is there; - Tigellius’ self might envy me, I’ll swear.” - He paused for breath. I falteringly strike in: - “Have you a mother? Have you kith or kin - To whom your life is precious?” “Not a soul; - My line’s extinct; I have interred the whole.” - Oh, happy they! (so into thought I fell) - After life’s endless babble they sleep well. - My turn is next: despatch me, for the weird - Has come to pass which I so long have feared, - The fatal weird a Sabine beldame sung - All in my nursery days, when life was young: - “No sword nor poison e’er shall take him off, - Nor gout, nor pleurisy, nor racking cough; - A babbling tongue shall kill him; let him fly - All talkers, as he wishes not to die.” - We got to Vesta’s temple, and the sun - Told us a quarter of the day was done. - It chanced he had a suit, and was bound fast - Either to make appearance or be cast. - “Step here a moment, if you love me.” “Nay, - I know no law; ’twould hurt my health to stay. - And then, my call.” “I’m doubting what to do, - Whether to give my lawsuit up, or you.” - “Me, pray!” “I will not.” On he strides again. - I follow, unresisting, in his train. - “How stand you with Mæcenas?” he began; - “He picks his friends with care--a shrewd, wise man. - In fact, I take it, one could hardly name - A head so cool in life’s exciting game. - ’Twould be a good deed done, if you could throw - Your servant in his way; I mean, you know. - Just to play second. In a month, I’ll swear, - You’d make an end of every rival there.” - “Oh, you mistake; we don’t live there in league; - I know no house more sacred from intrigue; - I’m never distanced in my friend’s good grace - By wealth or talent; each man finds his place.” - “A miracle! If ’twere not told by you, - I scarce should credit it.” “And yet ’tis true.” - “Ah, well, you double my desire to rise - To special favor with a man so wise.” - “You’ve but to wish it; ’twill be your own fault, - If, with your nerve, you win not by assault. - He can be won; that puts him on his guard, - And so the first approach is always hard.” - “No fear of me, sir. A judicious bribe - Will work a wonder with the menial tribe. - Say I’m refused admittance for to-day, - I’ll watch my time; I’ll meet him in the way, - Escort him, dog him. In this world of ours - The path to what we want ne’er runs on flowers.” - ’Mid all this prating met me, as it fell, - Aristius, my good friend, who knew him well. - We stop. Inquiries and replies go round: - “Where do you hail from?” “Whither are you bound?” - There as he stood, impassive like a clod, - I pull at his limp arms, frown, wink, and nod, - To urge him to release me. With a smile - He feigns stupidity. I burn with bile. - “Something there was you said you wished to tell - To me in private.” “Aye, I mind it well; - But not just now. ’Tis a Jews’ fast to-day: - Affront a sect so touchy? Nay, friend, nay!” - “Faith, I’ve no scruples.” “Ah, but I’ve a few! - I’m weak, you know, and do as others do. - Some other time--excuse me.” Wretched me, - That ever man so black a sun should see! - Off goes the rogue, and leaves me in despair, - Tied to the altar, with the knife in air, - When, by rare chance, the plaintiff in the suit - Knocks up against us: “Whither now, you brute?” - He roars like thunder. Then to me: “You’ll stand - My witness, sir?” “My ear’s at your command.” - Off to the court he drags him; shouts succeed; - A mob collects--thank Phœbus, I am freed! - --_Satires._ - -The humorist feels a sense of personal grievance against the Roman -writers for that they wrote so wisely and so well, yet gave us so -little that can be used as Humor for Humor’s sake. - -Petronius wrote engagingly, but with such indecency that he can scarce -be quoted for polite society. - -His Trimalchio’s Dinner offers this: - - - _AN INGENIOUS COOK_ - -We little thought, as the saying is, that after so many dainties we had -another hill to climb; for the table being uncovered to a flourish of -music, three muzzled white hogs were brought in, with bells hanging on -their necks. The man leading them said one was two years old, the other -three, and the last full grown. For my part, I took them for acrobats, -and imagined the hogs were to perform some of the surprising feats -practised at the circus. But Trimalchio broke in upon our expectation -by asking us, “Which of these will you have dressed for supper? Cocks -and pheasants are country fare, but my cooks have pans in which a -calf can be roasted whole.” And immediately commanding a cook to be -called, Trimalchio, without waiting for our choice, bade him kill the -largest. He then inquired of the cook how he came by him saying, “Were -you bought, or were you born in my house?” “Neither,” replied the -cook, “but left you by Pansa’s testament.” “Then see to it,” answered -Trimalchio, “that this beast is prepared quickly, or I shall make you -serve my footmen.” ... - -While our host was talking on, an overgrown hog was brought to table. -We all wondered at the expedition which had been used, swearing a -capon could not have been dressed in that time; and what increased -our surprise was that this hog seemed larger than the boar which -had been set before us. Trimalchio, after gazing steadfastly upon -him, exclaimed, “What! have his entrails not been taken out? No, by -Hercules, they have not! Bring in that rogue of a cook!” The cook, -being dragged in before us, hung his head, excusing himself that he -had forgotten. “Forgotten!” roared his master. “Strip the rascal! -Strip him!” The poor man was stripped forthwith, and placed between -two tormentors. We all interceded for him, alleging that such an error -might occasionally happen, and therefore desired his pardon, protesting -we would never speak for him if he repeated the same offense. - -I thought he richly deserved his fate, and could not forbear whispering -to Agamemnon, “This must certainly be a most careless rascal. How could -any one forget to disembowel a hog? I would not have forgiven him, -by Hercules, had he thus served up a dish for me!” Our host, resuming -a pleasant look, said, “Come, now, you with the short memory, let us -see if you can disembowel the animal before us.” Upon which the cook, -having put his garments on again, took his knife, and with a trembling -hand slashed the hog on both sides of the belly, when out tumbled a -load of hog’s-puddings and sausages.... - -The dessert consisted of a blackbird pie, dried grapes, and candied -nuts. There were also quinces, stuck so full of spices that they looked -like so many hedgehogs. Yet all this might have been endured, had not -the next dish been so monstrous and disgusting that we would rather -have perished of hunger than touched it; for, it being placed upon -the table, and, as we imagined, a good fat goose, with fish and all -kinds of fowl round it, Trimalchio cried, “Whatever you see here is -all made out of one body!” I, being a cunning spark, took a guess at -what it might really be, and, turning to Agamemnon, “I wonder,” said -I, “whether all this is not made of loam? I once remember seeing such -an imaginary dish in the Saturnalia at Rome.” Scarce had I ended, when -Trimalchio began to praise his cook: - -“There is no cleverer fellow in the world. Out of the belly he’ll make -you a dish of fish; a plover out of a piece of fat bacon; a turtle out -of leg of pork; and a hen out of the intestines. And therefore, in my -opinion, he has a very suitable name, for we call him Dædalus. Because -he is such an ingenious fellow, a friend of his brought him a present -of knives from Rome, of German steel; and immediately he called for -them, and, turning them over, gave us the liberty to try the edges on -his cheeks.” - -Just then in rushed two servants in high dispute, as if they were -quarreling about a yoke, from which hung two earthen jars. And when -Trimalchio had judged between them, neither of them stood to the -sentence, but each fell to club law, and broke the other’s jar. Amazed -at the insolence of these drunken rascals, all our eyes were fixed on -their conflict, when we perceived oysters and other shell-fish to fall -from the broken jars, a boy collecting them in a charger and handing -them about among the guests. - -Nor was the cook’s ingenuity in the least unworthy of this -extraordinary magnificence; for he brought us snails upon a silver -gridiron, and with a shrill, unpleasant voice sang us a song.... We -were almost pushed off our couches by the crowd of servants who rushed -into the hall; and who should be seated above me but the ingenious -cook, that had made a goose from a piece of pork, all reeking of -pickles and kitchen slops. Not content with being seated at table, -he began to act Thespis the Tragedian; and soon after he challenged -his master to contend with him for the laurel wreath at the next -chariot-races. - - --_Trimalchio’s Banquet._ - -Persius, who died at twenty-eight, left us six satires. Though an -imperfect imitator of Horace, his work is characterized by earnestness -and a true sense of satire. - - - _POETIC FAME_ - - Immured within our studies, we compose; - Some, shackled meter; some, freefooted prose; - But all, bombast--stuff, which the breast may strain, - And the huge lungs puff forth with awkward pain. - ’Tis done! And now the bard, elate and proud, - Prepares a grand rehearsal for the crowd. - Lo! he steps forth in birthday splendor bright, - Combed and perfumed, and robed in dazzling white, - And mounts the desk; his pliant throat he clears, - And deals, insidious, round his wanton leers; - While Rome’s first nobles, by the prelude wrought, - Watch, with indecent glee, each prurient thought, - And squeal with rapture, as the luscious line - Thrills through the marrow and inflames the chine. - Vile dotard! Canst thou thus consent to please, - To pander for such itching fools as these? - Fools, whose applause must shoot beyond thy aim, - And tinge thy cheek, bronzed as it is, with shame! - But wherefore have I learned, if, thus represt, - The leaven still must swell within my breast; - If the wild fig-tree, deeply rooted there, - Must never burst its bounds and shoot in air? - Are these the fruits of study, these of age? - Oh, times, oh, manners! Thou misjudging sage, - Is science only useful as ’tis shown, - And is thy knowledge nothing if not known? - But, sure, ’tis pleasant, as we walk, to see - The pointed finger, hear the loud “That’s he!” - On every side. And seems it, in your sight, - So poor a trifle, that whate’er we write - Is introduced to every school of note - And taught the youth of quality by rote? - Nay, more! Our nobles, gorged, and swilled with wine, - Call, o’er the banquet, for a lay divine. - Here one, on whom the princely purple glows. - Snuffles some musty legend through his nose, - Slowly distils Hypsipyle’s sad fate, - And love-lorn Phyllis dying for her mate, - With what of woful else is said or sung, - And trips up every word with lisping tongue. - The maudlin audience, from the couches round, - Hum their assent, responsive to the sound. - And are not now the poet’s ashes blest? - Now lies the turf not lightly on his breast? - They pause a moment, and again the room - Rings with his praise. Now will not roses bloom, - Now, from his relics, will not violets spring, - And o’er his hallowed urn their fragrance fling? - You laugh (’tis answered), and too freely here - Indulge that vile propensity to sneer. - Lives there, who would not at applause rejoice, - And merit, if he could the public voice? - Who would not leave posterity such rimes, - As cedar oil might keep to latest times-- - Rimes which should fear no desperate grocer’s hand, - Nor fly with fish and spices through the land? - Thou, my kind monitor, whoe’er thou art, - Whom I suppose to play the opponent’s part, - Know, when I write, if chance some happier strain - (And chance it needs must be) rewards my pain, - Know, I can relish praise with genuine zest; - Not mine the torpid, mine the unfeeling breast. - But that I merely toil for this acclaim, - And make these eulogies my end and aim, - I must not, cannot grant. For--sift them all, - Mark well their value, and on what they fall-- - Are they not showered (to pass these trifles o’er) - On Labeo’s Iliad, drunk with hellebore, - On princely love-lays driveled without thought, - And the crude trash on citron couches wrought? - You spread the table, ’tis a master-stroke, - And give the shivering guest a threadbare cloak; - Then, while his heart with gratitude dilates - At the glad vest and the delicious cates, - “Tell me,” you cry, “for truth is my delight, - What says the town of me, and what I write?” - He cannot; he has neither ears nor eyes. - But shall I tell you who your bribes despise? - Bald trifler! cease at once your thriftless trade; - That mountain paunch for verse was never made. - --_Satires._ - -In Martial we find a humorist after our own heart. As Homer was the -father of poetry and Herodotus the father of prose, so to Martial must -be ascribed the paternity of the epigram. - -Epigrams, so-called, had been made before, but in Martial’s work they -rose to a new height, took on a new meaning. - -Before Martial, epigram meant merely inscription,--any short poem that -might conveniently be cut on stone. - -Martial’s epigrams have keen wit and sharp point, such as appeal to the -mind and appreciation of the reader. - -Fourteen hundred and fifty is his legacy of epigrams to us, and most of -them properly short, as an epigram should be. - - - _TO SABIDIUS_ - - I love thee not, Sabidius. But why? - I love thee not--that’s all I can reply. - - - _PLAY’S THE THING_ - - Aper pierced his wife’s heart with an arrow: - While playing, friends say. - The wife was exceedingly wealthy: - He knows how to play. - - - _TO CATULLUS_ - - My name’s in your will as your heir, - So you’ve said. - I’ll continue to doubt till the day-- - When it’s read. - - - _BETWEEN THE LINES_ - - The man who sends you presents, Gaurus,-- - You so rich and gray-- - Remarks, if you’ve got sense and insight, - “Kindly pass away.” - - - _TO AULUS_ - - Though my readers sincerely admire me, - A poet finds fault with my books. - What’s the odds? When I’m giving a dinner - I’d rather please guests than the cooks. - - - _TO POSTUMUS_ - - When you kiss me you use only half of your mouth. - I approve. Half that half, though, will do. - Will you grant me a greater, ineffable boon? - Keep the rest of that latter half, too. - - - _ROUNDED WITH A SLEEP_ - - Though he bathed with us yesterday, dined with us, too, - And was quite in the pink of condition, - Ancus died this A.M.--of a dream that he’d asked - Hermocrates to be his physician. - - - _VENDETTA_ - - Though it’s true, Theodorus, you frequently pray - For my book in a flattering tone, - No wonder I’m slow; I’ve good cause for delay - In my fear you’d then send me your own. - - - _A MERE SUGGESTION_ - - You read us your verse with your throat wrapped in wool. - The reason we’re anxious to know, - For to us it appears - That some wool in our ears - Would really be more apropos. - - - _WHAT MIGHT HAVE BEEN_ - - I hear that Lycoris has buried - Every friend that she’s had in her life. - I sincerely regret, Fabianus, - She’s not introduced to my wife. - - - _A TOTAL ABSTAINER_ - - Though you serve richest wines, - Paulus, Rumor opines - That they poisoned your four wives, I think. - It’s of course all a lie; - None believes less than I-- - No, I really don’t care for a drink. - - - _MUTE MILLIONS_ - - In the verse Cinna writes - I am slandered, it’s said. - But the man doesn’t write - Whose verses aren’t read. - - - _MAN AND SUPERMAN_ - - “Quintus loves Thais.” What Thais is that? - “Why, Thais the one-eyed, who--” Who? - Well, I was aware - She’d lost one of her pair, - But I didn’t know he had lost two. - - - _TO LINUS_ - - You ask what I grow on my Sabine estate. - A reliable answer is due. - I grow on that soil-- - Far from urban turmoil-- - Very happy at not seeing you. - - - _CREDE EXPERTO_ - - Diaulus left his doctoring - To practise undertaking. - His training as a medic, though, - Has really been his making. - - - _NUMBERS SWEET_ - - Two of your teeth were blown out by a cough, - And a subsequent cough blew out two. - You can now cough away, Delia, all night and day-- - There’s nothing a third cough can do. - - - _MILLIONS IN IT_ - - Just _give_ Linus half what he asks as a loan; - Then console - Yourself with the thought that you’d rather lose half - Than the whole. - - - _TO MAMERCUS_ - - Though you never have read us a line of your verse, - You insist on our thinking you write. - Yes, yes, be a poet; be anything else-- - If you’ll only forbear to recite. - -About the last of the great Latin Satirists is Juvenal, a contemporary -of Martial. - -His lines in translation, have a modern ring, but that may be merely -because the fundamental sources and themes of wit are universal. - - - JUVENAL - - _COSMETIC DISGUISE_ - - A woman stops at nothing when she wears - Rich emeralds round her neck, and in her ears - Pearls of enormous size; these justify - Her faults, and make all lawful in her eye. - Sure, of all ills with which mankind are cursed, - A wife who brings you money is the worst. - Behold! her face a spectacle appears, - Bloated, and foul, and plastered to the ears - With viscous paste. The husband looks askew, - And sticks his lips in this detested glue. - She meets the adulterer bathed, perfumed, and dressed, - But rots in filth at home, a very pest! - For him she breathes of nard; for him alone - She makes the sweets of Araby her own; - For him, at length, she ventures to uncase, - Scales the first layer of roughcast from her face, - And, while the maids to know her now begin, - Clears, with that precious milk, her muddy skin - For which, though exiled to the frozen main, - She’d lead a drove of asses in her train! - But tell me now: this thing, thus daubed and oiled, - Thus poulticed, plastered, baked by turns and boiled, - Thus with pomatums, ointments, lacquered o’er-- - Is it a face, pray tell me, or a sore? - --_Satires._ - - - _ON DOMINEERING WIVES_ - - Now tell me, if thou canst not love a wife, - Made thine by every tie, and thine for life, - Why wed at all? Why waste the wine and cakes - The queasy-stomached guest at parting takes, - And the rich present, which the bridal right - Claims for the favors of the happy night, - The charger, where, triumphantly inscrolled, - The Dacian Hero shines in current gold? - If thou canst love, and thy besotted mind - Is so uxoriously to _one_ inclined, - Then bow thy neck, and with submissive air - Receive the yoke thou must forever wear. - To a fond spouse a wife no mercy shows; - Though warmed with equal fires, she mocks his wos, - And triumphs in his spoils; her wayward will - Defeats his bliss, and turns his good to ill. - Naught must be given, if she opposes; naught, - If she opposes, must be sold or bought; - She tells him where to love, and where to hate; - Shuts out the ancient friend, whose beard his gate - Knew from its downy to its hoary state; - And when pimps, parasites, of all degrees, - Have power to will their fortunes as they please, - She dictates his, and impudently dares - To name his very rivals for his heirs. - “Go, crucify that slave!” “For what offense? - Who the accuser? Where the evidence? - For when the life of man is in debate, - No time can be too long, no care too great. - Hear all, weigh all with caution, I advise--” - “Thou sniveler! Is a slave a man?” she cries. - “He’s innocent!” “Be’t so; ’tis my command, - My will. Let that, sir, for a reason stand.” - Thus the virago triumphs, thus she reigns. - Anon she sickens of her first domains, - And seeks for new; husband on husband takes, - Till of her bridal veil one rent she makes. - Again she tires, again for change she burns, - And to the bed she lately left returns, - While the fresh garlands and unfaded boughs - Yet deck the portal of her wondering spouse. - “EIGHT HUSBANDS TO HERSELF SHE GAVE”-- - A rare inscription for her grave! - --_Satires._ - -Apuleius was the skilful teller of a long and fantastic tale called -Metamorphoses, commonly known as the Golden Ass. - -But a small extract may be given. - - - APULEIUS - - _METAMORPHOSES_ - -Fotis came running to me one day in great excitement and trepidation, -and informed me that her mistress, having hitherto made no proficiency -by other means in her present amour, intended to assume feathers like -a bird, and so take flight to the object of her love, and that I must -prepare myself with all due care for the sight of such a wonderful -proceeding. And now, about the first watch of the night, she escorted -me, on tiptoe and with noiseless steps, to that same upper chamber, and -bade me peep through a chink in the door, which I did accordingly. - -In the first place, Pamphile divested herself of all her garments, -and having unlocked a certain cabinet, took out of it several little -boxes. Taking the lid off one of them, and pouring some ointment -therefrom, she rubbed herself for a considerable time with her hands, -smearing herself all over from the tips of her toes to the crown of -her head. Then, after she had muttered a long while in a low voice -over a lamp, she shook her limbs with tremulous jerks, then gently -waved them to and fro, until soft feathers burst forth, strong wings -displayed themselves, the nose was hardened and curved into a beak, -the nails were compressed and made crooked. Thus did Pamphile become an -owl. Then, uttering a querulous scream, she made trial of her powers, -leaping little by little from the ground; and presently, raising -herself aloft, on full wing, she flew out-of-doors. And thus was she, -of her own will, changed, by her own magic arts. - -But I, though not enchanted by any magic spell, still, riveted to -the spot by astonishment at this performance, seemed to myself to be -anything else rather than Lucius. Thus deprived of my senses, and -astounded even to insanity, I was in a waking dream, and rubbed my eyes -for some time to ascertain whether or not I was awake at all. At last, -however, returning to consciousness of the reality of things, I took -hold of the right hand of Fotis, and putting it to my eyes, “Suffer -me,” said I, “I beg of you, to enjoy a great and singular proof of your -affection, while the opportunity offers, and give me a little ointment -from the same box. Grant this, my sweetest, I entreat you by these -breasts of yours, and thus, by conferring on me an obligation that can -never be repaid, bind me to you forever as your slave. Be you my Venus, -and let me stand by you a winged Cupid.” - -“And are you, then, sweetheart, for playing me a fox’s trick, and for -causing me, of my own accord, to let fall the ax upon my legs? Must -I run such risk of having my Lucius torn from me by the wolves of -Thessaly? Where am I to look for him when he is changed into a bird? -When shall I see him again?” - -“May the celestial powers,” said I, “avert from me such a crime! Though -borne aloft on the wings of the eagle itself, soaring through the -midst of the heavens, as the trusty messenger, or joyous arm-bearer, -of supreme Jove, would I not, after I had obtained this dignity of -wing, still fly back every now and then to my nest? I swear to you, -by that lovely little knot of hair with which you have enchanted my -spirit, that I would prefer no other to my Fotis. And then, besides, I -bethink me that as soon as I am rubbed with that ointment, and shall -have been changed into a bird of this kind, I shall be bound to keep -at a distance from all human habitations; for what a beautiful and -agreeable lover will the ladies gain in an owl! Why, do we not see that -these birds of night, when they have got into any house, are eagerly -seized and nailed to the doors, in order that they may atone, by -their torments, for the evil destiny which they portend to the family -by their inauspicious flight? But one thing I had almost forgot to -inquire: what must I say, or do, in order to get rid of my wings and -return to my own form as Lucius?” - -“Be in no anxiety,” she said, “about all that matter; for my mistress -has made me acquainted with everything that can again change such forms -into the human shape. But do not suppose that this was done through any -kind feeling toward me, but in order that I might assist her with the -requisite remedies when she returns home. Only think with what simple -and trifling herbs such a mighty result is brought about: for instance, -a little anise, with some leaves of laurel infused in spring water, and -used as a lotion and a draft.” - -Having assured me of this over and over again, she stole into her -mistress’s chamber with the greatest trepidation, and took a little -box out of the casket. Having first hugged and kissed it, and offered -up a prayer that it would favor me with a prosperous flight, I hastily -divested myself of all my garments, then greedily dipping my fingers -into the box, and taking thence a considerable quantity of the -ointment, I rubbed it all over my body and limbs. And now, flapping my -arms up and down, I anxiously awaited my change into a bird. But no -down, no shooting wings appeared. Instead, my hairs became thickened -into bristles, and my tender skin was hardened into a hide; my hands -and feet, too, no longer furnished with distinct fingers and toes, -formed into massive hoofs, and a long tail projected from the extremity -of my spine. My face was now enormous, my mouth wide, my nostrils -gaping, and my lips hanging down. In like manner my ears grew hairy -and of immoderate length, and I found in every respect I had become -enlarged. Thus, hopelessly surveying all parts of my body, I beheld -myself changed--not into a bird, but an ass. - -I wished to upbraid Fotis for the deed she had done; but, now deprived -both of the gesture and voice of man, I could only expostulate with her -silently with my under-lip hanging down, and looking sidewise at her -with tearful eyes. As for her, as soon as she beheld me thus changed -she beat her face with her hands, and cried aloud, “Wretch that I am, -I am undone! In my haste and flurry I mistook one box for the other, -deceived by their similarity. It is fortunate, however, that a remedy -for this transformation is easily to be obtained; for, by only chewing -roses, you will put off the form of an ass, and in an instant will -become my Lucius once again. I only wish that I had prepared as usual -some garlands of roses for us last evening; for then you would not have -had to suffer the delay even of a single night. But at the break of -dawn the remedy shall be provided for you.” - -Thus did she lament; and as for me, though I was a perfect ass, and -instead of Lucius, a beast of burden, I still retained human sense. -Long and deeply, in fact, did I consider with myself whether I ought -not to bite and kick that most wicked woman to death. However, better -thoughts recalled me from such rash designs, lest, by inflicting on -Fotis the punishment of death, I should at once put an end to all -chances of efficient assistance. So, bending my head low, and shaking -my ears, I silently swallowed my wrongs for a time, and submitting -to my most dreadful misfortune, I betook myself to the stable to the -good horse which had carried me so well, and there I found another -ass also, which belonged to my former host, Milo. Now it occurred to -me that, if there are in dumb animals any silent and natural ties of -sympathy, this horse of mine, being influenced by a certain feeling -of recognition and compassion, would afford me room for a lodging and -the rights of hospitality. But, oh, Jupiter Hospitalis, and all you -the guardian divinities of Faith! this very excellent nag of mine and -the ass put their heads together and immediately plotted schemes for -my destruction; and as soon as they beheld me approaching the manger, -laying back their ears and quite frantic with rage, they furiously -attacked me with their heels, fearing I had design upon their food. -Consequently, I was driven away into the farthest corner from that -very barley which the evening before I had placed, with my own hands, -before that most grateful servant of mine. - -Thus harshly treated and sent into banishment, I betook myself to a -corner of the stable. And while I reflected on the insolence of my -companions, and formed plans of vengeance against the perfidious steed, -for the next day, when I should have become Lucius once more by the -aid of the roses, I beheld against the central square pillar which -supported the beams of the stable, a statue of the goddess Hippona, -standing within a shrine, and nicely adorned with garlands of roses, -and those, too, recently gathered. Inspired with hope, the moment I -espied the salutary remedy I boldly mounted as far as ever my forelegs -could stretch; and then, with neck at full length, and extending my -lips as much as I possibly could, I endeavored to catch hold of the -garlands. But by a most unlucky chance, just as I was endeavoring to -accomplish this, my servant lad, who had the constant charge of my -horse, suddenly espied me, sprang to his feet in a great rage, and -exclaimed, “How long are we to put up with this vile hack, which but a -few moments ago was for making an attack upon the food of the cattle, -and is now doing the same even to the statues of the gods? But if I -don’t this very instant cause this sacrilegious beast to be both sore -and crippled”--and searching for something with which to strike me, he -stumbled upon a bundle of sticks that lay there, and, picking out a -knotted cudgel, the largest he could find among them all, he did not -cease to belabor my poor sides, until a loud thumping and banging at -the outer gates, and an uproar of the neighbors shouting “Thieves!” -struck him with terror, and he took to his heels. - - --_The Golden Ass._ - - - _VICISSITUDES OF A DONKEY_ - -When the keeper of the horses had taken me to the country, I found -there none of the pleasure or the liberty I expected; for his wife, -an avaricious, bad woman, immediately yoked me to the mill, and -frequently striking me with a green stick, prepared bread for herself -and her family at the expense of my hide. And not content to make me -drudge for her own food only, she also ground corn for her neighbors, -and so made money by my toil. Nor, after all my weary labors, did she -even afford me the food which had been ordered for me; for she sold my -barley to the neighboring husbandmen, after it had been bruised and -ground in that very mill by my own roundabout drudgery; but to me, -who had worked during the whole of the day at that laborious machine, -she only gave, toward evening, some dirty, unsifted, and very gritty -bran. I was brought low enough by these miseries; but cruel fortune -exposed me to fresh torments, in order, I suppose, that I might boast -of my brave deeds, both in peace and war, as the saying is. For that -excellent equerry, complying, rather late, indeed, with his master’s -orders, for a short time permitted me to associate with the herds of -horses. - -At length a free ass, I capered for joy, and softly ambling up to -the mares, chose out such as I thought would be the fittest for my -concubines. But here my joyful hopes gave place to extreme danger. For -the stallions, who were terribly strong creatures, more than a match -for any ass, regarding me with suspicion, furiously pursued me as -their rival, without respect for the laws of hospitable Jupiter. One -of them, with his head and neck and ample chest aloft, struck at me -like a pugilist with his forefeet; another, turning his brawny back, -let fly at me with his hind feet; and another, with a vicious neigh, -his ears thrown back, and showing his white teeth, sharp as spears, -bit me all over. It was like what I have read in history of the King -of Thrace, who exposed his unhappy guests to be lacerated and devoured -by wild horses; for so sparing was that powerful tyrant of his barley, -that he appeased the hunger of his voracious horses by casting human -bodies to them for food. In fact, I was so worried and distracted by -the continual attacks of the horses, that I wished myself back again at -the mill-round. - -Fortune, however, would not be satisfied with my torments, and soon -after visited me with another calamity; for I was employed to bring -home wood from a mountain, and a boy, the most villainous of all boys, -was appointed to drive me. It was not only that I was wearied by -toiling up and down the steep and lofty mountain, nor that I wore away -my hoofs by running on sharp stones, but I was cudgeled without end, so -that all my bones ached to the very marrow. Moreover, by continually -striking me on the off-haunch, and always in the same place, till -the skin was broken, he occasioned a great ulcerous cavity, gaping -like a trench or a window; yet he never ceased to hit me on the raw. -He likewise laid such a load of wood on my back that you might have -thought it was a burden prepared for an elephant, and not for a donkey. -And whenever the ill-balanced load inclined to one side, instead of -taking away some of the fagots from the heavier side, and thus easing -me by somewhat lightening, or at least equalizing the pressure, he -always remedied the inequality of the weight by the addition of stones. -Nor yet, after so many miseries which I had endured, was he content -with the immoderate weight of my burden; but when it happened that we -had to pass over a river, he would leap on my back in order to keep his -feet dry, as if his weight was but a trifling addition to the heavy -mass. And if by any accident I happened to fall, through the weight of -my burden and the slipperiness of the muddy bank, instead of giving -me a helping hand, as he ought to have done, and pulling me up by the -head-stall, or by my tail, or removing a part of my load, till at least -I had got up again, this paragon of ass-drivers gave me no help at all, -however weary I might be, but beginning from my head, or rather from my -ears, he thrashed all the hair off my hide with a huge stick. - -Another piece of cruelty he practised on me was this: he twisted -together a bundle of the sharpest and most venomous thorns, and tied -them to my tail as a pendulous torment; so that, jerking against me -when I walked, they pricked and stabbed me intolerably. Hence, I -was in a sore dilemma; for when I ran away from him, to escape his -unmerciful drubbings, I was hurt by the more vehement pricking of -the thorns; and if I stood still for a short time, in order to avoid -that pain, I was compelled by blows to go on. In fact, the rascally -boy seemed to think of nothing else than how he might be the death -of me by some means or other; and that he sometimes threatened with -oaths to accomplish. And, indeed, there happened a thing by which his -detestable malice was stimulated to more baneful efforts. On a certain -day, when his excessive insolence had overcome my patience, I lifted -up my powerful heels against him; and for this he retaliated by the -following atrocity: he brought me into the road heavily laden with a -bundle of coarse flax, securely bound together with cords, and placed -in the middle of the burden a burning coal, which he had stolen from -the neighboring village. Presently the fire spread through the slender -fibers, flames burst forth, and I was ablaze all over. There appeared -no refuge from immediate destruction, no hope of safety, and such a -conflagration did not admit of delay or afford time for deliberation. -Fortune, however, shone upon me in these cruel circumstances--perhaps -for the purpose of reserving me for future dangers, but, at all events, -liberating me from present and decreed death. By chance perceiving a -neighboring pool muddy with the rain of the preceding day, I threw -myself headlong into it; and the flame being immediately extinguished, -I came out, lightened of my burden and liberated from destruction. But -that audacious young rascal cast the blame of this most wicked deed of -his on me, and affirmed to all the shepherds that as I was passing near -the neighbors’ fires, I stumbled on purpose, and threw my load into the -blaze. And he added, laughing at me, “How long shall we waste food on -this fiery monster?” - - --_The Golden Ass._ - - - - - PART III - - MEDIÆVAL AGES - - -SHAKESPEARE’S line, - - “In the vast deep and middle of the night,” - -gives no stronger or more absolute effect of darkness and blankness -than the state of humorous literature during the vast deep and middle -of the Mediæval Ages. - -It is not possible to catalogue it with reference to time or place, for -the mass of it came from the mouths of Tale-tellers or Song-singers, -supplemented by the pencils or chisels of the caricaturists. - -In the East, Folk Tales were abundant and they were brought to Europe -as the wind scatters the seeds of vegetation. - -Fables, Fairy Tales, Mother Goose Jingles, Collections of Anecdotes, -all hark back to these jesting stories of the ancient Orientals. - -Probably the oldest and most important link in the tracing of -Indo-European Folk Lore is found in the Fables of Pilpay, or Bidpai. - -This is the Arabic translation of the Pahlavi translation of the -Sanscrit original of the Panchatantra. - -The scope of the work is advice for the conduct of princes, offered in -the guise of beast fables, and perhaps containing much of the material -commonly attributed to Æsop. - -Little or nothing is known of Pilpay, and his era has been variously -placed at different dates between 100 B.C. and 300 B.C. - -Others, indeed, declare that Pilpay was not an individual but the name -is that of a bidbah, the court scholar of an Indian prince. - -The fables, as may be seen from the following selections, inculcate -the moral teachings by means of stories about animals, to whom are -attributed the thoughts and impulses of men. - -Kalidasa, called the greatest poet and dramatist of India, is also -of uncertain origin and birth date. He probably lived early in the -Christian Era, and his writings, though not strictly humorous are -instinct with the spirit of satire. - - - KALIDASA - - _HUNTING WITH A KING_ - - MATHAVYA, _a Jester_ - -_Mathavya._ Heigh-ho, what an unfortunate fellow I am, worn to a -shadow by my royal friend’s sporting propensities! “Here’s a deer!” -“There goes a boar!” “Yonder’s a tiger!” This is the constant subject -of his remarks, while we tramp about in the heat of the day from jungle -to jungle on paths where the trees give us no shade. If we are thirsty, -we can get nothing to drink but some dirty water from a mountain stream -full of dry leaves, tasting vilely bitter. If we are hungry, we are -obliged to eat tough, flavorless game, and have to gulp it down at -odd times as best we can. Even at night I have no peace. Sleeping is -out of the question, with my bones all aching from trotting after my -sporting friend; or, if I do contrive to doze, I am awakened at early -dawn by the horrible din of a lot of rascally beaters and huntsmen, -who must needs begin their deafening operations before sunrise. But -these are not my only troubles; for here’s a fresh grievance, like -a new boil rising upon an old one: Yesterday, while some of us were -lagging behind, my royal friend went into a hermit’s enclosure after a -deer, and there--worse luck--he caught sight of a beautiful girl called -Sakuntala, the hermit’s daughter. From that moment not a single thought -did he have of returning to town; and all night long not a wink of -sleep did he get for his thoughts of the girl. But see--here he comes! -I will pretend to stand in the easiest attitude for resting my bruised -and crippled limbs. - - _Enter_ KING DUSHYANTA - -_Mathavya._ Ah, my friend, my hands cannot move to greet you with -the accustomed salutation! I can do no more than command my lips to -wish your Majesty success. - -_King._ Why, what has paralyzed your limbs? - -_Mathavya._ You might as well ask me how it is my eye waters after -you have poked your finger into it! - -_King._ I don’t understand what you mean. Explain yourself. - -_Mathavya._ My dear friend, is that straight reed you see yonder -bent crooked by its own act, or by the force of the current? - -_King._ The current of the river is the cause, I suppose. - -_Mathavya._ Yes, just as you are the cause of my crippled limbs. - -_King._ How so? - -_Mathavya._ Here you are, living the life of a savage in a -desolate, forlorn region, while the government of the country is taking -care of itself. And poor I am no longer master of my own legs, but have -to follow you about day after day in your hunting for wild beasts, till -all my bones ache and get out of joint. Please, my dear friend, do let -us have one day’s rest!--“_Sakuntala._” - - - UNKNOWN AUTHOR - - _THE CREATION OF WOMAN_ - -In the beginning, when Twashtri came to the creation of women, he found -that he had exhausted his materials in the making of man, and that no -solid elements were left. In this dilemma, after profound meditation, -he did as follows: - -He took the rotundity of the moon, and the curves of creepers and the -clinging of tendrils, and the trembling of grass, and the slenderness -of the reed, and the bloom of flowers, and the lightness of leaves, -and the tapering of the elephant’s trunk, and the glances of deer, -and the joyous gaiety of sunbeams, and the weeping of clouds, and -the fickleness of the winds, and the timidity of the hare, and the -vanity of the peacock, and the softness of the parrot’s bosom, and the -hardness of adamant, and the cruelty of the tiger, and the hot glow of -fire, and the coldness of snow, and the chattering of jays, and the -cooing of the dove, and the hypocrisy of the crane, and the fidelity of -the drake. Compounding all these together, he made woman, and gave her -to man. - -But after a week man came to him, and said: - -“Lord, this creature that you have given me makes my life miserable. -She chatters incessantly, and teases me beyond endurance, never leaving -me alone. She requires attention every moment, takes up all my time, -weeps about nothing, and is always idle. So I have come to give her -back again, as I cannot live with her.” - -Then Twashtri said, “Very well,” and took her back. - -After another week man came to him again, saying: - -“Lord, I find that my life is lonely since I surrendered that creature. -I remember how she used to dance and sing to me, and look at me out of -the corner of her eye, and play with me, and cling to me. Her laughter -was music; she was beautiful to look at, and soft to touch. Pray give -her back to me again.” - -And Twashtri said, “Very well,” and returned woman to man. - -But after only three days had passed, man appeared once more before the -Creator, to whom he said: - -“Lord, I know not how it is, but, after all, I have come to the -conclusion that she is more trouble than pleasure to me. Therefore I -beg that you take her back again.” - -Twashtri, however, replied: - -“Out upon you! Be off! I will have no more of this. You must manage how -you can.” - -Then quoth man: - -“But I cannot live with her!” - -To which Twashtri answered: - -“Neither could you live without her.” And he turned his back on man, -and went on with his work. - -Then said man: - -“Alas, what is to be done? For I cannot live either with or without -her!”--_The Churning of the Ocean of Time_ (_Sansara-sagara-manthanam_). - -The Talmud is far from a humorous work, but it embodies many bits of -wise wit, and is the original source of many present day proverbs. - -In its twelve folio volumes it contains the work of the ancient -Jews for nearly a thousand years, and among its fine parables and -interesting legends gleams of rare wit frequently occur. - - - _EXTRACTS FROM THE TALMUD_ - -The forest trees once asked the fruit trees: “Why is the rustling of -your leaves not heard in the distance?” The fruit trees replied: “We -can dispense with the rustling to manifest our presence, our fruits -testify for us.” The fruit trees then inquired of the forest trees: -“Why do your leaves rustle almost continually?” “We are forced to call -the attention of man to our existence.” - -Too many captains sink the ship. - -Birds of a feather flock together; and so with men--like to like. - -He laid his money on the horns of a deer. - -Keep partners with him whom the hour favors. - -Attend no auctions if thou hast no money. - -Poverty comes from God, but not dirt. - -Ignorance and conceit go hand in hand. - -Better eat onions all thy life than dine upon geese and chickens once -and then long in vain for more ever after. - -Go to sleep without supper, but rise without debt. - -Do not live near a pious fool. - -If thy friends agree in calling thee an ass, go and get a halter around -thee. - -Love your wife truly and faithfully, and do not compel her to hard work. - -When our conjugal love was strong, the width of the threshold offered -sufficient accommodation for both of us; but now that it has cooled -down, a couch sixty yards wide is too narrow. - -Man is generally led the way which he is inclined to go. - -If the thief has no opportunity, he thinks himself honorable. - -Were it not for the existence of passions, no one would build a house, -marry a wife, beget children, or do any work. - -What should man do in order to live? Deaden his passions. What should -man do in order to die? Give himself entirely to life. - -He who hardens his heart with pride softens his brain with the same. - -Do not reveal thy secret to the apes. - - Keep shut the doors of thy mouth - Even from the wife of thy bosom. - -Use thy best vase to-day, for to-morrow it may, perchance, be broken. - -The world is only saved by the breath of the school-children. - -“Repeat,” “repeat,” that is the best medicine for memory. - -A woman schemes while plying the spindle. - -Alas! for one thing that goes and never returns. What is it? Youth. - -Rab Safra had a jewel for which he asked the price of ten pieces of -gold. Several dealers saw the jewel and offered five gold pieces. -Rab Safra declined, and the merchants left him. After a second -consideration, he, however, resolved upon selling the jewel for five -pieces. The next day, just as Rab Safra was at prayers, the merchants -unexpectedly returned: “Sir,” said they to him, “we come to you again -to do business after all. Do you wish to part with the jewel for the -price we offered you?” But Rab Safra made no reply. “Well, well; be -not angered; we will add another two pieces.” Rab Safra still remained -silent. “Well, then, be it as you say; we will give you ten pieces, -the price you asked.” By this time Rab Safra had ended his prayer, -and said: “Sirs, I was at prayers, and could not hear you. As for the -jewel, I have already resolved upon selling it at the price you offered -me yesterday. If you then pay me five pieces of gold, I shall be -satisfied.” - -Chief of the Arabian collections of tales is, of course, The Arabian -Nights’ Entertainment, or The Thousand And One Nights. - -Many of these tales are of very ancient origin, others have been added -as the centuries went by. - -Though the stories show their Persian, Indian and Arabian origin, the -collection as it stands at present was compiled in Egypt not more than -five or six centuries ago. - -As is well known, the stories were told night after night, by -Scheherazade, to preserve her life so long as the king’s interest might -be held. Most of the tales show little or no humor, many are long and -wearisome, many more too broad to quote, but several are given that may -be considered as representative of Oriental wit. - - - _THE SIMPLETON AND THE SHARPER_ - -A certain simple fellow was once going along, haling his ass after -him by the halter, when a couple of sharpers saw him and one said to -his fellow, “I will take that ass from yonder man.” “How wilt thou do -that?” asked the other. “Follow me and I will show thee,” replied the -first. So he went up to the ass and loosing it from the halter, gave -the beast to his fellow; then clapped the halter on his own head and -followed the simpleton, till he knew that the other had got clean off -with the ass when he stood still. The man pulled at the halter, but the -thief stirred not; so he turned and seeing the halter on a man’s neck, -said to him, “Who art thou?” Quoth the sharper, “I am thine ass and my -story is a strange one. Know that I have a pious old mother and came -in to her one day, drunk; and she said to me, “O my son, repent to God -the Most High of these thy transgressions.” But I took the cudgel and -beat her, whereupon she cursed me and God the Most High changed me into -an ass and caused me fall into thy hands, where I have remained till -now. However, today, my mother called me to mind and her heart relented -towards me; so she prayed for me, and God restored me to my former -shape of a man.” “There is no power and no virtue but in God the Most -High, the Supreme!” cried the simpleton. “O my brother, I conjure thee -by Allah acquit me of what I have done with thee in the way of riding -and so forth.” - -Then he let the sharper go and returned home, drunken with chagrin and -concern. His wife asked him, “What ails thee and where is the ass?” -And he answered, “Thou knowest not what was this ass; but I will tell -thee.” So he told her the story, and she exclaimed, “Woe worth us -for God the Most High! How could we have used a man as a beast of -burden, all this while?” And she gave alms and asked pardon of God. -Then the man abode awhile at home, idle, till she said to him, “How -long wilt thou sit at home, idle? Go to the market and buy us an ass -and do thy business with it.” Accordingly, he went to the market and -stopping by the ass-stand, saw his own ass for sale. So he went up to -it and clapping his mouth to its ear, said to it, “Out on thee, thou -good-for-nought! Doubtless thou hast been getting drunk again and -beating thy mother! But, by Allah, I will never buy thee more!” And he -left it and went away. - - - _THE THIEF TURNED MERCHANT AND THE OTHER THIEF_ - -There was once a thief who repented to God the Most High and making -good his repentance, opened himself a shop for the sale of stuffs, -where he continued to trade awhile. One day, he locked his shop and -went home; and in the night there came to the bazaar a cunning thief -disguised in the habit of the merchant, and pulling out keys from his -sleeve, said to the watchman of the market, “Light me this candle.” -So the watchman took the candle and went to get a light, whilst the -thief opened the shop and lit another candle he had with him. When -the watchman came back, he found him seated in the shop, looking over -the account books and reckoning with his fingers; nor did he leave -to do thus till point of day, when he said to the man, “Fetch me a -camel-driver and his camel, to carry some goods for me.” So the man -fetched him a camel, and the thief took four bales of stuffs and gave -them to the camel-driver, who loaded them on his beast. Then he gave -the watchman two dirhems and went away after the camel-driver, the -watchman the while believing him to be the owner of the shop. - -Next morning, the merchant came and the watchman greeted him with -blessings, because of the two dirhems, much to the surprise of the -former, who knew not what he meant. When he opened his shop, he saw -the droppings of the wax and the account-book lying on the floor, and -looking round, found four bales of stuffs missing. So he asked the -watchman what had happened and he told him what had passed in the -night, whereupon the merchant bade him fetch the camel-driver and -said to the latter, “Whither didst thou carry the stuffs?” “To such -a wharf,” answered the driver; “and I stowed them on board such a -vessel.” “Come with me thither,” said the merchant. So the camel-driver -carried him to the wharf and showed him the barque and her owner. Quoth -the merchant to the latter, “Whither didst thou carry the merchant and -the stuff?” “To such a place,” answered the master, “where he fetched -a camel-driver and setting the bales on the camel, went I know not -whither.” “Fetch me the camel-driver,” said the merchant; so he fetched -him and the merchant said to him, “Whither didst thou carry the bales -of stuffs from the ship?” “To such a khan,” answered he. “Come thither -with me and show it to me,” said the merchant. - -So the camel-driver went with him to a khan at a distance from the -shore, where he had set down the stuffs, and showed him the mock -merchant’s magazine, which he opened and found therein his four bales -untouched and unopened. The thief had laid his mantle over them; so -the merchant took the bales and the cloak and delivered them to the -camel-driver, who laid them on his camel; after which the merchant -locked the magazine and went away with the camel-driver. On the way, he -met the thief who followed him, till he had shipped the bales, when he -said to him “O my brother (God have thee in His keeping!), thou hast -recovered thy goods, and nought of them is lost; so give me back my -cloak.” The merchant laughed and giving him back his cloak, let him go -unhindered. - - - _THE IGNORANT MAN WHO SET UP FOR A SCHOOLMASTER_ - -There was once, among the hangers-on of the collegiate mosque, a man -who knew not how to read and write and got his bread by gulling the -folk. One day, he bethought him to open a school and teach children; -so he got him tablets and written scrolls and hung them up in a -conspicuous place. Then he enlarged his turban and sat down at the door -of the school. The people, who passed by and saw his turban and the -tablets and scrolls, thought he must be a very learned doctor; so they -brought him their children; and he would say to this, “Write,” and to -that, “Read”; and thus they taught one another. - -One day, as he sat, as of wont, at the door of the school, he saw a -woman coming up, with a letter in her hand, and said to himself, “This -woman doubtless seeks me, that I may read her the letter she has in her -hand. How shall I do with her seeing I cannot read writing?” And he -would fain have gone down and fled from her; but, before he could do -this, she overtook him and said to him, “Whither away?” Quoth he, “I -purpose to pray the noontide-prayer and return.” “Noon is yet distant,” -said she; “so read me this letter.” He took the letter and turning -it upside down, fell to looking at it, now shaking his head and anon -knitting his eyebrows and showing concern. Now the letter came from -the woman’s husband, who was absent; and when she saw the schoolmaster -do thus, she said, “Doubtless my husband is dead, and this learned man -is ashamed to tell me so.” So she said to him, “O my lord, if he be -dead, tell me.” But he shook his head and held his peace. Then said -she, “Shall I tear my clothes?” “Tear,” answered he. “Shall I buffet my -face,” asked she; and he said, “Buffet.” So she took the letter from -his hand and returning home, fell a-weeping, she and her children. - -One of her neighbours heard her weeping and asking what ailed her, was -answered, “She hath gotten a letter, telling her that her husband is -dead.” Quoth the man, “This is a lying saying; for I had a letter from -him but yesterday, advising me that he is in good health and case and -will be with her after ten days.” So he rose forthright and going in -to her, said, “Where is the letter thou hast received?” She brought -it to him, and he took it and read it; and it ran as follows, after -the usual salutation, “I am well and in good health and case and will -be with thee after ten days. Meanwhile, I send thee a quilt and an -extinguisher.”[1] So she took the letter and returning with it to the -schoolmaster, said to him, “What moved thee to deal thus with me?” And -she repeated to him what her neighbour had told her of his having sent -her a quilt and an extinguisher. “Thou art in the right,” answered -he. “But excuse me, good woman; for I was, at the time, troubled and -absent-minded and seeing the extinguisher wrapped in the quilt, thought -that he was dead and they had shrouded him.” The woman, not smoking the -cheat, said, “Thou art excused,” and taking the letter, went away. - - - _THE HUSBAND AND THE PARROT_ - -There lived once a good man who had a beautiful wife, of whom he was -so passionately fond that he could scarcely bear to have her out of -his sight. One day, when some particular business obliged him to leave -her, he went to a place where they sold all sorts of birds. Here he -purchased a parrot, which was not only highly accomplished in the art -of talking, but also possessed the rare gift of telling everything that -was done in its presence. The husband took it home in a cage to his -wife, and begged of her to keep it in her chamber, and take great care -of it during his absence. After this he set out on his journey. - -On his return he did not fail to interrogate the parrot on what had -passed while he was away; and the bird very expertly related a few -circumstances which occasioned the husband to reprimand his wife. -She supposed that some of her slaves had betrayed her, but they all -assured her they were faithful, and agreed in charging the parrot with -the crime. Desirous of being convinced of the truth of this matter, -the wife devised a method of quieting the suspicions of her husband, -and at the same time of revenging herself on the parrot, if he were -the culprit. The next time the husband was absent she ordered one -of her slaves during the night to turn a handmill under the bird’s -cage, another to throw water over it like rain, and a third to wave a -looking-glass before the parrot by the light of a candle. The slaves -were employed the greater part of the night in doing what their -mistress had ordered them, and succeeded to her satisfaction. - -The following day, when the husband returned, he again applied to the -parrot to be informed of what had taken place. The bird replied, “My -dear master, the lightning, the thunder, and the rain have so disturbed -me the whole night, that, I cannot tell you how much I have suffered.” - -The husband, who knew there had been no storm that night, became -convinced that the parrot did not always relate facts, and that having -told an untruth in this particular, he had also deceived him with -respect to his wife. Being therefore extremely enraged with it, he took -the bird out of the cage and, dashing it on the floor, killed it. He, -however, afterward learned from his neighbors that the poor parrot had -told no falsehood in reference to his wife’s conduct, which made him -repent of having destroyed it. - - - _BAKBARAH’S VISIT TO THE HAREM_ - -Bakbarah the Toothless, my second brother, walking one day through the -city, met an old woman in a retired street. She thus accosted him: “I -have,” said she, “a word to say to you, if you will stay a moment.” He -immediately stopped, and asked her what she wished. “If you have time -to go with me,” she replied, “I will take you to a most magnificent -palace, where you shall see a lady more beautiful than the day. She -will receive you with a great deal of pleasure, and will treat you with -a collation and excellent wine. I have no occasion, I believe, to say -any more.” “But is what you tell me,” replied my brother, “true?” “I -am not given to lying,” replied the old woman; “I propose nothing to -you but what is the fact. You must, however, pay attention to what I -require of you. You must be prudent, speak little, and must comply with -everything.” - -Bakbarah having agreed to the conditions, she walked on before, and he -followed her. They arrived at the gate of a large palace, where there -were a great number of officers and servants. Some of them wished to -stop my brother, but the old woman no sooner spoke to them, than they -let him pass. She then turned to my brother, and said, “Remember that -the young lady to whose house I have brought you is fond of mildness -and modesty; nor does she like being contradicted. If you satisfy her -in this, there is no doubt you will obtain whatever you wish.” Bakbarah -thanked her for this advice, and promised to profit by it. - -She then took him into a very beautiful apartment, which formed part of -a square building. It corresponded with the magnificence of the palace; -there was a gallery all round it, and in the midst of it a very fine -garden. The old woman made him sit down on a sofa that was handsomely -furnished, and desired him to wait there a moment, till she went to -inform the young lady of his arrival. - -As my brother had never before been in so superb a place, he -immediately began to observe all the beautiful things that were in -sight; and judging of his good fortune by the magnificence he beheld, -he could hardly contain his joy. He almost immediately heard a great -noise, which came from a long troop of slaves who were enjoying -themselves, and came toward him, bursting out at the same time into -violent fits of laughter. In the midst of them he perceived a young -lady of most extraordinary beauty, whom he easily discovered to be -their mistress, by the attention they paid her. Bakbarah, who expected -merely a private conversation with the lady, was very much surprised at -the arrival of so large a company. In the meantime the slaves, putting -on a serious air, approached him; and when the young lady was near the -sofa, my brother, who had risen up, made a most profound reverence. -She took the seat of honor, and then, having requested him to resume -his, she said to him, in a smiling manner, “I am delighted to see you, -and wish you everything you can yourself desire.” “Madam,” replied -Bakbarah, “I cannot wish a greater honor than that of appearing before -you.” “You seem to me,” she replied, “of so good-humored a disposition, -that we shall pass our time very agreeably together.” - -She immediately ordered a collation to be served up, and they covered -the table with baskets of various fruits and sweetmeats. She then sat -down at the table along with my brother and the slaves. As it happened -that he was placed directly opposite to her, she observed, as soon -as he opened his mouth to eat, he had no teeth; she remarked this to -her slaves, and they all laughed immoderately at it. Bakbarah, who -from time to time raised his head to look at the lady and saw that -she was laughing, imagined it was from the pleasure she felt at being -in his company, and flattered himself, therefore, that she would soon -order the slaves to retire, and that he should enjoy her conversation -in private. The lady easily guessed his thoughts, and took a pleasure -in continuing a delusion which seemed so agreeable to him: she said a -thousand soft, tender things, and presented the best of everything to -him with her own hand. - -When the collation was finished, she arose from table; ten slaves -instantly took some musical instruments and began to play and sing, -the others to dance. In order to make himself the more agreeable, my -brother also began dancing, and the young lady herself partook of the -amusement. After they had danced for some time, they all sat down to -take breath. The lady ordered him to bring her a glass of wine, then -cast a smile at my brother, to intimate that she was going to drink to -his health. He instantly rose up, and stood while she drank. As soon -as she had finished, instead of returning the glass, she had it filled -again, and presented it to my brother, that he might pledge her. - -Bakbarah took the glass, and in receiving it from the young lady he -kissed her hand, then drank to her, standing the whole time, to show -his gratitude for the favor she had done him. After this the young -lady made him sit down by her side, and began to give him signs of -affection. She put her arm round his neck, and frequently gave him -gentle pats with her hand. Delighted with these favors, he thought -himself the happiest man in the world; he also was tempted to begin -to play in the same manner with this charming creature, but he durst -not take this liberty before the slaves, who had their eyes upon him, -and who continued to laugh at this trifling. The young lady still kept -giving him such gentle taps, till at last she began to apply them so -forcibly that he grew angry at it. He reddened, and got up to sit -farther from so rude a playfellow. At this moment the old woman, who -had brought my brother there, looked at him in such a way as to make -him understand that he was wrong, and had forgotten the advice she had -before given him. He acknowledged his fault, and, to repair it, he -again approached the young lady, pretending that he had not gone to a -distance through anger. She then took hold of him by the arm, and drew -him toward her, making him again sit down close by her, and continuing -to bestow a thousand pretended caresses on him. Her slaves, whose only -aim was to divert her, began to take a part in the sport. One of them -gave poor Bakbarah a fillip on the nose with all her strength, another -pulled his ears almost off, while the rest kept giving him slaps, which -passed the limits of raillery and fun. - -My brother bore all this with the most exemplary patience; he even -affected an air of gaiety, and looked at the old woman with a forced -smile. “You were right,” said he, “when you said that I should find a -very fine, agreeable, and charming young lady. How much am I obliged -to you for it!” “Oh, this is nothing yet,” replied the old woman; -“let her alone, and you will see very different things by and by.” -The young lady then spoke. “You are a fine man,” said she to my -brother, “and I am delighted at finding in you so much kindness and -complaisance toward all my little fooleries, and that you possess -a disposition so conformable to mine.” “Madam,” replied Bakbarah, -ravished with this speech, “I am no longer myself, but am entirely at -your disposal; you have full power to do with me as you please.” “You -afford me the greatest delight,” added the lady, “by showing so much -submission to my inclination. I am perfectly satisfied with you, and I -wish that you should be equally so with me. Bring,” cried she to the -attendants, “perfumes and rose-water!” At these words two slaves went -out and instantly returned, one with a silver vase, in which there was -exquisite aloe-wood, with which she perfumed him, and the other with -rose-water, which she sprinkled over his face and hands. My brother -could not contain himself for joy at seeing himself so handsomely and -honorably treated. - -When this ceremony was finished, the young lady commanded the slaves -who had before sung and played to recommence their concert. They -obeyed; and while this was going on, the lady called another slave, -and ordered her to take my brother with her saying, “You know what to -do; and when you have finished, return with him to me.” Bakbarah, who -heard this order given, immediately got up, and going toward the old -woman, who had also risen to accompany the slave, he requested her to -tell him what they wished him to do. “Our mistress,” replied she, in -a whisper, “is extremely curious, and she wishes to see how you would -look disguised as a female; this slave, therefore, has orders to take -you with her, to paint your eyebrows, shave your mustachios, and dress -you like a woman.” “You may paint my eyebrows,” said my brother, “as -much as you please; to that I readily agree, because I can wash them -again; but as to shaving me, that, mind you, I will by no means suffer. -How do you think I dare appear without my mustachios?” “Take care,” -answered the woman, “how you oppose anything that is required of you. -You will quite spoil your fortune, which is going on as prosperously as -possible. She loves you, and wishes to make you happy. Will you, for -the sake of a paltry mustachio, forego the most delicious favors any -man can possibly enjoy?” - -Bakbarah at length yielded to the old woman’s arguments, and without -saying another word, he suffered the slave to conduct him to an -apartment, where they painted his eyebrows red. They shaved his -mustachios, and were absolutely going to shave his beard. But the -easiness of my brother’s tempter did not carry him quite so far as to -suffer that. “Not a single stroke,” he exclaimed, “shall you take at -my beard!” The slave represented to him that it was of no use to have -cut off his mustachios if he would not also agree to lose his beard; -that a hairy countenance did not at all coincide with the dress of a -woman; and that she was astonished that a man, who was on the very -point of possessing the most beautiful woman in Bagdad, should care for -his beard. The old woman also joined with the slave, and added fresh -reasons; she threatened my brother with being quite in disgrace with -her mistress. In short, she said so much that he at last permitted them -to do what they wished. - -As soon as they had dressed him like a woman, they brought him back -to the young lady, who burst into so violent a fit of laughter at the -sight of him, that she fell down on the sofa on which she was sitting. -The slaves all began to clap their hands, so that my brother was put -quite out of countenance. The young lady then got up, and continuing -to laugh all the time, said, “After the complaisance you have shown to -me, I should be guilty of a crime not to bestow my whole heart upon -you; but it is necessary that you should do one thing more for love -of me: it is only to dance before me as you are.” He obeyed; and the -young lady and the slaves danced with him, laughing all the while as if -they were crazy. After they had danced for some time, they all threw -themselves upon the poor wretch, and gave him so many blows, both with -their hands and feet, that he fell down almost fainting. The old woman -came to his assistance, and without giving him time to be angry at such -ill treatment, she whispered in his ear, “Console yourself, for you -are now arrived at the conclusion of your sufferings, and are about -to receive the reward for them. You have only one thing more to do,” -added she, “and that is a mere trifle. You must know that my mistress -makes it her custom, whenever she has drunk a little, as she has done -to-day, not to suffer anyone she loves to come near her, unless they -are stripped to their shirt. When they are in this situation, she takes -advantage of a short distance, and begins running before them through -the gallery, and from room to room, till they have caught her. This is -one of her fancies. Now, at whatever distance from you she may start, -you, who are so light and active, can easily overtake her. Undress -yourself quickly, therefore, and remain in your shirt, and do not make -any difficulty about it.” - -My brother had already carried his complying humor too far to stop -at this. The young lady at the same time took off her outer robe, in -order to run with greater ease. When they were both ready to begin the -race, the lady took the advantage of about twenty paces, and then -started with wonderful celerity. My brother followed her with all -his strength, but not without exciting the risibility of the slaves, -who kept clapping their hands all the time. The young lady, instead -of losing any of the advantage she had first taken, kept continually -gaining ground of my brother. She ran round the gallery two or three -times, then turned off down a long dark passage, where she saved -herself by a turn of which my brother was ignorant. Bakbarah, who kept -constantly following her, lost sight of her in this passage, and he was -also obliged to run much slower, because it was so dark. He at last -perceived a light, toward which he made all possible haste; he went out -through a door which was instantly shut upon him. - -You may easily imagine what was his astonishment at finding himself -in the middle of a street inhabited by curriers. Nor were they less -surprised at seeing him in his shirt, his eyebrows painted red, and -without either beard or mustachios. They began to clap their hands, to -hoot at him; and some even ran after him, and kept lashing him with -strips of their leather. They then stopped him, and set him on an ass, -which they accidentally met with, and led him through the city, exposed -to the laughter and shouts of the mob. - -To complete his misfortune, they led him through the street where the -judge of the police court lived, and this magistrate immediately sent -to inquire the cause of the uproar. The curriers informed him that they -saw my brother, exactly in the state he then was, come out of the gate -leading to the apartments of the women belonging to the grand vizier, -which opened into their street. The judge then ordered the unfortunate -Bakbarah, upon the spot, to receive a hundred strokes on the soles of -his feet, to be conducted without the city, and forbade him ever to -enter it again.--_History of the Barber’s Second Brother._ - - * * * * * - -Persian Wit and humor is best known to us through the _Rubaiyat of -Omar Khayyam_. - -While their interest lies partly in the adept translation, the wit of -the original is clearly self evident. - - - XXVII - - Myself when young did eagerly frequent - Doctor and Saint, and heard great argument - About it and about: but evermore - Came out by the same door where in I went. - - - XXVIII - - With them the seed of Wisdom did I sow, - And with mine own hand wrought to make it grow; - And this was all the Harvest that I reap’d-- - “I came like Water, and like Wind I go.” - - - XXIX - - Into this Universe, and _Why_ not knowing - Nor _Whence_, like Water willy-nilly flowing; - And out of it, as Wind along the Waste, - I know not _Whither_, willy-nilly blowing. - - - XXX - - What, without asking, hither hurried _Whence_? - And, without asking, _Whither_ hurried hence! - Oh, many a Cup of this forbidden Wine - Must drown the memory of that insolence! - - - XXXI - - Up from Earth’s Centre through the Seventh Gate - I rose, and on the Throne of Saturn sate, - And many a Knot unravel’d by the Road; - But not the Master-knot of Human Fate. - - - XXXII - - There was the Door to which I found no Key; - There was the Veil through which I might not see: - Some little talk awhile of ME and THEE - There was--and then no more of THEE and ME. - - - LIV - - Waste not your Hour, nor in the vain pursuit - Of This and That endeavour and dispute; - Better be jocund with the fruitful Grape - Than sadden after none, or bitter, Fruit. - - - LV - - You know, my Friends, with what a brave Carouse - I made a Second Marriage in my house; - Divorced old barren Reason from my Bed, - And took the Daughter of the Vine to Spouse. - - - LIX - - The Grape that can with Logic absolute - The Two-and-Seventy jarring Sects confute: - The sovereign Alchemist that in a trice - Life’s leaden metal into Gold transmute: - - - LXI - - Why, be this Juice the growth of God, who dare - Blaspheme the twisted tendril as a Snare? - A Blessing, we should use it, should we not? - And if a Curse--why, then, Who set it there? - - - LXVIII - - We are no other than a moving row - Of Magic Shadow-shapes that come and go - Round with the Sun-illumin’d Lantern held - In Midnight by the Master of the Show; - - - LXIX - - But helpless Pieces of the Game He plays - Upon this Chequer-board of Nights and Days: - Hither and thither moves, and checks, and slays, - And one by one back in the Closet lays. - - - LXX - - The Ball no question makes of Ayes and Noes, - But Here or There as strikes the Player goes; - And He that toss’d you down into the Field, - _He_ knows about it all--HE knows--HE knows! - - - LXXII - - And that inverted Bowl they call the Sky, - Whereunder crawling coop’d we live and die, - Lift not your hands to _It_ for help--for it - As impotently moves as you or I. - - - XCIII - - Indeed the Idols I have loved so long - Have done my credit in this World much wrong: - Have drown’d my Glory in a shallow Cup, - And sold my Reputation for a Song. - - - XCIV - - Indeed, indeed, Repentance oft before - I swore--but was I sober when I swore? - And then and then came Spring, and Rose-in-hand - My thread-bare Penitence apieces tore. - - - XCV - - And much as Wine has play’d the Infidel, - And robb’d me of my Robe of Honour--Well, - I wonder often what the Vintners buy - One half so precious as the stuff they sell. - -Firdausi, the greatest Epic poet of Persia, gives us this witty epigram. - - - _ON SULTAN MAHMOUD_ - - ’Tis said our monarch’s liberal mind - Is like the ocean, unconfined. - Happy are they who prove it so; - ’Tis not for me that fact to know: - I’ve plunged within its waves, ’tis true, - But not a single pearl could view. - -Sadi, one of the greatest of Persian poets, was also a great scholar, -and wrote in both Persian and Arabian, beside being, it is said, the -first poet to write in Hindustani. - -His works are numerous and beautiful, both in verse and prose, and show -a graceful wit. - - - _DISCOMFORT BETTER THAN DROWNING_ - -A king was embarked along with a Persian boy slave on board a ship. The -boy had never been at sea nor experienced the inconvenience of a ship. -He set up a weeping and wailing, and all his limbs were in a state -of trepidation; and however much they soothed him, he was not to be -pacified. The king’s pleasure-party was disconcerted by him; but there -was no help for it. On board that ship there was a physician. He said -to the king, “If you will order it, I can manage to silence him.” The -king replied, “It will be an act of great favor.” - -The physician so directed that they threw the boy into the sea, and -after he had plunged repeatedly, they seized him by the hair of the -head and drew him close to the ship, when he clung with both hands to -the rudder, and, scrambling upon the deck, slunk into a corner and sat -down quiet. The king, pleased with what he saw, said, “What art is -there in this?” The boy replied that originally he had not experienced -the danger of being drowned, and undervalued the safety of being in a -ship. In like manner, a person is aware of the preciousness of health -when he is overtaken with the calamity of sickness. - -_A barley loaf of bread has, oh, epicure, no relish for thee._ - -_To the houris, or nymphs of paradise, purgatory would be a hell. Ask -the inmates of hell whether purgatory is not paradise._ - -_There is a distinction between the man that folds his mistress -in his arms and him whose two eyes are fixed on the door expecting -her._--_The Rose Garden (Gulistan)._ - - - _THE STRICT SCHOOLMASTER AND THE MILD_ - -In the west of Africa I saw a schoolmaster of a sour aspect and bitter -speech, crabbed, misanthropic, and intemperate, insomuch that the sight -of him would derange the ecstasies of the orthodox, and his manner of -reading the Koran cast a gloom over the minds of the pious. A number -of handsome boys and lovely virgins were subject to his despotic sway; -they had neither the permission of a smile nor the option of a word, -for this moment he would smite the silver cheek of one of them with his -hand, and the next put the crystalline legs of another in the stocks. -In short, their parents, I heard, were made aware of a part of his -angry violence, and beat and drove him from his charge. - -They made over his school to a peaceable creature, so pious, meek, -simple, and good-natured that he never spoke till forced to do so, nor -would he utter a word that could offend anybody. The children forgot -that awe in which they had held their first master, and remarking the -angelic disposition of their second master, they became one after -another as wicked as devils. Relying on his clemency, they would so -neglect their studies as to pass most part of their time at play, and -break the tablets of their unfinished tasks over each other’s heads. - -_When the schoolmaster relaxes in his discipline, the children will -stop to play at marbles in the market-place._ - -A fortnight after I passed by the gate of that mosque, and saw the -first schoolmaster, with whom they had been obliged to make friends and -to restore him to his place. I was in truth offended, and calling on -God to witness, asked, saying, “Why have they again made a devil the -preceptor of angels?” - -A facetious old gentleman, who had seen much of life, listened to me, -and replied, “A king sent his son to school, and hung a tablet of -silver round his neck. On the face of that tablet he had written in -golden letters, ‘The severity of the master is more useful than the -indulgence of the father.’”--_The Rose Garden (Gulistan)._ - - - _HATEFULNESS OF OLD HUSBANDS_ - -An old man married a young virgin. He adorned the bridal chamber with -flowers, seated himself with her in private, and riveted his heart and -eyes upon her. Many a long night he would lie awake and indulge in -pleasantries and jests, in order to remove any coyness on her part, and -encourage familiarity. One of those nights he addressed her thus: - -“Lofty fortune was your friend, and the eye of your prosperity broad -awake, when you fell into the society of such an old gentleman as I -am, being of mature judgment, well-bred, worldly experienced, inured -to the vicissitudes of heat and cold, and practised in the goods and -evils of life, who can appreciate the rights of good-fellowship, -and fulfil the duties of loving attachment and is kind and affable, -sweet-spoken, and cheerful. I will treat you with affection, as far -as I can, and if you deal with me unkindly, I will not be unkind in -return. _If, like a parrot, thy food be sugar, I will devote my sweet -life for thy nourishment._ And you did not become the victim of a -rude, conceited, rash, and headstrong youth, who one moment gratifies -his lust, and the next has a fresh object; who every night shifts his -abode, and every day changes his mistress. Young men are lively and -handsome, but they keep good faith with nobody. _Expect not constancy -from nightingales, who will every moment serenade a fresh rose._ -Whereas my class of seniors regulate their lives by good breeding and -sense, and are not deluded by youthful ignorance.” - -_Court the society of a superior, and make much of the opportunity! -for in the company of an equal thy good fortune must decline._ - -The old man spoke a great deal in this style, and thought that he had -caught her heart in his snare, and made sure of her as his prey, when -she suddenly drew a cold sigh from the bottom of a much-afflicted -bosom, and answered: - -“All this speech which you have delivered has not, in the scale of my -judgment, the weight of that one sentence which I have heard of my -nurse, that it were better to plant a spear in a young maiden’s side -than to lay her by an old man in bed. Much contention and strife will -arise in that house where the wife shall get dissatisfied with her -husband.” - -_Unable to rise without the help of a staff, how can an old man stir -the staff of life?_ - -In short, there being no prospect of concord, they agreed to separate. -After lapse of the period prescribed by the law, she united in wedlock -with a young man of an ill-tempered and sullen disposition, and in very -narrow circumstances, so that she endured much tyranny and violence, -penury and hardship. Yet she was thus offering up thanksgivings for the -Almighty’s goodness, and saying: - -“Praised be God that I have escaped from such hell-torment, and secured -a blessing so permanent. With all this violence and impetuosity of -temper, I bear with his caprice, because he is handsome. It were better -for me to burn with him in hellfire than to dwell in paradise with the -other.” - -_The smell of an onion from the mouth of the lovely is sweeter than -that of a rose in the hand of the ugly._ - - --_The Rose Garden (Gulistan)._ - - * * * * * - -1. LOCMAN the wise being asked, “Whence did you learn wisdom?” -answered, _From the blind, who try the path with a stick before they -tread on it_.... - -4. HORMUS the tyrant, being asked, why he had put his father’s -courtiers in prison, answered, _Because they feared me; and the -wise say, Fear him who fears thee, though he be a fly, and thou an -elephant_. - -5. A religious was famous at Bagdad for his powerful prayers. Hoschas -Joseph, king of Persia, begged him to pray for him. The religious said, -_O God, take away this man’s life! for no better prayer can I make -either for him or his subjects_. - -6. An infamous king asked a Dervise, “Of all pious offices, which is -the chief?” The Dervise answered, _For thee, the chief is a long -sleep at noon, that thou mayest, for a short time, cease to injure -mankind_. - -7. A courtier being deprived of his place, became a religious. After -some time, the king wished to restore him to his station; but he said, -_Experience has now taught me to prefer ease to dignity_. - -7. A slave of Omer, the viceroy, fled from his service, but was -retaken, and brought before the king; who, at Omer’s instigation, -condemned him to death. The slave upon this said, _O king, I am an -innocent man; and, if I die by thy command, my blood will be required. -Permit me then to incur guilt before I meet my sentence. Let me kill -this Omer, my master, and I shall die contented. It is for thy sake -only I desire this_. The king, laughing at this new mode of clearing -his own justice, acquitted the wretch. - -9. A master had taught a youth to wrestle; who, proud of his acquired -skill, and possest of more strength than his master, wished to acquire -fame at his expence, and challenged him to wrestle before the court. -The master, by one trick, which he had not taught the youth, threw him -at once: and, the youth complaining that he had not taught him all his -art, the master said, _No. I always provide against ingratitude_. - -10. A religious sitting by the highway, the king passed by; but the -religious took no notice of him. A courtier saying “Do not you see -the king?” was answered, _I want nothing of him. Kings are made for -subjects, not subjects for kings. Why then should I respect him who -is the publick servant?_ This anecdote from Sadi differs much from -present Eastern despotism. - -11. A courtier went to his master, SUELNUN, king of Egypt, -and begged permission to retire; saying, “Though I am night and day -anxious in thy service; yet the fear of once displeasing thee makes me -wretched.” Suelnun, in tears, exclaimed, _Ah, did I serve God, as -thou thy king, I should be one of the just_. - -12. A king condemned an innocent man to death, who said, _O king, thy -anger rages against me, but will injure thyself_. “How?” rejoined -the king. _Because my pain lasts but for a moment; but thine for -ever._ Pardon followed. - -13. The courtiers of king Nourshivan consulting with him on important -business, when the king had spoken, one of them assented to his -opinion, against the rest. Being asked the cause, he said, _Human -affairs depend on chance, not on wisdom: and, if we err with the king, -who shall condemn us?_ ... - -17. A king saying to a Dervise, “Do you never think on me?” was -answered, _Yes: but it is when I forget God_. - -18. A Dervise, in a dream, saw a king in paradise, but a religious in -hell, and thought that, upon enquiring the cause, he was told, _The -king used to keep company with Dervises; and the Dervise with kings_. - -19. LOCMAN, the sage, being asked, where he learned virtue, he -answered, _Of the vicious, for they taught me what to shun_. - -20. Abu Hurura used often to visit MUSTAPHA, who one day said -to him, _O Abu Hurura, visiting seldom feeds love and friendship_. - -21. SADI, being taken prisoner by the Franks, or Christians, -was redeemed for ten pieces of gold, by one, who also gave him his -daughter in marriage, with one hundred pieces of gold as a dower. -The lady, being a termagant, once reproached him with this; and he -said, _Yes, I was redeemed for ten pieces, and made a slave for a -hundred_. - -22. Some wicked men using a religious very ill, he went to an old -dervise, and complained much. The elder told him, _Son, our habit is -that of patience. Why do you wear it, if it does not fit you?_ - -23. A sage seeing a strong man in a passion, asked the cause, and being -told that it was on account of an affronting word, he exclaimed, _O -strong man, with a weak mind! who could bear an elephant’s load, yet -cannot bear a word_. - -24. A lawyer gave his daughter, who was very deformed in marriage -to a blind man. A celebrated oculist coming to the place, the lawyer -was asked why he did not employ him for his son-in-law? To which he -answered, _Why should I endeavour to procure the divorce of my -daughter?_ - -25. Ardeschir enquiring of a physician, how much food was necessary for -a day? was answered, eight ounces. Ardeschir said, “How can so little -support a man?” The physician replied, _That will support him; if he -takes more, he must support it_.... - -27. A robber said to a beggar, “Art thou not ashamed to stretch out -thy hand to all for a piece of copper?” The beggar answered, _It is -better to stretch it out for a piece of copper, than have it cut off -for a piece of gold_. - -29. SADI being about to purchase a house, a Jew came up and said, “I -am an old neighbour, and know the house to be good and sufficient. Buy -it by all means.” Sadi answered, _The house must be bad if thou art a -neighbour_.... - -31. An old man being asked, why he did not take a wife, answered, _I -do not like old women: and a young woman, I judge from that, can never -like me_. - -32. A courtier sent a foolish son to be educated by a sage. He made -no progress, and some time after the sage brought him back, saying, -_This boy will never be wiser; and he has even made me foolish in -teaching him_. - -33. A king sent his son to an instructor, desiring him to educate the -boy, as he did his own sons. The preceptor laboured in vain to teach -the young prince, though his own sons made great progress. The king -sending for him and reproaching him for this; he answered, _O king, -the education was the same, but the capacity differed. We find gold in -the soil! yet gold is not found in every soil_. - -34. A man having sore eyes went to a mule-doctor, who gave him an -ointment that struck him blind. The man brought his doctor before the -cadi, who acquitted him; saying to the patient, _If you had not been -an ass, you would not have applied to a mule-doctor_. - -35. Sadi saw two boys, one the son of a rich man, the other of a poor, -sitting in a cemetery. The former said “My father’s tomb is marble, -marked with letters of gold: but what is your father’s? two turfs and a -handful of dust spread over them.” The poor boy answered, _Be silent. -Before your father shall have moved his marble! mine shall be already -in paradise_. - -36. MUHAMMED, the learned priest of Gasala, being asked, how -he had acquired so much science? answered, _I never was ashamed to -ask and learn what I did not know_.... - -Jalal uddin Rumi was another Persian who wrote a series of stories -conveying moral maxims. - - - _THE SICK SCHOOLMASTER_ - -The boys of a certain school were tired of their teacher, as he was -very strict in the exaction of diligence; so they consulted together -for the best means of getting rid of him for a time. Said they, “Why -does he not fall ill, so that he may be obliged to be away from school, -and we be released from confinement and work? Alas! he stands as firm -as a rock.” One of them, who was wiser than the rest, suggested this -plan: “I shall go to the teacher, and ask him why he looks so pale, -saying, ‘May it turn out well! But your face has not its usual color. -Is it due to the weather, or to fever?’ This will create some alarm -in his mind. Then you, brother,” he continued, turning to another -boy, “must assist me by using similar words. When you come into the -schoolroom you must say to the teacher, ‘I hope, sir, you are well.’ -This will tend to increase his apprehension, even though in a slight -degree; and you know that even slight doubts are often enough to drive -a man mad. Then a third, a fourth, and a fifth boy must one after -another express his sympathy in similar words, till at last, when -thirty boys successively have given expression to words of like nature, -the teacher’s apprehension will be confirmed.” - -The boys praised his ingenuity, and wished each other success; and -they bound themselves by solemn promises not to shirk doing what was -expected of them. Then the first boy bade them take oaths of secrecy, -lest some telltale should let the matter out. - -Next morning the boys came to school in a cheerful mood, having -resolved on adopting the foregoing plan. They all stood outside the -schoolhouse, waiting for the arrival of the friend who had helped them -in the time of need--since it was he who had originated the plan: it -is the head that is the governor of the legs. The first boy arrived, -entered the schoolroom, and greeted the teacher with “I hope you are -well, sir, but the color of your face is very pale.” - -“Nonsense!” said the teacher; “there is nothing the matter with me. Go -and take your seat.” But inwardly he was somewhat apprehensive. Another -boy came in, and in similar words greeted the teacher, whose misgivings -were thereby somewhat increased. And so on, one boy after another -greeted him, till his worst apprehensions seemed to be confirmed, and -he was in great anxiety regarding the state of his health. - -He got enraged at his wife. “Her love for me is waning,” he thought. “I -am in this bad state of health, and she did not even ask what was the -matter with me. She did not draw my attention to the color of my face. -Perhaps she is not unwilling that I should die.” - -Full of such thoughts, he came to his home, followed by the boys, and -flung open the door. His wife exclaimed, “I hope nothing is the matter -with you! Why have you returned so soon?” - -“Are you blind?” he answered. “Look at the color of my face, and at my -condition! Even strangers show sympathetic alarm about my health.” - -“Well, I see nothing wrong,” said the wife. “You must be laboring under -some senseless delusion.” - -“Woman,” he rejoined impatiently, “you are most obstinate! Can you not -perceive the altered hue of my face and the shivering of my body? Go -and get my bed made, that I may lie down, for my head is dizzy.” - -The bed was prepared, and the teacher lay down on it, giving vent -to sighs and groans. The boys he ordered to sit there and read the -lessons, which they did with much vexation. They said to themselves, -“We did so much to be free, and still we are in confinement. The -foundation was not well laid; we are bad architects. Some other plan -must now be adopted, so that we may be rid of this annoyance.” - -The clever boy who had instigated the first plot advised the others -to read their lessons very loudly; and when they did so, he said, in -a tone to be overheard by the teacher, “Boys, your voices disturb our -teacher. Loud voices will only increase his headache. Is it proper that -he should be made to suffer pain for the sake of the trifling fees he -gets from us?” - -The teacher said, “He is right. Boys, you may go. My headache has -increased. Be off with you!” And the boys scampered away home as -eagerly as birds fly toward a spot where they see grain. - -The mothers of the boys, on seeing them return, got angry, and thus -challenged them, “This is the time for you to learn writing, and you -are engaged in play. This is the time for acquiring knowledge, and you -fly from your books and your teacher.” - -The boys urged that it was no fault of theirs, and that they were in no -way to blame, for, by the decree of fate, their teacher had become very -ill. - -The mothers, disbelieving, said, “This is all deceit and falsehood. You -would not scruple to tell a hundred lies to get a little quantity of -buttermilk. To-morrow morning we shall go to the teacher’s house, and -shall ascertain what truth there is in your assertions.” - -So the next morning the mothers went to visit the teacher, whom they -found lying in bed like a very sick person. He had perspired freely, -owing to his having covered himself with blankets. His head was -bandaged, and his face was covered with a kerchief. He was groaning in -a feeble voice. - -The ladies expressed their sympathy, hoped his headache was getting -less, and swore by his soul that they had been unaware until quite -lately that he was so ill. - -“I, too,” said the teacher, “was unaware of my illness. It was through -those little bastards that I learned of it.” - - --_Stories in Rime (Masnavi)._ - - - _THE INVALID AND HIS DEAF VISITOR_ - -A deaf man was informed that an neighbor of his was ill, so he resolved -upon going to see him. “But,” said he to himself, “owing to my deafness -I shall not be able to catch the words of the sick man, whose voice -must be very feeble at this time. However, go I must. When I see his -lips moving I shall be able to make a reasonably good conjecture of -what he is saying. When I ask him, ‘How are you, oh, my afflicted -friend?’ he will probably reply, ‘I am well,’ or ‘I am better.’ I shall -then say, ‘Thanks be to God! Tell me, what have you taken for food?’ -He will probably mention some liquid food or gruel. I shall then wish -that the food may agree with him, and shall ask him the name of the -physician under whose treatment he is. On his naming the man, I shall -say, ‘He is a skilful leech. Since it is he who is attending upon you, -you will soon be well. I have had experience of him. Wherever he goes, -his patients very soon recover.” - -So the deaf man, having prepared himself for the visit, went to the -invalid’s bedside, and sat down near the pillow. Then, rubbing his -hands together with assumed cheerfulness, he inquired, “How are you?” -“I am dying,” replied the patient. “Thanks be to God!” rejoined the -deaf man. - -The sick man was troubled in his heart, and said to himself, “What kind -of thanksgiving is this? Surely he must be an enemy of mine!”--little -thinking that his visitor’s remark was but the result of wrong -conjecture. - -“What have you been eating?” was the next question; to which the reply -was, “Poison!” “May it agree with you,” was the wish expressed by the -deaf man which only increased the other’s vexation. - -“And pray, who is your physician?” again asked the visitor, “Azrael, -the Angel of Death. And now, be-gone with you!” growled the invalid. -“Oh, is he?” pursued the deaf man. “Then you ought to rejoice, for he -is a man of auspicious footsteps. I saw him only just now, and asked -him to devote to you his best possible attention.” - -With these words he bade the sick man good-by, and withdrew, rejoicing -that he had satisfactorily performed a neighborly duty. Meanwhile, -the other man was angrily muttering to himself, “This fellow is an -implacable foe of mine. I did not know his heart was so full of -malignity.” - - --_Stories in Rime (Masnavi)._ - - - _OLD AGE--DIALOGUE_ - -_Old Man._ I am in sore trouble owing to my brain. - -_Physician._ The weakness of the brain is due to old age. - -_Old Man._ Dark spots are floating before my eyes. - -_Physician._ That, too, comes from old age, oh, venerable sheikh! - -_Old Man._ My back aches very much. - -_Physician._ The result of old age, oh, lean sheikh! - -_Old Man._ No food that I take agrees with me. - -_Physician._ The failure of the digestive organs is also due to -old age. - -_Old Man._ I am afflicted with hard breathing. - -_Physician._ Yes, the breathing ought to be affected in that -manner. When old age comes, it brings a hundred complaints in its train. - -_Old Man._ My legs are getting feeble, and I am unable to walk -much. - -_Physician._ It is nothing but old age which obliges you to sit in -a corner. - -_Old Man._ My back has become bent like a bow. - -_Physician._ This trouble is merely the consequence of old age. - -_Old Man._ My eyesight is quite dim, oh, sage physician! - -_Physician._ Nothing but old age, oh, wise man! - -_Old Man._ Oh, you idiot, always harping on the same theme! Is -this all you know of the science of medicine? Fool, does not your -reason tell you that God has assigned a remedy to every ailment? You -are a stupid ass, and with your paltry stock of learning are still -fumbling in the mire! - -_Physician._ Oh, you dotard past sixty, know, then, that even this -rage and fury is due to old age! - -From Abu Ishak we glean this delightful bit of parody on Hafiz. - - - _PARODY ON HAFIZ_ - - HAFIZ ABU-ISHAK - - Will those who can transmute Will those who sell cooked - dust into gold by looking sheep’s-head give us a sidelong - at it ever give a sidelong glance, when they open - glance at us? their pots in the morning? - - The beauteous Turk, who The cook has to-day - is the cause of death to her bought onions for giving a - lovers, has to-day gone forth relish to minced meat. Let - intoxicated. Let us see from us see, now, from whose - whose eyes the heart’s blood eyes tears shall begin to - shall begin to flow. flow. - - I have a yearning for se- I have an inclination for - clusion and peace. But, oh! abstinent living and observing - those narcissus-like eyes! fasts. But, oh! in what - The commotion they cause a tempting way doth the - me is inexpressible! roasted lamb wink at me! - - No one should give up his No one should partake of - heart and his religion in the sauce to accompany sweetened - expectation of faithfulness rice colored with saffron. - from his sweetheart. My My having done so - having done so has resulted has given me cause for infinite - to me in lifelong repentance. regret. - And from - - - DO-PYAZAH - - _THESE DEFINITIONS_ - -_Angel._ A hidden telltale. - -_King._ The idlest man in the country. - -_Minister of State._ The target for the arrows of the sighs of the -oppressed. - -_Flatterer._ One who drives a profitable trade. - -_Lawyer._ One ready to tell any lie. - -_Fool._ An official, for instance, who is honest. - -_Physician._ The herald of death. - -_Widow._ A woman in the habit of praising her husband when he is -gone. - -_Poet._ A proud beggar. - -_Mirror._ One that laughs at you to your face. - -_Bribe._ The resource of him who knows he has a bad cause. - -_National Calamity._ A ruler who cares for nothing but the -pleasures of the harem. - -_Salutation._ A polite hint to others to get up and greet you with -respect. - -_Priest Calling to Prayers._ A disturber of the indolent. - -_Faithful Friend._ Money. - -_Truthful Man._ One who is regarded as an enemy by every one. - -_Silence._ Half consent. - -_Service._ Selling one’s independence. - -_Hunting._ The occupation of those who have no work to do. - -_Mother-in-Law._ A spy domiciled in your house. - -_Debtor._ An ass in a quagmire. - -_Liar._ A person making frequent use of the expression, “I swear -to God it is true!” - -_Guest._ One in your house who is impatient to hear the dishes -clatter. - -_Poverty._ The consequence of marriage. - -_Hunger._ Something which falls to the lot of those out of -employment. - -_Soporific._ Reading the verses of a dull poet. - -_Druggist._ One who wishes everybody to be ill. - -_Learned Man._ One who does not know how to earn his livelihood. - -_Miser’s Eye._ A vessel which is never full. - - - _DIVING FOR AN EGG--ANECDOTE_ - -The Emperor Akbar was one day sitting with his attendants in the -garden of the palace, close to a large cistern full of water. At the -suggestion of a courtier, the emperor commanded some of the men present -to procure an egg each, and to place it in the cistern in such a manner -that it could easily be found when searched for. - -Soon after the order had been obeyed, the Mollah Do-pyazah came to this -spot. Akbar then turned to his attendants, saying he had dreamed the -night before that there were eggs in the cistern, and that all who were -his faithful servants had dived in, and brought out an egg. Whereupon -the attendants one by one dived into the water, each one issuing forth -with an egg in his hand. Do-pyazah, not disposed himself to enter the -water, the emperor asked why he alone held aloof. The mollah, thus -pressed, divested himself of his outer garments and plunged in. - -He searched for a long time, but could not find a single egg. At length -he emerged from the cistern, and, moving his arms in the manner of a -cock flapping his wings, he cried aloud, “Cock-a-doodle-doo!” - -“What,” asked Akbar, “is the meaning of this?” - -“Your Majesty,” came the reply, “those who brought you the eggs were -hens, but I am a cock, and you must not expect an egg from me.” - -At which Akbar laughed heartily, and had Do-pyazah well rewarded. - - * * * * * - -The Chinese are more noted for their wit that is wisdom, than for their -humor. - -Confucius, doubtless the greatest of their philosophers, born 551 -B.C., left many sayings which became proverbs, yet which -embodied only the elementary morality of all ages and races. - -These are some of the sayings from _The Analects of Confucius_. - -“While a man’s father is alive, look at the bent of his will; when his -father is dead, look at his conduct.” - -“An accomplished scholar is not a cooking-pot.” - -“When good order prevailed in his country, Ning Wu acted the part of -a wise man; when his country was in disorder, he acted the part of a -fool. Others may equal his wisdom, but they cannot equal his folly.” - -“How can one know about death, when one does not understand life?” - -“Four horses cannot overtake the tongue.” - -“If you were not covetous, you could not even bribe a man to steal from -you.” - -“When their betters love the _Rules_ [_of Propriety_], then -the folk are easy tools.” - -“Why use an ox-knife to kill a hen?” - -“There are two classes that never change: the supremely wise and the -profoundly stupid.” - -“If a man is disliked at forty, he always will be.” - -“When driving with a woman, hold the reins in one hand and keep the -other behind your back.” - -Chwang Tze, another ancient, wrote much of life, death and immortality, -but showed little sense of humor therein. - -One of his anecdotes, in lighter vein, follows. - - - _THE PLEASURE OF FISHES--ANECDOTE_ - -Chwang Tze and a friend had strolled on to a bridge over the Hao, when -the former observed, “Look how the minnows are darting about! That is -the pleasure of fishes.” - -“Not being a fish yourself,” objected the friend, “how can you possibly -know in what the pleasure of fishes consists?” - -“And you not being I,” retorted Chwang Tze, “how can you know that I do -not know?” - -To which the friend replied, “If I, not being you, cannot know what you -know, it follows that you, not being a fish, cannot know in what the -pleasure of fishes consists.” - -“Let us go back,” rejoined Chwang Tze, “to your original question. You -ask me how I know in what the pleasure of fishes consists. Well, I -know that I am enjoying myself over the Hao, and from this I infer that -the fishes are enjoying themselves in it.”--_Autumn Floods._ - -Sung Yu gives us this satirical outburst about - - - _POPULARITY_ - - The eagle is king of the birds; among fishes - Leviathan holds the first place. - Cleaving the far, crimson clouds, - The eagle soars upward apace, - With only the blue sky above, - Into remote realms of space; - But the grandeur of heaven and earth - Is naught to the hedge-sparrow race. - The whale through one oceans swims, - To take its course through a second; - While the minnow measures a puddle - As the width of the sea might be reckoned. - And just as with birds and fishes, - Is the case, to be sure, with man. - Here soars a resplendent eagle, - There swims one huge leviathan: - Behold the philosopher sapient, - Whose fame will never grow dim; - Alone in the might of his wisdom-- - Can the rabble understand him? - -Yuan Mei, however, possessed a satiric humor so keen as to place him -among the true wits. - -His letter to a friend might have been written today and his Cookery -Notes are such as are found in our current comics. - - - _A STANZA FOR A TOBACCO-POUCH_ - -DEAR FRIEND: - -I have received your letter of congratulation, and am much obliged. -At the end of the letter, however, you mention that you have a -tobacco-pouch for me, which will be forwarded upon the receipt of -a stanza. But such an exchange would seem to establish a curious -precedent. If for a tobacco pouch you expect in return a stanza, for -a hat or a pair of boots you would demand a whole poem; while your -brother might bestow a cloak or coat upon me, and believe himself -entitled to an epic. At this rate, dear friend, your congratulations -would become rather costly to me. - -Let me instruct you, on the other hand, that a man once gave a thousand -yards of silk for a phrase, and another man a beautiful girl for a -stanza--which makes your tobacco-pouch look like a slight inducement, -does it not? - -Mencius forbids the taking advantage of people on the ground of one’s -rank or merits. How much worse, therefore, to do so by virtue of a mere -tobacco-pouch! Elegant as a tobacco-pouch may be, it is only the work -of a sempstress; but my poetry, poor as it may be, is the work of my -brain. The exchange would evidently be complimentary to the sempstress, -and the reverse to me. - -Now, if you had taken needle and thread and made the pouch -yourself--ah, then what a difference! Then, indeed, a dozen stanzas -would not have been too great a return. But it would hardly be proper -to ask a famous warrior like yourself to lay down sword and shield for -needle and thread. Nor, dear friend, am I likely to get the pouch at -all, if you take offense at these little jokes of mine. What I advise -you to do is, to bear with me patiently, send the tobacco-pouch, and -wait for the stanza until it comes. - - --_Letters._ - - - _RECIPES_ - -Birds’ nests and water-slugs have no particular flavor of their own, -and are therefore not worth eating. - -The best cook cannot prepare artistically more than five or six -different dishes in one day. A host of mine once had forty courses -served at a meal, and as soon as I got home I called for a bowl of rice -to still my hunger. - -In order to enjoy the pleasures of the palate to the fullest degree, -you must be sober. If you are drunk, you cannot tell one flavor from -another. - -The ingredients of a dish should always harmonize with one -another--like two people in marriage. - -Some cooks use the flesh of chickens and pigs for one soup, and as -chickens and pigs have souls, they will hold those cooks to account, in -the next world, for their treatment of them in this. - -Bamboo-shoots ought never to be cut with a knife which has just been -used on onions. - -While cooking, do not allow ashes from your pipe, perspiration from -your face, soot from the fuel, or beetles from the ceiling to drop -into the saucepan: the guests would be likely to pass the dish -by.--_Cookery Book_ - - * * * * * - -The following proverbs are generally attributed to the Chinese, some of -them being the wisdom of Confucius. - - - _PROVERBS_ - -An avaricious man, who can never get enough, is like a snake trying to -swallow an elephant. - -To draw the picture of a tiger, and make a dog out of it, is to imitate -a masterpiece and spoil it. - -Human pleasures are like the flittings of sparrows. - -A narrow-minded man resembles a frog in a well. - -Do not pull up your stockings in a melon-patch, or straighten your hat -in a peach orchard; any one seeing you may think you are stealing. - -To talk much and arrive nowhere is the same as climbing a tree to catch -a fish. - -One thread does not make a rope. - -The tiger does not walk with the hind. - -You can neither buy wood in the forest nor fish by the lake. - -If a blind man leads another blind man, they will both fall into a -hole. - -No maker of idols worships the gods; he knows their composition too -well. - -A man with a purple nose may be very temperate in drink, only no one -will believe it. - -Money makes the blind man see. - -We admire our own writings, but other men’s wives. - -If you are afraid of being found out, leave it alone. - -Bend your neck if the eaves are low. - -It’s not the wine that makes a man drunk; it’s the man himself. - -A whisper on earth sounds like thunder in heaven. - -To get a favor granted is harder than to kill a tiger. - -Sweep the snow from your own door. - -If there were no error there could be no truth. - -A needle never pricks with both ends. - -Don’t put two saddles on one horse. - -Trust nature rather than a bad doctor. - - * * * * * - -The Japanese offer little that can be quoted. Their comedies are long -and not very funny, their wit is heavy and bitterly satirical. - -One specimen is given from _The Land of Dreams_ by Kiokutei Bakin. - - - _ON CLOTHES AND COMFORTS_ - -However much money you have, you will not keep it long; it will leave -you, just like a traveler who has stayed overnight at an inn. The only -substantial things in life are food and drink. Any little house you -can just crawl into is large enough. The only difference between an -emperor’s palace and a straw hut is in their size and their situation, -one being in town and the other in the country. A single room, with -a mat long enough for you to stretch out your whole body, is quite -sufficient lodging. As for the clothes which you dress your carcass in, -the richest brocades and the commonest sackcloth differ only in being -clean or dirty. After you are dead, no one can tell, from looking at -your naked body, what sort of clothes you wore while alive. If these -facts were to become recognized, our clothes would be patched with any -sort of material or color. Now, however, a man will buy new, expensive -garments which he does not really want, owe the money for them, strut -about in these borrowed plumes, and finally pawn them. - - --_The Land of Dreams._ - - - _COLLECTIONS_ - -Apologues and stories, now common to all the world, had their origin -in remote antiquity. Eastern narratives were for the most part brought -to Europe orally, but some were later translated from the Oriental -writings. - -Since at first, Religion and Learning went hand in hand, these stories -were of a moral and instructive nature. Their wit was the wit of -wisdom, the pithiness of graphic representation of truth. - -But with the development of the wit of amusement, the rise of ribald -laughter and the supremacy of priests and monks, the stories took on a -mirthful character which may or may not have added to their efficacy as -cautionary teachings. - -Humor, then, as now, was founded on the feeling of superiority which -comes from knowledge. The stories were invariably of the discomfiture -of some foolish person, and thereby, either definitely or tacitly -advised against that particular foolishness. - -Narrative fiction was entirely in parables or apologues, the latter -term having come to be used exclusively for the tales in which animals -are invested with human traits. - -Fables, also, is a term usually restricted to moral lessons taught by -anecdotes of beasts in human conditions. - -As usual in the matter of legendary literature various countries -contend for the honor of producing the first fables. - -The bestowal of the palm rests between the Hindus and the Hebrews, but -the decision may never be made. - -A plausible assumption for the necessity of fables lies in the fact -that it was not the part of wisdom openly to administer reproof or -advice to the Asiatic potentates, wherefore it was done by the device -of speaking through the mouths of the fictitious characters. - -And, through the ages, this plan has been found to work with -intractables of less celebrity. - -But the question of the origin of these stories is outside our -Outline,--we may merely state that before, during and after the -Crusades, the flood of stories and tales from the Orient into Europe -was continuous. - -Which accounts for the fact that among the oldest stories of the -various countries, duplicates are always found, and the ancient jests -of the Far East have raised and will raise appreciative laughter -as they are translated into all European tongues, including the -Scandinavian. - -As religion gave rise to laughter, so religion was the medium for -disseminating mirth. - -The preachers of the mediæval ages used many amusing stories in their -sermons and the monks often preserved these, with additions of their -own, in enduring literature. - -But literature then was not in the form of circulating libraries, so -the tales traveled from mouth to mouth, gaining sometimes in interest -and sometimes losing charm or worth. - -Perhaps about the tenth century translations began to be grouped into -collections, in Europe, and among the first was the Greek version of -the Fables of Pilpay. Soon after came the _Book of Sindibad_, -which would seem to be the original form of the story of Scheherazade. - -But in most cases the monks were the go-between. - -Their zeal and indefatigability produced masses of material, primarily -designed for the use of preachers, but easily adopted by the laymen. - -The _Sermones_ of Jacques de Vitry, Crusader and prelate, and -the _Liber de Donis_ of Etienne de Bourbon are both remarkable -collections that predated and later gave material to the Gesta -Romanorum. - -As an instance of the ubiquity of stories, it may be mentioned here -that in both the books above noticed, occurs the old tale of the -husband who had two wives, the younger one of whom plucked out all -his gray-white hairs, the older one plucked out all his black hairs, -leaving the poor chap entirely bald. This story is also in the Talmud, -in Chinese Jestbooks and in innumerable others. - -So with many of the ancient tales. They come down through the Fabliaux, -Gesta Romanorum, the Heptameron, the Decameron and on to our own dinner -tables, where many of the “latest” are merely rehashed witticisms of -the ancient monks and priests. - -Nor are the stories fastened on to celebrities often authentic. Many of -Sydney Smith’s witticisms hark back to the Eastern Tales, most of Joe -Miller’s jests have similar paternity. - -Hierocles made a famous collection of old stories translated into -Greek. Others followed rapidly even before the invention of printing. - -After that achievement, collections of stories flooded the book mart -even as they do today. - -Selections from various collections follow. - -Perhaps the oldest collection of tales in the world is that known -as the _Fables of Bidpai or Pilpay_. Both author and date of -production are unknown, but tradition tells us that they were written -in Sanscrit and were the work of one Vishnu Sarma, who wrote them for -the advice and edification of certain princes. The book is enormously -long and though not of humorous intent shows much of the native wit of -the country. - - - FABLES - - - _THE GREEDY AND AMBITIOUS CAT_ - -There was formerly an old Woman in a village, extremely thin, -half-starved, and meager. She lived in a little cottage as dark and -gloomy as a fool’s heart, and withal as close shut up as a miser’s -hand. This miserable creature had for the companion of her wretched -retirements a Cat meager and lean as herself; the poor creature never -saw bread, nor beheld the face of a stranger, and was forced to be -contented with only smelling the mice in their holes, or seeing the -prints of their feet in the dust. If by some extraordinary lucky chance -this miserable animal happened to catch a mouse, she was like a beggar -that discovers a treasure; her visage and her eyes were inflamed -with joy, and that booty served her for a whole week; and out of the -excess of her admiration, and distrust of her own happiness, she would -cry out to herself, “Heavens! Is this a dream, or is it real?” One -day, however, ready to die for hunger, she got upon the ridge of her -enchanted castle, which had long been the mansion of famine for cats, -and spied from thence another Cat, that was stalking upon a neighbour’s -wall like a Lion, walking along as if she had been counting her steps, -and so fat that she could hardly go. The old Woman’s Cat, astonished to -see a creature of her own species so plump and so large, with a loud -voice, cries out to her pursy neighbour, “In the name of pity, speak to -me, thou happiest of the Cat kind! why, you look as if you came from -one of the Khan of Kathai’s feasts; I conjure ye, to tell me how, or -in what region it is that you get your skin so well stuffed?” “Where?” -replied the fat one; “why, where should one feed well but at a King’s -table? I go to the house,” continued she, “every day about dinner-time, -and there I lay my paws upon some delicious morsel or other, which -serves me till the next, and then leave enough for an army of mice, -which under me live in peace and tranquillity; for why should I commit -murder for a piece of tough and skinny mouse flesh, when I can live on -venison at a much easier rate?” The lean Cat, on this, eagerly inquired -the way to this house of plenty, and entreated her plump neighbour to -carry her one day along with her. “Most willingly,” said the fat Puss; -“for thou seest I am naturally charitable, and thou art so lean that -I heartily pity thy condition.” On this promise they parted; and the -lean Cat returned to the old Woman’s chamber, where she told her dame -the story of what had befallen her. The old Woman prudently endeavoured -to dissuade her Cat from prosecuting her design, admonishing her -withal to have a care of being deceived. “For, believe me,” said she, -“the desires of the ambitious are never to be satiated, but when -their mouths are stuffed with the dirt of their graves. Sobriety and -temperance are the only things that truly enrich people. I must tell -thee, poor silly Cat, that they who travel to satisfy their ambition, -have no knowledge of the good things they possess, nor are they truly -thankful to Heaven for what they enjoy, who are not contented with -their fortune.” - -The poor starved Cat, however, had conceived so fair an idea of -the King’s table, that the old Woman’s good morals and judicious -remonstrances entered in at one ear and went out at the other; in -short, she departed the next day with the fat Puss to go to the King’s -house; but alas! before she got thither, her destiny had laid a snare -for her. For being a house of good cheer, it was so haunted with cats, -that the servants had, just at this time, orders to kill all the cats -that came near it, by reason of a great robbery committed the night -before in the King’s larder by several grimalkins. The old Woman’s Cat, -however, pushed on by hunger, entered the house, and no sooner saw a -dish of meat unobserved by the cooks, but she made a seizure of it, -and was doing what for many years she had not done before, that is, -heartily filling her belly; but as she was enjoying herself under the -dresser-board, and feeding heartily upon her stolen morsels, one of the -testy officers of the kitchen, missing his breakfast, and seeing where -the poor Cat was solacing herself with it, threw his knife at her with -such an unlucky hand, that he stuck her full in the breast. However, as -it has been the providence of Nature to give his creature nine lives -instead of one, poor Puss made a shift to crawl away, after she had for -some time shammed dead: but, in her flight, observing the blood come -streaming from her wound; “Well,” said she, “let me but escape this -accident, and if ever I quit my old hold and my own mice for all the -rarities in the King’s kitchen, may I lose all my nine lives at once.” - - - _A RAVEN, A FOX, AND A SERPENT_ - -A Raven had once built her nest for many seasons together in a -convenient cleft of a mountain, but however pleasing the place was to -her, she had always reason enough to resolve to lay there no more; for -every time she hatched, a Serpent came and devoured her young ones. -The Raven complaining to a Fox that was one of her friends, said to -him, “Pray tell me, what would you advise me to do to be rid of this -Serpent?” “What do you think to do?” answered the Fox. “Why, my present -intent is,” replied the Raven, “to go and peck out his eyes when he -is asleep, that so he may no longer find the way to my nest.” The Fox -disapproved this design, and told the Raven, that it became a prudent -person to manage his revenge in such a manner, that no mischief might -befall himself in taking it: “Never run yourself,” says he, “into the -misfortune that once befell the Crane, of which I will tell you the -Fable.” - - - _THE CRANE AND THE CRAY-FISH_ - -A Crane had once settled her habitation by the side of a broad and deep -lake, and lived upon such fish as she could catch in it; these she got -in plenty enough for many years; but at length being become old and -feeble, she could fish no longer. In this afflicting circumstance she -began to reflect, with sorrow, on the carelessness of her past years; -“I did ill,” said she to herself, “in not making in my youth necessary -provision to support me in my old age; but, as it is, I must now make -the best of a bad market, and use cunning to get a livelihood as I -can”: with this resolution she placed herself by the waterside, and -began to sigh and look mighty melancholy. A Cray-fish, perceiving her -at a distance, accosted her, and asked her why she appeared so sad? -“Alas,” said she, “how can I otherwise choose but grieve, seeing my -daily nourishment is like to be taken from me? for I just now heard -this talk between two fishermen passing this way: said the one to the -other, Here is great store of fish, what think you of clearing this -pond? to whom his companion answered, no; there is more in such a lake: -let us go thither first, and then come hither the day afterwards. This -they will certainly perform; and then,” added the Crane, “I must soon -prepare for death.” - -The Cray-fish, on this, went to the fish, and told them what she had -heard: upon which the poor fish, in great perplexity, swam immediately -to the Crane, and addressing themselves to her, told her what they had -heard, and added, “We are now in so great a consternation, that we are -come to desire your protection. Though you are our enemy, yet the wise -tell us, that they who make their enemy their sanctuary, may be assured -of being well received: you know full well that we are your daily food; -and if we are destroyed, you, who are now too old to travel in search -of food, must also perish; we pray you, therefore, for your own sake, -as well as ours, to consider, and tell us what you think is the best -course for us to take.” To which the Crane replied, “That which you -acquaint me with, I heard myself from the mouths of the fishermen; we -have no power sufficient to withstand them; nor do I know any other way -to secure you, but this: it will be many months before they can clear -the other pond they are to go about first: and, in the mean time, I -can at times, and as my strength will permit me, remove you one after -another into a little pond here hard by, where there is very good -water, and where the fishermen can never catch you, by reason of the -extraordinary depth.” The fish approved this counsel, and desired the -Crane to carry them one by one into this pond. Nor did she fail to fish -up three or four every morning, but she carried them no farther than -to the top of a small hill, where she eat them: and thus she feasted -herself for a while. - -But one day, the Cray-fish, having a desire to see this delicate pond, -made known her curiosity to the Crane, who, bethinking herself that -the Cray-fish was her most mortal enemy, resolved to get rid of her at -once, and murder her as she had done the rest; with this design she -flung the Cray-fish upon her neck, and flew towards the hill. But when -they came near the place, the Cray-fish, spying at a distance the small -bones of her slaughtered companions, mistrusted the Crane’s intention, -and laying hold of a fair opportunity, got her neck in her claw, and -grasped it so hard, that she fairly saved herself, and strangled the -Crane. - - * * * * * - -“This example,” says the Fox, “shows you, that crafty tricking people -often become victims to their own cunning.” The Raven, returning -thanks to the Fox for his good advice, said, “I shall not by any means -neglect your wholesome instructions; but what shall I do?” “Why,” -replied the Fox, “you must snatch up something that belongs to some -stout man or other, and let him see what you do, to the end he may -follow you. Which that he may easily do, do you fly slowly; and when -you are just over the Serpent’s hole, let fall the thing that you hold -in your beak or talons whatever it be, for then the person that follows -you, seeing the Serpent come forth, will not fail to knock him on the -head.” The Raven did as the Fox advised him, and by that means was -delivered from the Serpent. - - - _THE MERCHANT AND HIS FRIEND_ - -A Certain Merchant, said Kalila, pursuing her discourse, had once a -great desire to make a long journey. Now in regard that he was not -very wealthy, it is requisite, said he to himself, that before my -departure I should leave some part of my estate in the city, to the -end that if I meet with ill luck in my travels, I may have wherewithal -to keep me at my return. To this purpose he delivered a great number -of bars of iron, which were a principal part of his wealth, in trust -to one of his friends, desiring him to keep them during his absence; -and then taking his leave, away he went. Some time after, having had -but ill luck in his travels, he returned home; and the first thing he -did was to go to his Friend, and demand his iron: but his Friend, who -owed several sums of money, having sold the iron to pay his own debts, -made him this answer: “Truly friend,” said he, “I put your iron into -a room that was close locked, imagining it would have been there as -secure as my own gold; but an accident has happened which nobody could -have suspected, for there was a rat in the room eat it all up.” The -Merchant, pretending ignorance, replied, “It is a terrible misfortune -to me indeed; but I know of old that rats love iron extremely; I have -suffered by them many times before in the same manner, and therefore -can the better bear my present affliction.” This answer extremely -pleased the Friend, who was glad to hear the Merchant so well inclined -to believe that the rats had eaten his iron; and to remove all -suspicions, desired him to dine with him the next day. The Merchant -promised he would, but in the mean time he met in the middle of the -city one of his Friend’s children; the child he carried home, and -locked up in a room. The next day he went to his Friend, who seemed to -be in great affliction, which he asked him the cause of, as if he had -been perfectly ignorant of what had happened. “Oh, my dear friend,” -answered the other, “I beg you to excuse me, if you do not see me so -cheerful as otherwise I would be; I have lost one of my children; I -have had him cried by sound of trumpet, but I know not what is become -of him.” “Oh!” replied the Merchant, “I am grieved to hear this; for -yesterday in the evening, as I parted from hence, I saw an owl in the -air with a child in his claws; but whether it were yours I cannot -tell.” “Why, you most foolish and absurd creature!” replied the Friend, -“are you not ashamed to tell such an egregious lie? An owl, that weighs -at most not above two or three pounds, can he carry a boy that weighs -above fifty?” “Why,” replied the merchant, “do you make such a wonder -at that? as if in a country where one rat can eat an hundred ton weight -of iron, it were such a wonder for an owl to carry a child that weighs -not above fifty pounds in all.” The Friend, upon this, found that the -Merchant was no such fool as he took him to be, begged his pardon for -the cheat which he designed to have put upon him, restored him the -value of his iron, and so had his son again. - - * * * * * - -Other and very ancient Hindoo stories follow. - - - _THE MAID, THE MONKEY, AND THE MENDICANT_ - -On the banks of the Ganges there was once a city named Makandi. And in -a temple, not far from the river, there lived a religious mendicant -with a large number of disciples. He was a great rogue, but to impress -the minds of the credulous people of the neighbourhood, he affected -to be perfectly indifferent to all worldly affairs, and even went so -far as to have taken a vow of perpetual silence. Now, in this city -there resided a wealthy merchant, who believed in the mendicant, -and was one of his devoted followers. The merchant had a beautiful -daughter, who had just come of age, and who, entertaining a tender -feeling for a handsome prince who lived in the neighbourhood, had -begun to communicate with him by means of a confidential servant. -One day the mendicant came on a begging excursion to the house of -the merchant, and his daughter, beautifully dressed, came out with a -silver cup in her hand to give him alms. The beggar as soon as he saw -her forgot his vow of perpetual silence, and exclaimed, “Oh! what a -sight!” but immediately afterwards he was ashamed of the words which -he had uttered, and hastened home to the temple. The merchant, who -had heard these words, thought that there was something unusual in -them, and followed the mendicant to his abode. The latter, on seeing -him, said with tears in his eyes, “Friend, I know that you are greatly -devoted to me, and I grieve to say that a great misfortune will come -upon you. The marks upon the body of your beautiful daughter foretell -the ruin of your family, and the loss of your wealth as soon as she -is married.” These words frightened the merchant almost out of his -wits, and he implored the hypocritical mendicant to tell him if there -were any means of averting the catastrophe. “There is one remedy,” he -replied, “but you will find it hard to practise. You must make a box -with holes in the lid, in the form of a boat, and having administered -a narcotic to your daughter, place her in it, and closing the box, put -it into the Ganges with a lamp burning on it. The waters of the river -will carry her to some distant country, where doubtless she will be -married, but her marriage there will not affect your fortune here.” -Pleased with this apparently disinterested advice, the silly merchant -returned home, and did as he was told. Fortunately, however, for -the girl, her confidential servant heard what was going to be done, -and immediately informed the young prince, the girl’s lover, of the -intentions of her father. At night he accordingly watched by the river, -and as soon as the box was left there he got hold of it, and brought -it home, and taking the sleeping girl out, put into her place a large -and ferocious monkey, and, having closed the lid, sent it back to the -river upon whose broad stream it was floated once more. In the meantime -the mendicant was enjoying golden dreams about the future. Thinking to -secure the girl for himself, he sent some of his disciples to the river -side, and told them to get hold of the box as it came floating down the -stream. He further enjoined them not to pay any attention to anything -they might hear inside the box, but to bring it directly to him as -soon as they found it. On the box being brought, he had it carried to -his cell, and then told his disciples to remain at a distance, and -not to disturb him, as he had to perform some religious ceremonies in -connection with it. The disciples then retired, and the mendicant began -to open the box with the most pleasing anticipations. But alas, the -retribution of sin is often too near. The ferocious monkey, exasperated -by his confinement, jumped out at once, and began to bite, scratch, and -tear the poor mendicant in every way. The latter bawled out as loud as -he could, but his disciples thinking that he was performing religious -ceremonies, or fighting with the devil, did not come to his assistance. -At last he succeeded in opening the door of his room, and got away with -the loss of his nose and an ear. The monkey also bolted through the -door, and disappeared into the jungle. The good people of Nakandi were -much amused with the incident, and drove the mendicant out of the town. -The merchant’s daughter was delighted to find herself with her lover, -while her father, covered with shame, consoled himself with the idea -that she had got a good husband. - - - _ABOUT A WOMAN’S PROMISE_ - -In the city of Madanpur there reigned a king, named Birbar. In the -same city there lived a trader, called Hermyadutt, who had a daughter, -by name Madansena. One day, in the season of spring, she went with -her female friends to a garden, and when there met a young man, named -Somdatt, the son of the merchant Dharmdatt. This young man fell -violently in love with her at first sight, and involuntarily went up -to her, and, taking hold of her hand, began to say, “If thou wilt not -love me, I shall abandon my life on thy account.” The girl said, “You -must not do so, for in doing this you will commit a great sin.” Somdatt -replied, “Excessive love has pierced my heart. The fear of separation -has burnt up my body. From the pain all my memory and intellect are -lost, and at present, through my excess of love, I have no regard -for virtue or sin. If you will give me a promise, I shall hope to -live.” Madansena said, “On the fifth day from this I am going to be -married, then I shall first meet you, and after that I shall go with my -husband.” Having given this promise, and affirming it by oath, she went -home. - -On the fifth day after this she was married, and her husband took her -to his house. After several days her sisters-in-law forcibly took her -to her husband at night, but she would have nothing to do with him; -and, when he wished to embrace her, she jerked him with her hand, and -told the story of her promise to the merchant’s son. Hearing this, her -husband said, “If thou truly wishest to go with him, then go.” - -Having thus obtained her husband’s consent, she put on her best clothes -and jewels, and started for the merchant’s house. On her way she met -a thief, who asked her where she was going alone at that midnight -hour so adorned. She replied, “That she was going to meet her lover.” -On hearing this, the thief said, “Who is your protector here?” She -replied, “Kama, the god of love, with his weapons is my protector.” -She then told the whole story to the thief, and said, “Do not spoil my -attire. I promise you that, on my return, I will give you up all my -jewels.” - -The thief let her go, and she proceeded to the place where Somdatt was -lying asleep. Awaking him suddenly, he arose bewildered, and asked her -who she was, and why she had come. She replied, “I am the daughter of -the merchant Hermyadutt. Do you not remember that you forcibly took my -hand in the garden, and insisted on my giving you my oath, and I swore, -at your bidding, that I would leave the man I was married to, and come -to you. I have come accordingly; do to me whatever thou pleasest.” - -Somdatt asked her if she had told the story to her husband, and she -said that she had told him all, and that he had allowed her to come. -The youth said: “This affair is like jewels without apparel; or food -without clarified butter; or singing out of tune; all these things -are alike. In the same way, dirty garments take away beauty, bad food -saps the strength, a wicked wife takes away life, a bad son ruins the -family. What a woman does not do is of little moment, for she does not -give utterance to the thoughts of her mind; and what is at the tip of -her tongue she does not reveal, and what she does, she does not tell -of. God has created a woman in the world as a wonder.” - -After uttering these words, the merchant’s son said: “I will have -nothing to do with the wife of a stranger.” Hearing this, she returned -homeward. On her way she met the thief, and told him the whole story. -He applauded her highly, and let her go, and she went to her husband -and related to him the whole circumstance. Her husband, however, -evinced no affection for her, but said, “The beauty of the cuckoo -consists in its note alone; the beauty of a woman consists in her -fidelity to her husband; the beauty of an ugly man is his knowledge; -the beauty of a devotee is his patient suffering.” - - * * * * * - -Having related so much, the sprite said, “O king! whose is the highest -merit of these three?” Vickram replied: “The thief’s merit is the -greatest.” “How,” asked the sprite? The king answered: “Seeing that her -heart was set on another man, the husband let her go; through fear of -the king, Somdatt let her alone; whereas there was no reason for the -thief leaving her unmolested; therefore the thief is superior.” - - - _OF A QUEER RELATIONSHIP_ - -There is a city in the south named Dhurumpoor, the king of which was -named Mahabal. Once upon a time another king of the same region led -an army against him, and invested his capital. After much fighting -Mahabal was defeated, and, taking his wife and daughter with him, he -fled by night into the jungle. After travelling several miles the day -broke, and a village came in view. Leaving the queen and princess -seated beneath a tree, he himself went to the village to get something -to eat, and in the meantime a band of Bhils, or hill robbers, came and -surrounded him, and told him to throw down his arms. - -The king, on hearing this, commenced discharging arrows at them, and -the Bhils did the same from their side. After fighting for some time, -an arrow struck the king’s forehead with such force that he reeled and -fell, and one of the Bhils came up and cut off his head. When the queen -and the princess saw that the king was dead, they went back into the -jungle weeping and beating their breasts. After going some distance -they became tired and sat down, and began to be troubled with anxiety. - -Now, it happened that a king named Chandrasen, together with his -son, while pursuing game, came into that very jungle, and the king, -noticing the footprints of the two women, said to his son, “How have -the footprints of human feet come into this vast forest?” The prince -replied, “These are women’s footprints, a man’s foot is not so small.” -The king said, “Come let us look for them, and if we find them I -will give her whose foot is the largest to thee, and I will take the -other for myself.” Having entered into this mutual compact, they went -forward, and soon perceived the two women seated on the ground. They -were delighted at finding them, and seating them on their horses in the -manner agreed upon, they brought them home. The prince took possession -of the queen, as her feet were the largest, and the king took the -princess, and they were married accordingly. - - * * * * * - -Having related so much the sprite said, “Your majesty, what -relationship will there be between the children of these two?” On -hearing this, the king held his tongue through ignorance, being unable -to describe the relationship. - - * * * * * - -Hierocles’ collection of jests is mostly short anecdotes of pedants who -are shown up as simpletons or noodles. - -This principle of humor which is, of course, the rock bottom theory -of the feeling of superiority induced by the discomfiture of the other -man, often pins the jest on the pedant or scholar by way of emphasizing -the point. - -Hierocles was an Alexandrian Neoplatonic philosopher who lived in the -Fifth Century A.D. - -With authorship of the usual legendary haziness the collection may not -have been made by him at all, but it passes for his work. - -The stories themselves came into popular knowledge among the churchmen -of the Middle Ages, and in their existing form probably date about the -ninth century. - -As will be seen from the following examples, many of the jests are -still being used as the basis of Twentieth century after dinner stories -and Comic Weekly jokes. - - - JESTS OF HIEROCLES - -A scholar meeting a physician, said, _I beg your pardon for never -being sick, though you are one of my best friends_. - - * * * * * - -A scholar wishing to catch a mouse that eats his books, baited and set -a trap, and sat by it to watch. - - * * * * * - -A scholar wishing to teach his horse to eat little, gave him no food at -all; and the horse dying, _How unlucky_, said he; _as soon as I -had taught him to live without food he died_! - - * * * * * - -A scholar meaning to sell a house, carried about a stone of it as a -specimen. - - * * * * * - -A scholar desiring to see if sleep became him, shut both his eyes, and -went to the mirror. - - * * * * * - -A scholar having bought a house, looked out of the window, and asked -the passengers, _If the house became him_? - - * * * * * - -A scholar dreaming he hit his foot on a nail, felt it pain him when he -waked, and bound it up. Another scholar coming to see him, asked him, -_Why he went to bed without shoes_. - -A scholar being told the river had carried off a great part of his -ground, answered, _What shall I say?_ - - * * * * * - -A scholar sealed a wine vessel he had, but his man bored the bottom and -stole the liquor. He was astonished at the liquor’s diminishing, though -the seal was entire; and another saying, “Perhaps it is taken out at -the bottom.” The scholar answered, _Most foolish of men, it is not -the under part, but the upper that is deficient_. - - * * * * * - -A scholar meeting a person, said to him, “I heard you were dead.” To -which the other answered, “You see I am alive.” The scholar replied, -_Perhaps so, but he who told me the contrary was a man of much more -credit than you_. - - * * * * * - -A scholar hearing that crows lived two hundred years, bought one, -saying, _I wish to make the experiment_. - - * * * * * - -A scholar being on board a ship in a tempest, when the rest seized upon -different articles to swim ashore on, he laid hold of the anchor. - - * * * * * - -A scholar hearing one of two twins was dead, when he met the other, -asked, _Which of you was it that died? You or your brother?_ - - * * * * * - -A scholar coming to a ferry, went into the boat on horseback. Being -asked the reason, he said, _I am in great haste_. - - * * * * * - -A scholar wanting money sold his books, and wrote to his father, -_Rejoice with me, for now my books maintain me_. - - * * * * * - -A scholar sending his son to war, the youth said, “I shall bring -you back an enemy’s head.” To which the scholar replied, _If you -even lose your own head, I shall be happy to see you return in good -health_. - - * * * * * - -A scholar in Greece receiving a letter from a friend, desiring him to -buy some books there, neglected the business. But the friend arriving -some time after, the scholar said, _I am sorry I did not receive your -letter about the books_. - - * * * * * - -A scholar, a bald man, and a barber, travelling together, agreed each -to watch four hours at night, in turn, for the sake of security. The -barber’s lot came first, who shaved the scholar’s head when asleep, -then waked him when his turn came. The scholar scratching his head, and -feeling it bald, exclaimed, _You wretch of a barber, you have waked -the bald man instead of me_. - - * * * * * - -Pope Alexander VII. asking the celebrated Greek, Leo Allatius, why he -did not enter into orders? he answered, _Because I desire to have it -in my power to marry if I chuse_. The pope adding, And why do you -not marry? Leo replied, _Because I desire to have it in my power to -enter into orders if I chuse_. - - * * * * * - -Erasmus, himself a Satirist, collected thousands of the jests of the -Greeks and Romans. These more often noted the wit than the witlessness -of the speakers and include all degrees of wit from mere whimsicality -to sharpest satire. - -Some of the best ones follow. - - - GREEK - -A friend asking him how great glory was procured, Agesilaus answered, -_By contempt of death_. - - * * * * * - -Being asked the boundaries of the Spartan state, he answered, _The -points of our spears_. - - * * * * * - -One asking him why Sparta had no walls, he shewed him armed citizens, -saying, _These are the walls of Sparta_. - - * * * * * - -Being very fond of his children, he would sometimes ride about on a -cane among them. A friend catching him at this sport, Agesilaus said, -_Tell nobody till you are yourself a father_. - -King Demaratus being asked in company whether he was silent through -folly, or wisdom, answered, _A fool cannot be silent_. - - * * * * * - -Cleomenes the son of Cleombrotus, when presented with some game-cocks, -by a person who, enhancing the gift, said they were of a breed who -would die before they yielded; answered, _Give me rather some of the -breed that kill them_. - - * * * * * - -Pausanias, when a physician told him “You look well,” answered, _Yes, -you are not my physician_. - - * * * * * - -When the same was blamed by a friend, for speaking ill of a physician, -whom he had never tried, he replied, _If I had tried him, I should -not have lived to speak ill of him_. - - * * * * * - -Charillus, being angry with his slave, said to him, _Were I not in a -passion, I would kill thee_. - - * * * * * - -A dancer saying to a Spartan, “You cannot stand so long on one leg as I -can.” _True_, answered the Spartan, _but any goose can_. - - * * * * * - -Another Spartan mother giving her son his shield, when going to battle, -said _Son, either this, or upon this_. - - * * * * * - -Another to her son who complained that his sword was short, said _Do -you add a step to it_. - - * * * * * - -One objecting to him his luxurious feeding, he showed him some -dear-bought dish, and said, “Would not you buy this, if it were sold -for a penny?” “Surely,” said the other. _Then_, said Aristippus, -_I only give to luxury what you give to avarice_. - - * * * * * - -Diogenes the Cynic, being in the house of Plato, strode over the -carpets with his dirty feet, saying _I trample the pride of -Plato_. _True_, said Plato, _but with a greater pride_. - -Seeing a very unskilful archer shoot, he seated himself by the mark. -The reason was _That he may not hit me_. - -Going to the town of Myndus, and seeing the gates very large, and the -town small, he called out _Men of Myndus! shut your gates least the -town should escape_. - -Being asked of what beast the bite is most dangerous, he answered _Of -wild beasts, that of a slanderer: of tame, that of a flatterer_. - -Entering a dirty bath he said _Where are those washed who wash -here?_ - -Being asked what wine he liked best, he said _Another’s_. - -Crates the Cynic of Thebes, being asked a remedy for love, said -_Hunger is one remedy. Time is a better. The best is a rope_. - -Theophrastus to one who was silent in company said _If you are a fool -you do wisely! if you are wise you do foolishly_. - -Empedocles saying to Xenophanes the philosopher “That a wise man could -not be found.” _True_, answered Xenophanes, _for it must be a -wise man who knows him_. - -Archelaus, to a prating barber, who asked how he would please to be -shaved? answered, _In silence_. - -One asking Demosthenes what is the first point in eloquence, he -answered, _Acting_. And the second? _Acting._ And the third? -_Acting still._ - -An Athenian who wanted eloquence, but was very brave, when another had, -in a long and brilliant speech, promised great affairs, got up and -said, _Men of Athens, all that he has said, I will do_. - -Zeuxis entered into a contest of art with Parrhasius. The former -painted grapes so truly that birds came and pecked at them. The latter -delineated a cloth so exactly, that Zeuxis coming in, said, “Take away -the cloth that we may see this piece.” And finding his error, said, -_Parrhasius, thou hast conquered. I deceived but birds, thou an -artist_. - -Zeuxis painted a boy carrying grapes: the birds came again and pecked. -Some applauding, Zeuxis flew to the picture in a passion, saying, _My -boy must be very ill painted_. - -Gnathena the courtesan, when a very small bottle of wine was brought -in, with the praise that it was very old, answered, _It is very -little for its age_. - -Philip of Macedon, sitting in judgment after dinner, an old woman -receiving an unjust sentence, exclaimed, “I appeal.” “To whom!” said -Philip. _To Philip, when sober_, answered the matron. The king -took the lesson. - - - ROMAN - -A soldier boasting of a scar in his face, from a wound in battle, -Augustus said, _Yes, you will look back when you run away_. - -Fabia Dollabella saying, she was thirty years of age; Cicero answered, -_It must be true, for I have heard it these twenty years_. - -Seeing Lentulus, his son-in-law, a man of very small stature, walking -up, with a long sword at his side, he called out, _Who has tied my -son-in-law to that sword?_ - -One finding his shoes eaten with mice, in the morning when he rose, -asked Cato, in great agitation, the meaning of the portent; who -answered, _It is no prodigy that mice should eat shoes! had the shoes -eaten the mice, it would have been indeed a prodigy_. - -When Brutus was dissuaded from his last battle, as the jeopardy was -great, he only said, _To-day all will be well, or I shall not -care_. - - * * * * * - -A large bull being produced in the amphitheatre, the hunter struck -ten times, and missed. Gallienus, the emperor, who was present, sent -the hunter a wreath: and all wondering, he said, _It is extremely -difficult to miss such a mark so often_. - - * * * * * - -One saying, that in Sicily he had bought a lamprey five feet long, for -a trifle; Galba, the orator, to reprove the lye, said, _No wonder. -They are found there so long, that the fishers constantly use them for -cables._ - - * * * * * - -Scipio Nasica going to visit Ennius the poet, was told by his -maid-servant, that he was not at home, though he knew he was. A few -days after Ennius came to see Nasica, who hearing his voice, called -out, that he was not within. Then said Ennius, “What! Do not I hear -your voice?” To which Nasica replied, _You are an impudent fellow. I -believed your maid! and you will not believe myself_. - - * * * * * - -Sulpitius Galba the orator, pretended to sleep once, while Mecenas made -love to his wife, but seeing, at the same time, a slave stealing wine -from the side-board, he cried, _Friend, I do not sleep for all_. - - * * * * * - -From the collection of Poggio we get other Italian stories. - - * * * * * - -Some clowns going to Arezzo, to buy a crucifix for their church, the -carver seeing them very stupid, said, Do you want a living or a dead -crucifix? They requiring time to consider: after much deliberation, -returned, saying, _Make us a living one! for if our neighbours be not -pleased with that, we can easily kill it_. - - * * * * * - -An inhabitant of a maritime town, looking out at a window, and seeing -the ocean in a violent storm, and many vessels tossing about, said to -a friend who was with him, “I wonder so many people go to sea, when so -many die there.” _Do not you wonder_, answered the friend, _why -so many people go to bed, when so many die there?_ - - * * * * * - -Bardella da Mantoua, being led to execution, a priest, who was with -him, said, “Be of good cheer, for to-night you will sup with the Virgin -Mary, and with the apostles.” Bardella answered, _It will be a favour -if you will go for me, for this is a fast-day with me_. - - * * * * * - -Marcello da Scopeto, consulting Coccheto da Trievi, the physician, he -wrote a receipt, and said, “Here, take this at three times; one every -morning.” Marcello cut the paper in three; and made a shift to swallow -it in three mornings. - - * * * * * - -Tosetto one day putting the physician Zerboico in a violent passion; he -said, “Peace, rogue. Do not I know that your father was a bricklayer?” -Tosetto answered, _Nobody knew this, save your father, who used to -carry him lime_. - - * * * * * - -The following are from _Il Cortegiano_, by Castiglione. - - * * * * * - -An Italian Doctor of Law, seeing a criminal, who was whipped, walking -very slowly during the operation, asked him why he did not hasten, -that he might have fewer stripes; adding many arguments to shew that -the slower he went, the more he must suffer. To which, the criminal, -standing still, and looking him full in the face, replied with great -gravity, _When you are whipped through the streets, walk as you -please, and pray allow me to enjoy the same liberty_. - - * * * * * - -Duke Frederic of Modena, having built a palace, was at a loss what to -do with the rubbish. An abbot, standing by, told him to cause a pit -to be digged large enough to contain it. “And what,” said Frederic, -laughing, “shall I do with the earth which is dug out of the pit?” To -which the abbot, with great wisdom, replied, _Make the pit so large -as to hold all_. - -Ponzio of Sila seeing a rustic who had two capons to sell, and agreeing -on the price, begged him also to carry them to his lodging, where he -was going, and he would pay him for his pains. Ponzio led him to a -round bell-tower, separate from the church, near which was an alley: -when standing still, Ponzio said, “I have wagered a couple of capons -with a friend, that this bell-tower is not forty feet round, and have -got a packthread here that we may try it.” So drawing the thread -from his pocket, he gave one end to the rustic; bidding him hold it, -while he went round. But when Ponzio came to the other side of the -bell-tower, where the alley was, he fixed the thread with a nail, and -ran down the alley with the capons. The peasant after long standing and -bawling, went round, and had the nail and packthread for his capons and -labour. - - * * * * * - -Not every tongue offers us collections to be translated, nor are all -those that are available yet translated, but we may give a few of -Spanish origin, taken from the collection of Melchior de Santa Cruz -which are the flowers of Spanish Apothegms and wise or witty sayings. - -Like jesters of all other nations the Spaniards saw fit to heap -sarcasms on the medical profession. - -We can only assume that in those days doctors had not reached the -heights of sapience they have since attained. - -And also, we must remember that it was the custom for the unlearned to -poke fun at the scholars, hence all professions felt the satiric lash. - - * * * * * - -At the table of Pope Alexander the sixth, the company debated one -day, if it were advantageous to a state to have physicians in it? The -greater part held not; and alleged, as a reason, that Rome had passed -her first, and best, six hundred years without them. But the pope -said, he was not of that opinion, _for were there no physicians, -the multitude of mankind would be so great, that the world could not -contain them_. - - * * * * * - -A Biscayan clergyman, a follower of the cardinal Don Pedro Gonzales de -Mendoza, pulled one day a pistol out of his pocket. The cardinal saw -him, and reproved him, saying, “That it was indecent for a clergyman -to carry arms.” The Biscayan answered, “Most reverend lord, I do not -carry arms to hurt any man, but to defend myself against the dogs of -this country, which are remarkable for fierceness.” The cardinal said, -“I can tell you a charm against dogs. You need only repeat any verse -of the gospel of St. John.” The Biscayan replied, _Yes, my lord, -but that does not apply in every case, for many of our dogs do not -understand Latin_. - - * * * * * - -The same cardinal said of the monks, who, by shaving the top and under -part of the head, form a crown of hair around, that they had crowns -which the most ambitious would not envy. - - * * * * * - -A bishop sent a present of six capons to brother Bernaldino Palomo, but -the servant who carried them stole one. _Tell his lordship_, said -Palomo, _that I kiss his hands for the five capons.--Do you kiss his -hands for the other_. - - * * * * * - -Juan de Ayala, lord of the town of Cabolla, slew a crane. His cook, -when he dressed it, gave a leg to his mistress. When it was served up, -Juan said, Where is the other leg? The cook answered, Cranes have but -one leg. The day following, Juan took his cook to the chace with him, -and perceiving a flock of cranes, which, as usual with that bird, all -stood upon one leg, the cook said, Your worship sees the truth of what -I said. Juan riding up to the birds called, _Ox, Ox, Ox_. The -cranes being startled, put down the other leg: and Juan said, See, you -knave, have they two legs or one? The cook answered, _Body of me, -sir, had you called Ox, Ox, to the one you dined on yesterday it would -have produced its other leg too_. - - * * * * * - -Perico de Ayala, the buffoon of the Marquis de Villena, came to see -Don Frances, the buffoon of Charles V. when he lay on his death bed. -Perico seeing him in so bad a way, said, Brother Don Frances, I request -you, by the great friendship which always was between us, that when you -go to heaven (which I believe must be very soon, since you lived so -pious a life), you will beseech God to have mercy on my soul. Frances -answered, _Tie a thread on this finger, that I may not forget it_. -These were his last words; and he instantly expired. - - * * * * * - -The servants of a Spanish lord said, in his presence, that Don Diego -Deza, archbishop of Seville, was very liberal to his domestics. The -lord answered, So he may, for he has his wealth but for his life. A -page replied, _And for how many lives has your lordship yours?_ - - * * * * * - -Some thieves trying one night to break into a shop, in which two -servant men lay; one of them called to the robbers. _Come back when -we are asleep._ - - * * * * * - -A rich man sent to call a physician for a slight disorder he had -suffered the preceding night. The physician felt his pulse, and said, -Sir, do you eat well? Yes, said the patient. Do you sleep well? I do. -_Then_, said the physician, _I shall give you something to take -away all that_. - - * * * * * - -A labourer intending to bind his son apprentice to a butcher, asked a -gentleman of the village, his friend, to whom he should put him. The -answer was, _You had best bind him to the physician, for he is the -best butcher I know_. - - * * * * * - -A physician went to visit a young lady, daughter of a nobleman. -Desiring her arm, to feel her pulse, the damsel, from pride, covered -the place with the sleeve of her shift. The physician also drew down -his coat sleeve, and applying it, said, _A linen pulse must have a -woollen physician_. - - * * * * * - -A bad painter, who had never produced any thing worth, went to another -place, and commenced physician. A person who knew him, meeting him -there, asked the reason of this change. _Because_ said he, _if I -now commit faults, the earth covers them_. - -To a student of a college was brought a large dish of soup, and only -one pea in it. He rose, and began to strip. His companion asking what -was the matter, he answered, _I am going to swim after that pea_. - - * * * * * - -The effects of a merchant, who was greatly in debt, being on sale, one -bought a pillow, saying, _That it must be good to sleep on, since he -could sleep on it, who owed so much_. - - * * * * * - -The same merchant being asked, how he could sleep with such debts upon -him? said, _The wonder is, how my creditors could sleep_. - - * * * * * - -A Gallician, being at the war of Granada, received a wound in the head -with an arrow. The surgeon arriving, said, upon examination, You are a -dead man, the arrow has pierced your brain. The Gallician said, Look -again, for that is impossible. The surgeon replied, It is so; I see it -plain. _It cannot be_, said the Gallician: _for if I had any -brain, I should not have been here_. - - * * * * * - -A man went to borrow an ass of a neighbour, who said the ass was from -home. Meanwhile the animal chanced to bray: upon which the borrower -exclaimed, How! did you not tell me the ass was abroad? The other -replied, in a passion, _Will you prefer the ass’s word to mine?_ - - * * * * * - -A passenger going to Peru, a great storm arose; and the master of the -vessel ordered, that the most burdensome articles that every one had -should be thrown into the sea, to lighten the vessel. Upon which this -passenger ran and brought up his wife, saying, _That she was the most -burdensome article he had_. - - * * * * * - -A squire being asked, why he had married a deaf wife? said, _In hopes -she was also dumb_. - - * * * * * - -The German nation made small pretence to wit or humor. What we have of -their early efforts is either gross or stupid. - -A few specimens taken from their mediæval Jest collections will quickly -prove this. - - * * * * * - -A malicious woman often beat her husband; being reproved for it, and -told that her husband was her head, she answered, _May not I beat my -own head as I please?_ - - * * * * * - -Some Dutchmen conversing in a bookseller’s shop at Leyden, an unknown -German came in, upon which one of them exclaimed, “Why is Saul among -the prophets?” The German retorted: _He is seeking his father’s -asses_. - - * * * * * - -A very ignorant priest saying mass, saw on the margin of his book, -_Salta per tria_ (skip three); meaning that he should find the -rest of the office three leaves further on; upon which he leaped three -steps forwards from the altar. The clowns about him, thinking he had -suddenly gone mad, took and bound him, and carried him home. - - * * * * * - -One being asked, what made him bald? said, _My hair_. - - * * * * * - -A lady asking that celebrated general, prince Maurice, who was the -first captain of the age? he answered, _The marquis of Spinola is the -second_. He thereby gave to understand, that he knew himself to be -the first; but did not chuse either to say so, or tell a falsehood. - - * * * * * - -Two ladies of high rank, disputing the precedence in a procession, the -Emperor, Charles V. desired they would make him their arbiter. Having -heard the reasons on both sides, he found no other way to end the -difference, than by ordering that the most foolish should go first. -After which there were as many disputes who should go last; till they -agreed, that each should be foolish in her turn. - - * * * * * - -Charles V. going to see the new cloister of the Dominicans at Vienna, -overtook a peasant, who was carrying a sucking pig, and whose cries -were so disagreeable to the emperor, that, after many expressions of -impatience, he said to the peasant, “My friend, do not you know how -to silence a sucking pig?” The poor man said modestly, that he really -did not, and should be happy to learn. “Take it by the tail,” said -the Emperor. The peasant finding this succeed upon trial, turned to -the Emperor, and said, _Faith, friend, you must have been longer at -the trade than me, for you understand it better_. An answer which -furnished repeated laughter to Charles and his court. - - - EPIGRAMS - -Collections of Mediæval Epigrams are both numerous and lengthy and -not infrequently their comparative value depends largely on the -translator’s learning or talent. - -For instance a distich of Plato’s is thus translated by Coleridge, - - - _THE THIEF AND THE SUICIDE_ - - Jack, finding gold, left a rope on the ground; - Bill, missing his gold, used the rope which he found. - -and is thus rendered by Shelley, - - A man was about to hang himself, - Finding a purse, then threw away his rope; - The owner, coming to reclaim his pelf, - The halter found and used it. So is Hope - Changed for Despair--one laid upon the shelf, - We take the other. Under heaven’s high cope - Fortune is God--all you endure and do - Depends on circumstance as much as you. - -But the modernization is not just now our pursuit, so the epigrams -will be given in something approaching chronological order and the -translator’s name mentioned when known. - - - PLATO - - _THE MISER AND THE MOUSE_ - - “Thou little rogue, what brings thee to my house?” - Said a starv’d miser to a straggling mouse. - “Friend,” quoth the mouse, “thou hast no cause to fear; - I only _lodge_ with thee, I _eat_ elsewhere.” - - - LUCILLIUS - - _A MISER’S DREAM_ - - Flint dream’d he gave a feast, ’twas regal fare, - And hang’d himself in ’s sleep in sheer despair. - - - NICARCHUS - - _THE GREAT CONTENTION_ - - Three dwarfs contended by a state decree, - Which was the least and lightest of the three. - First, Hermon came, and his vast skill to try, - With thread in hand leap’d through a needle’s eye. - Forth from a crevice Demas then advanc’d - And on a spider’s web securely danc’d. - What feat show’d Sospiter in this high quarrel?-- - No eyes could see him, and he won the laurel. - - - UNKNOWN AUTHOR - - _ON LATE-ACQUIRED WEALTH_ - - Poor in my youth, and in life’s later scenes - Rich to no end, I curse my natal hour, - Who nought enjoy’d while young, denied the means; - And nought when old enjoy’d, denied the power. - - - _A VOICE FROM THE GRAVE_ - - Phido nor hand nor touch to me applied; - Fever’d, I thought but of his name--and died. - - - _ON THE INCONSTANCY OF WOMAN’S LOVE_ - - My Fair says, she no spouse but me - Would wed, though Jove himself were he. - She says it: but I deem - That what the fair to lovers swear - Should be inscribed upon the air, - Or in the running stream. - - - CATULLUS - - _ON HIS OWN LOVE_ - - That I love thee, and yet that I hate thee, I feel; - Impatient, thou bid’st me my reasons explain: - I tell thee, nor more for my life can reveal, - That I love thee, and hate thee--and tell it with pain. - - - ALY BEN AHMED BEN MANSOUR - - _TO THE VIZIR CASSIM OBID ALLAH, ON THE DEATH OF ONE OF HIS SONS_ - - Poor Cassim! thou art doom’d to mourn - By destiny’s decree; - Whatever happen it must turn - To misery for thee. - Two sons hadst thou, the one thy pride, - The other was thy pest; - Ah, why did cruel death decide - To snatch away the best? - No wonder thou should’st droop with woe, - Of such a child bereft; - But now thy tears must doubly flow, - For ah!--the other’s left. - - - THE KHALIPH RADHI BILLAH - - _TO A LADY UPON SEEING HER BLUSH_ - - Leila! whene’er I gaze on thee - My alter’d cheek turns pale, - While upon thine, sweet maid, I see - A deep’ning blush prevail. - Leila, shall I the cause impart - Why such a change takes place? - The crimson stream deserts my heart, - To mantle on thy face. - - - JANUS PANNONIUS - - _ON AURISPA_ - - Aurispa nothing writes though learn’d, for he - By a wise silence seems more learn’d to be. - - - ACTIUS SANNAZARIUS - - _ON AUFIDIUS_ - - A hum’rous fellow in a tavern late, - Being drunk and valiant, gets a broken pate; - The surgeon with his instruments and skill, - Searches his skull, deeper and deeper still, - To feel his brains, and try if they were sound; - And, as he keeps ado about the wound, - The fellow cries--Good surgeon, spare your pains, - When I began this brawl I had no brains. - - - EURICIUS CORDUS - - _TO PHILOMUSUS_ - - If only when they’re dead, you poets praise, - I own I’d rather have your blame always. - - - _THE DOCTOR’S APPEARANCE_ - - Three faces wears the doctor; when first sought - An angel’s--and a god’s the cure half wrought: - But when, that cure complete, he seeks his fee, - The devil looks then less terrible than he. - - - GEORGIUS BUCHANANUS - - _TO ZOILUS_ - - With industry I spread your praise, - With equal, you my censure blaze; - But, Zoilus, all in vain we do-- - The world nor credits me nor you. - - - _ON LEONORA_ - - There’s a lie on thy cheek in its roses, - A lie echoed back by thy glass. - Thy necklace on greenhorns imposes, - And the ring on thy finger is brass. - Yet thy tongue, I affirm, without giving an inch back, - Outdoes the sham jewels, rouge, mirror, and pinchbeck. - - - JOHANNES SECUNDUS - - _ON CHARINUS, THE HUSBAND OF AN UGLY WIFE_ - - Your wife’s possest of such a face and mind, - So charming that, and this so soft and kind, - So smooth her forehead, and her voice so sweet, - Her words so tender and her dress so neat; - That would kind Jove, whence man all good derives, - In wondrous bounty send me three such wives, - Dear happy husband, take it on my word, - To Pluto I’d give two, to take the third. - - - THEODORUS BEZA - - In age, youth, and manhood, three wives have I tried, - Whose qualities rare all my wants have supplied. - The first, goaded on by the ardour of youth, - I woo’d for the sake of her person, forsooth: - The second I took for the sake of her purse; - And the third--for what reason? I wanted a nurse. - - - PAULUS THOMAS - - _ON CELSUS_ - - With self love Celsus burns: is he not blest? - For thus without a rival he may rest. - - - STEPHANUS PASCHASIUS - - _MARRIED LIFE_ - - No day, no hour, no moment, is my house - Free from the clamour of my scolding spouse! - My servants all are rogues; and so am I, - Unless, for quiet’s sake, I join the cry. - I aim, in all her freaks, my wife to please; - I wage domestic war, in hopes of ease. - I vain the hopes! and my fond bosom bleeds, - To feel how soon to peace mad strife succeeds: - To find, with servants jarring, or my wife, - The worst of lawsuits is a married life. - - - JOHANNES AUDŒMUS - - _TO A FRIEND IN DISTRESS_ - - I wish thy lot, now bad, still worse, my friend; - For when at worst, they say, things always mend. - - - _ADVICE TO PONTICUS_ - - Thou nothing giv’st, but dying wilt: then die: - He giveth twice, who giveth speedily. - - - BALTHASAR BONIFACIUS - - _DANGEROUS LOVE_ - - All whom I love die young; Zoilus, I’ll try, - Tho’ loath’d, to love thee--that thou too may’st die. - -From Bhartrihari, an Indian philosopher who flourished about the ninth -century, we select the following cynical paragraphs. - - * * * * * - -I believed that one woman was devoted to me, but she is now attracted -by another man, and another man takes pleasure in her, while a second -woman interests herself in me. Curses on them both, and on the god of -love, and on the other woman, and on myself. - - * * * * * - -The fundamentally ignorant man is easily led, and the wise man still -more easily; but not even the Almighty Himself can exercise any -influence on the smatterer. - - * * * * * - -A man may tear the pearl from between the teeth of the crocodile; he -may steer his ship over the roughest seas; he may twine a serpent round -his brow like a laurel; but he cannot convince a foolish and stubborn -opponent. - - * * * * * - -A man may squeeze oil from sand; he may slake his thirst from the well -in a mirage; he may even obtain possession of a hare’s horn; but he -cannot convince a foolish and stubborn opponent. - - * * * * * - -A dog will eat with delight the most noisome and decaying bones, and -will pay no attention even if the ruler of the gods stands before -him--and in like manner a mean man takes no heed of the worthlessness -of his belongings. - - * * * * * - -Our nobility of birth may pass away; our virtues may fall into decay: -our moral character may perish as if thrown over a precipice: our -family may be burnt to ashes, and a thunderbolt may dash away our power -like an enemy: let us keep a firm grip on our money, for without this -the whole assembly of virtues are but as blades of glass. - - * * * * * - -Let a man be wealthy, and he shall be quite wise, learned in the sacred -writings and of good birth; virtuous, handsome and eloquent. Gold -attracts all the virtues to itself. - -The same portion of the sky that forms a circle round the moon by night -also forms a circle round the sun by day How great is the labour of -both! - - * * * * * - -A sour heart; a face hardened with inward pride and a nature as -difficult to penetrate as the narrowest of mountain passes--these -things are known to be characteristic of women: their mind is known -by the wise to be as changeable as the drop of dew on the lotus leaf. -Faults develop in a woman as she grows up, exactly as poisonous -branches sprout from the creeper. - - * * * * * - -The beautiful features of a woman are praised by the poets--her breasts -are compared to pots of gold: her face to the shining moon, and her -hips to the forehead of an elephant: nevertheless the beauty of a woman -merits no praise. - - * * * * * - -From _The Baharistan_, the work of Jami, a Persian poet and -philosopher. - - * * * * * - -Bahlúl being asked to count the fools of Basrah, replied: “They are -without the confines of computation. If you ask me, I will count the -wise men, for they are no more than a limited few.” - - * * * * * - -A learned man being annoyed while writing a letter to one of his -confidential friends, at the conduct of a person who, seated at his -side, glanced out of the corner of his eye at his writing, wrote: “Had -not a hireling thief been seated at my side and engaged in reading my -letter I should have written to thee all my secrets.” The man said: -“By God, my lord, I have neither read nor even looked at thy letter.” -“Fool!” exclaimed the other; “how then canst thou say what thou now -sayest?” - -A mendicant once coming to beg something at the door of a house, the -master of it called out to him from the interior: “Pray excuse me: the -women of the house are not here.” The beggar retorted: “I wish for a -morsel of bread, not to embrace the women of the house.” - - * * * * * - -A certain person made a claim of ten dirams on Júhí. The judge -enquired: “Hast thou any testimony to offer?” On the answer being in -the negative he continued: “Shall I put him on his oath?” “Of what -value is _his_ oath?” said the man in reply. “O judge of the -Faithful,” then proposed Júhí in his turn, “there lives in my quarter -of the town an Imám, temperate, truthful and beneficent, send for him -and put him on his oath instead of me, that this man’s mind may be -easy.” - - * * * * * - - A poet read me once a wretched ode-- - Verse of the kind where “alif” finds no place. - I said the kind of verse that _thou_ should’st make, - Is that in which _no_ letter we could trace. - - * * * * * - -Jáhiz relates: “I never experienced so much shame as this event -occasioned me. One day a woman took my hand and led me to the shop of -a master metal founder, saying to him: ‘Be it thus formed.’ I being -puzzled to know what this conduct signified, questioned the master, who -in reply said: ‘She had ordered me to make her a figure in the form -of Satan. When I told her that I did not know in what semblance to -make it, she brought thee, as thou knowest, and said: ‘Make it in this -semblance.’” - - * * * * * - -The same learned man, too, gives us this relation: “As I was once -standing in the street, in conversation with a friend, a woman came and -standing opposite me, gazed in my face. When her staring had exceeded -all bounds, I said to my slave: ‘Go to that woman and ask her what she -seeks.’ The slave returning to me thus reported her answer: ‘I wished -to inflict some punishment on my eyes which had committed a great -fault, and could find none more severe for them than the sight of thy -ugly face.’” - -A person who perceived an ugly man asking pardon for his sins, and -praying for deliverance from the fire of hell, said to him: “Wherefore, -O friend, with such a countenance as thou hast, would’st thou cheat -hell, and give such a face reluctantly to the fire?” - - * * * * * - -An assembly of people being seated together, and engaged in discussing -the merits and defects of men, one of them observed: “Whoever has not -two seeing eyes is but half a man; and whoever has not in his house a -beautiful bride is but half a man; finally he who cannot swim in the -sea is but half a man.” A blind man in the company who had no wife, and -could not swim, called out to him: “O my dear friend, thou hast laid -down an extraordinary principle, and cast me so far out of the circle -of manhood, that still half a man is required before I can take the -name of one who is no man.” - - * * * * * - -A Beduin having lost a camel, made an oath that when he found it he -would sell it for one diram. When however he found it, repenting of -his oath, he tied a cat to its neck, and called out: “Who will buy -the camel for one diram and the cat for a hundred dirams; but both -together, as I will not part them.” “How cheap,” said a person who had -arrived there, “would be this camel, had it not this collar attached to -its neck!” - - * * * * * - -A Beduin who had lost a camel, proclaimed: “Whoever brings me my camel -shall have two camels as a reward.” “Out, man!” said they to him; “what -kind of business is this? Is the whole ass load of less value than -a small additional bundle laid upon it?” “You have this excuse for -your words,” replied he, “that you have never tasted the pleasure of -finding, and the sweetness of recovering what has been lost.” - - * * * * * - -A Khalíf was partaking of food with an Arab from the desert. During -the repast as his glance fell upon the Arab’s portion he saw in it a -hair, and said: “O Arab, take that hair out of thy food.” The Arab -exclaimed: “It is impossible to eat at the table of one who looks so at -his guest’s portion as to perceive a hair in it.” Then withdrawing his -hand he swore never again to partake of food at his table. - - * * * * * - -A weaver left a deposit in the house of a learned man. After a few -days had elapsed, finding some necessity for it, he paid him a visit -and found him seated at the door of his house giving instruction to a -number of pupils who were standing in a row before him. “O Professor,” -said the man, “I am in want of the deposit which I left.” “Be seated -a moment,” replied the other, “until I have finished the lesson.” The -weaver sat down, but the lesson lasted a long time and he was pressed -for time. Now that learned man had a habit when giving lessons, of -wagging his head, and the weaver seeing this, and fancying that to -give a lesson was merely to wag the head, said: “Rise up, O Professor, -and make me thy deputy till thy return: let me wag my head in place -of thee, and do thou bring out my deposit, for I am in a hurry.” The -learned man, hearing this, laughed and said: - - * * * * * - - In public halls the city jurist boasts - That all, obscure or clear, to him is known; - But if thou ask him aught, his answer mark:-- - A gesture with the hand or head alone. - - * * * * * - -From a collection called _The Pleasantries of Cogia Nasr Eddin -Effendi_, the typical noodle of the Turks. - -Cogia Effendi one day went into a garden, pulled up some carrots and -turnips and other kinds of vegetables, which he found, putting some -into a sack and some into his bosom; suddenly the gardener coming up, -laid hold of him, and said, “What are you seeking here?” The Cogia, -being in great consternation, not finding any other reply, answered, -“For some days past a great wind has been blowing, and that wind blew -me hither.” “But who pulled up these vegetables,” said the gardener? -“As the wind blew very violently,” replied the Cogia, “it cast me here -and there, and whatever I laid hold of in the hope of saving myself -remained in my hands.” “Ah,” said the gardener, “but who filled the -sack with them?” “Well,” said the Cogia, “that is the very question I -was about to ask myself when you came up.” - - * * * * * - -One day Cogia Nasr Eddin Effendi said, “O Mussulmen, give thanks to God -Most High that He did not give the camel wings; for, had He given them, -they would have perched upon your houses and chimneys, and have caused -them to tumble upon your heads.” - - * * * * * - -One day the, Cogia saw a great many ducks playing on the top of a -fountain. The Cogia, running towards them, said, “I’ll catch you”; -whereupon they all rose up and took to flight. The Cogia, taking a -little bread in his hand, sat down on the side of the fountain, and -crumbling the bread in the fountain, fell to eating. A person coming -up, said, “What are you eating?” “Duck broth,” replied the Cogia. - - * * * * * - -One day the Cogia went with Cheragh Ahmed to the den of a wolf, in -order to see the cubs. Said the Cogia to Ahmed: “Do you go in.” Ahmed -did so. The old wolf was abroad, but presently returning, tried to get -into the cave to its young. When it was about half way in the Cogia -seized hard hold of it by the tail. The wolf in its struggles cast a -quantity of dust into the eyes of Ahmed. “Hallo, Cogia,” he cried, -“What does this dust mean.” “If the wolf’s tail breaks,” said the -Cogia, “You’ll soon see what the dust means.” - - * * * * * - -One day a thief got into the Cogia’s house. Cries his wife, “O Cogia, -there is a thief in the house.” “Don’t make any disturbance,” says the -Cogia. “I wish to God that he may find something, so that I may take it -from him.” - - * * * * * - -Cogia Effendi, every time he returned to his house, was in the habit -of bringing a piece of liver, which his wife always gave to a common -woman, placing before the Cogia leavened patties to eat when he came -home in the evening. One day the Cogia said, “O wife, every day I bring -home a liver: where do they all go to?” “The cat runs away with all -of them,” replied the wife. Therefore the Cogia getting up, put his -hatchet in the trunk and locked it up. Says his wife to the Cogia, -“For fear of whom do you lock up the hatchet?” “For fear of the cat,” -replied the Cogia. “What should the cat do with the hatchet?” said the -wife. “Why,” replied the Cogia, “as he takes a fancy to the liver, -which costs two aspres, is it not likely that he will take a fancy to -the hatchet, which costs four?” - - * * * * * - -One day the Cogia, being out on a journey, encamped along with a -caravan, and tied up his horse along with the others. When it was -morning the Cogia could not find his horse amongst the rest, not -knowing how to distinguish it; forthwith taking a bow and arrow in his -hand, he said, “Men, men, I have lost my horse.” Every one laughing, -took his own horse; and the Cogia looking, saw a horse which he -instantly knew to be his own. Forthwith placing his right foot in the -stirrup, he mounted the horse, so that his face looked to the horse’s -tail. “O Cogia,” said they, “why do you mount the horse the wrong way?” -“It is not my fault,” said he, “but the horse’s, for the horse is -left-handed.” - - * * * * * - -One day as the Cogia was travelling in the Derbend he met a shepherd. -Said the shepherd to the Cogia. “Art thou a faquir?” “Yes,” said the -Cogia. Said the shepherd, “See these seven men who are lying here, they -were men like you whom I killed because they could not answer questions -which I asked. Now, in the first place let us come to an understanding; -if you can answer my questions let us hold discourse, if not, let us -say nothing.” Says the Cogia, “What may your questions be?” Said the -shepherd, “The moon, when it is new, is small, afterwards it increases, -until it looks like a wheel; after the fifteenth, it diminishes, and -does not remain; then again, there is a little one, of the size of -Hilal, which does remain. Now what becomes of the old moons?” Says -the Cogia. “How is it that you don’t know a thing like that? They take -those old moons and make lightning of them, have you not seen them when -the heaven thunders, glittering like so many swords?” “Bravo, Fakeer,” -said the shepherd. “Well art thou acquainted with the matter, I had -come to the same conclusion myself.” - - * * * * * - -One day the Cogia’s wife, in order to plague the Cogia, boiled some -broth exceedingly hot, brought it into the room and placed it on the -table. The wife then, forgetting that it was hot, took a spoon and -put some into her mouth, and, scalding herself, began to shed tears. -“O, wife,” said the Cogia, “what is the matter with you; is the broth -hot?” “Dear Efendy,” said the wife, “my mother, who is now dead loved -broth very much; I thought of that, and wept on her account.” The Cogia -thinking that what she said was truth, took a spoonful of the broth and -burning his mouth began to cry and bellow. “What is the matter with -you,” said his wife; “why do you cry?” Said the Cogia, “You cry because -your mother is gone, but I cry because her daughter is here.” - - * * * * * - -One day a man came to the house of the Cogia and asked him to lend him -his ass. “He is not at home,” replied the Cogia. But it so happened -that the ass began to bray within. “O Cogia Efendy,” said the man, “you -say that the ass is not at home, and there he is braying within.” “What -a strange fellow you are!” said the Cogia. “You believe the ass, but -will not believe a grey bearded man like me.” - - * * * * * - -One day the Cogia roasted a goose, and set out in order to carry it to -the Emperor. On the way, feeling very hungry, he cut off one leg and -ate it. Coming into the presence of the Emperor, he placed the goose -before him. On seeing it, Tamerlank said to himself, “The Cogia is -making game of me,” and was very angry, and demanded, “How happens it -that this goose has but one foot?” Said the Cogia, “In our country all -the geese have only one foot. If you disbelieve me, look at the geese -by the side of that fountain.” Now at that time there was a flock of -geese by the rim of the fountain, all of whom were standing on one leg. -Timour instantly ordered that all the drummers should at once play up; -the drummers began to strike with their sticks, and forthwith all the -geese stood on both legs. On Timour saying, “Don’t you see that they -have two legs?” the Cogia replied, “If you keep up that drumming you -yourself will presently have four.” - - * * * * * - -One day the Cogia’s wife, having washed the Cogia’s kaftan, hung it -upon a tree to dry; the Cogia going out saw, as he supposed, a man -standing in the tree with his arms stretched out. Says the Cogia to his -wife, “O wife, go and fetch me my bow and arrow.” His wife fetched and -brought them to him; the Cogia taking an arrow, shot it and pierced the -kaftan and stretched it on the ground; then returning, he made fast -his door and lay down to sleep. Going out in the morning he saw that -what he had shot was his own kaftan; thereupon, sitting down, he cried -aloud, “O God, be thanked; if I had been in it I should have certainly -been killed.” - - * * * * * - -One day as the Cogia was going to his house, he met a number of -students, and said to them, “Gentlemen, pray this night come to our -house and taste a sup of the old father’s broth.” “Very good,” said the -students, and following the Cogia, came to the house. “Pray enter,” -said he, and brought them into the house, then going up to where his -wife was, “O wife,” said he, “I have brought some travellers that we -may give them a cup of broth.” “O master,” said his wife, “is there -oil in the house or rice, or have you brought any that you wish to -have broth?” “Bless me,” said the Cogia, “give me the broth pan,” and -snatching it up, he forthwith ran to where the students were, and -exclaimed, “Pray, pardon me gentlemen, but had there been oil or rice -in our house, this is the pan in which I would have served the broth up -to you.” - -One day the Cogia going into a person’s garden climbed up into an -apricot tree and began to eat the apricots. The master coming said, -“Cogia, what are you doing here?” “Dear me,” said the Cogia, “don’t -you see that I am a nightingale sitting in the apricot tree?” Said the -gardener, “Let me hear you sing.” The Cogia began to warble. Whereupon -the other fell to laughing, and said: “Do you call that singing?” “I am -a Persian nightingale,” said the Cogia, “and Persian nightingales sing -in this manner.” - - * * * * * - -From _The Book of Laughable Stories_, collected by Gregory Bar -Hebræus in the thirteenth century. The collection includes some seven -hundred stories taken from the literary products of all the Oriental -countries available at that time. - - * * * * * - -Bazarjamhir said, “When thou dost not know which of two things is the -better for thee [to do], take counsel with thy wife and do the opposite -of that which she saith, for she will only counsel [thee to do] the -things which are injurious to thee.” - -A certain woman saw Socrates as they were carrying him along to crucify -him, and she wept and said, “Woe is me, for they are about to slay thee -without having committed any offence.” And Socrates made answer unto -her, saying, “O foolish woman, wouldst thou have me also commit some -crime that I might be punished like a criminal?” - - * * * * * - -Alexander [the Great] saw among the soldiers of his army a man called -Alexander who continually took to flight in the time of war, and he -said to him, “It is said that upon the ring of Pythagoras there was -written, ‘The evil which is not perpetual is better than the good which -is not perpetual.’” - - * * * * * - -It is said that upon the ring of Pythagoras there was written, “The -evil which is not perpetual is better than the good which is not -perpetual.” - -It was said to Socrates, “Which of the irrational animals is not -beautiful?” And he replied, “Woman,” referring to her folly. - - * * * * * - -Another of the sages said, “The members of a man’s household are the -moth of his money.” - - * * * * * - -A certain man who had once been a painter left off painting and became -a physician. And when it was said to him, “Why hast thou done this?” he -replied, “The errors [made] in painting [all] eyes see and scrutinize; -but the mistakes of the healing art the ground covereth.” - - * * * * * - -Another king was asked by his sages, “To what limit hath thine -understanding reached?” And he replied, “To the extent that I believe -no man, neither do I put any confidence in any man whatsoever.” - - * * * * * - -Another king said, “If men only knew how pleasant to me it is to -forgive faults there is not one of them who would not commit them.” - - * * * * * - -A poet said unto a certain avaricious man, “Why dost thou never bid me -to a feast with thee?” He replied to him, “Because thou eatest very -heartily indeed, besides thou swallowest so hurriedly; and whilst thou -art still eating one morsel thou art getting ready for the next.” The -poet said to him, “What wouldst thou have then? Wouldst thou have me -whilst I am eating one morsel to stand up and bow the knee, and then -take another?” - - * * * * * - -Another sage said, “I hold every man who saith that he hateth riches to -be a liar until he establisheth a sure proof thereof from what he hath -gathered together, and having established his belief it is, at the same -time, quite certain that he is a fool!” - - * * * * * - -Another miser whilst quarreling violently with his neighbour was asked -by a certain man, “Why art thou fighting with him?” He replied to him, -“I had eaten a roasted head, and I threw the bones outside my door, so -that my friends might rejoice and mine enemies be sorry when they saw -in what a luxurious manner I was living; and this fellow rose up and -took the bones and threw them before his own door.” - - * * * * * - -Another poet was questioned by a man concerning a certain miser, -saying, “Who eateth with him at his table?” and the poet replied, -“Flies.” - - * * * * * - -To a certain comedian it was said, “When a cock riseth up in the early -morning hours, why doth he hold one foot in the air?” He replied, “If -he should lift up both feet together he would fall down.” - - * * * * * - -Another actor went into his house and found a sieve laid upon his -couch, and he went and hung himself up on the peg in the wall. His wife -said to him, “What is this? Art thou possessed of a devil?” And he -said to her, “Nay, but when I saw the sieve in my place, I went to its -place.” - - * * * * * - -Another fool had two hunting dogs, one black and the other white. And -the governor said to him, “Give me one of them.” The man said to him, -“Which of them dost thou want?” and the governor said, “The black one.” -The man said, “The black one I love more than the white,” and the -governor replied, “Then give me the white one.” And the foolish man -said to him, “The white one I love more than both put together.” - - * * * * * - -Another fool said, “My father went twice to Jerusalem, and there did he -die and was buried, but I do not know which time he died, whether it -was during the first visit or the last.” - - * * * * * - -When another fool was told, “Thy ass is stolen,” he said, “Blessed be -God that I was not upon him.” - -Another silly man buried some zûzê coins in the plain, and made a -fragment of a cloud a mark of the place where it was. And some days -after he came to carry away the money, but could not find the place to -do so, and he said, “Consider now; the zûzê were in the ground, and -they must have been carried away by some people. For who can steal the -cloud which is in the sky? And what arm could reach there unto? This -matter is one worthy to be wondered at.” - - * * * * * - -Another simpleton was asked, “How many days’ journey is it between -Aleppo and Damascus?” and he replied, “Twelve; six to go and six to -come back.” - - * * * * * - -Another silly man having gone on a journey to carry on his trade wrote -to his father, saying, “I have been ill with a very grievous sickness, -and if any one else had been in my place he would not have been able to -live.” And his father made him answer, saying, “Believe me, my son, if -thou hadst died thou wouldst have grieved me sadly, and I would never -have spoken to thee again in the whole course of my life.” - - * * * * * - -A certain lunatic put on a skin cloak with the hairy side outwards, -and when people asked him why he did so, he replied, “If God had known -that it was better to have the hairy side of the skin cloak inwards, He -would not have created the wool on the outside of the sheep.” - - * * * * * - -Another fool owned a house together with some other folk, and he said -one day, “I want to sell the half of it which is my share and buy the -other half, so that the whole building may be mine.” - - * * * * * - -From earliest times the stupid or blundering fellow has been the butt -of his comrades’ shafts of wit or sarcasm. - -The feeling of superiority, so delightful to the human mind, found easy -expression in jeering at the discomfiture of the noodle. - -More often than not, noodle stories are told of residents of some -particular locality or district, whose people are looked upon as -simpletons. Doubtless this originally meant merely country people, who -were provincial or outlandish compared to the city bred. - -But as the Greeks chose Bœotia for their noodle colony and the Persians -guyed the people of Emessa, so each country has had a location or a -community for its laughing stock down to the Gothamites of the English. - -As a rule the same noodle stories are found in many languages, and only -an exhaustive study of comparative folk lore can adequately consider -the various tales. - -As an instance, there is the story, of Eastern origin, that may be -found in the booby tales of all nations. It has come down in late years -in the form of a play, called in a German version, “Der Tisch Ist -Gedeckt” and in an English form, “The Obstinate Family.” - -In the Arabian tale, - -A blockhead, having married his pretty cousin, gave the customary feast -to their relations and friends. When the festivities were over, he -conducted his guests to the door, and from absence of mind neglected -to shut it before returning to his wife. “Dear cousin,” said his wife -to him when they were alone, “go and shut the street door.” “It would -be strange indeed,” he replied, “if I did such a thing. Am I just made -a bridegroom, clothed in silk, wearing a shawl and a dagger set with -diamonds, and am I to go and shut the door? Why, my dear, you are -crazy. Go and shut it yourself.” “Oh, indeed!” exclaimed the wife. -“Am I, young, robed in a dress, with lace and precious stones--am I -to go and shut the street door? No, indeed! It is you who are become -crazy, and not I. Come, let us make a bargain,” she continued; “and -let the first who speaks go and fasten the door.” “Agreed,” said the -husband, and immediately he became mute, and the wife too was silent, -while they both sat down, dressed as they were in their nuptial -attire, looking at each other and seated on opposite sofas. Thus they -remained for two hours. Some thieves happened to pass by, and seeing -the door open, entered and laid hold of whatever came to their hands. -The silent couple heard footsteps in the house, but opened not their -mouths. The thieves came into the room and saw them seated motionless -and apparently indifferent to all that might take place. They continued -their pillage, therefore, collecting together everything valuable, and -even dragging away the carpets from beneath them; they laid hands on -the noodle and his wife, taking from their persons every article of -jewellery, while they, in fear of losing the wager, said not a word. -Having thus cleared the house, the thieves departed quietly, but the -pair continued to sit, uttering not a syllable. Towards morning a -police officer came past on his tour of inspection, and seeing the door -open, walked in. After searching all the rooms and finding no person, -he entered their apartment, and inquired the meaning of what he saw. -Neither of them would condescend to reply. The officer became angry, -and ordered their heads to be cut off. The executioner’s sword was -about to perform its office, when the wife cried out, “Sir, he is my -husband. Do not kill him!” “Oh, oh,” exclaimed the husband, overjoyed -and clapping his hands, “you have lost the wager; go and shut the -door.” He then explained the whole affair to the police officer, who -shrugged his shoulders and went away. - -Another story, known in a score of variants is found in a collection of -tales of the Kabaïl, Algeria, to this effect: - -The mother of a youth of the Beni Jennad clan gave him a hundred reals -to buy a mule; so he went to market, and on his way met a man carrying -a water melon for sale. “How much for the melon?” he asks. “What will -you give?” says the man. “I have only got a hundred reals,” answered -the booby; “had I more, you should have it.” “Well,” rejoined the man, -“I’ll take them.” Then the youth took the melon and handed over the -money. “But tell me,” says he, “will its young one be as green as it -is?” “Doubtless,” answered the man, “it will be green.” As the booby -was going home, he allowed the melon to roll down a slope before him. -It burst on its way, when up started a frightened hare. “Go to my -house, young one,” he shouted. “Surely a green animal has come out of -it.” And when he got home, he inquired of his mother if the young one -had arrived. - -Other stories of boobies or simpletons follow, taken here and there -from the enormous mass of humorous literature on this theme. - -Yet noodles are not always witless fools. - -The principle of the humor in such tales is merely and only the -superiority complex, that loves to laugh good naturedly or with a -contemptuous tolerance at the speech or actions of those less clever -than itself. It is the attitude of the cognoscenti toward, - - “The lady from the provinces, who dresses like a guy, - Who doesn’t think she waltzes,--but would rather like to try,” - -as W. S. Gilbert puts it. - -One day some men were walking by the riverside, and came to a place -where the contrary currents caused the water to boil as in a whirlpool. -“See how the water boils!” says one. “If we had plenty of oatmeal,” -says another, “we might make enough porridge to serve all the village -for a month.” So it was resolved that part of them should go to the -village and fetch their oatmeal, which was soon brought and thrown into -the river. But there presently arose the question of how they were to -know when the porridge was ready. This difficulty was overcome by the -offer of one of the company to jump in, and it was agreed that if he -found it ready for use, he should signify the same to his companions. -The man jumped in, and found the water deeper than he expected. Thrice -he rose to the surface, but said nothing. The others, impatient at his -remaining so long silent, and seeing him smack his lips, took this for -an avowal that the porridge was good, and so they all jumped in after -him and were drowned. - -A poor old woman used to beg her food by day and cook it at night. -Half of the food she would eat in the morning, and the other half in -the evening. After a while a cat got to know of this arrangement, and -came and ate the meal for her. The old woman was very patient, but at -last could no longer endure the cat’s impudence, and so she laid hold -of it. She argued with herself as to whether she should kill it or -not. “If I slay it,” she thought, “it will be a sin; but if I keep it -alive, it will be to my heavy loss.” So she determined only to punish -it. She procured some cotton wool and some oil, and soaking the one in -the other, tied it on to the cat’s tail and then set it on fire. Away -rushed the cat across the yard, up the side of the window, and on to -the roof, where its flaming tail ignited the thatch and set the whole -house on fire. The flames soon spread to other houses, and the whole -village was destroyed. - -Not a few of the _Bizarrures_ of the Sieur Gaulard are the -prototypes of bulls and foolish sayings of the typical Irishman, -which go their ceaseless rounds in popular periodicals, and are even -audaciously reproduced as original in our “comic” journals. To cite -some examples: - - * * * * * - -A friend one day told M. Gaulard that the Dean of Besançon was dead. -“Believe it not,” said he, “for had it been so he would have told me -himself, since he writes to me about everything.” - -M. Gaulard asked his secretary one evening what hour it was. “Sir,” -replied the secretary, “I cannot tell you by the dial, because the sun -is set.” “Well,” quoth M. Gaulard, “and can you not see by the candle?” - - * * * * * - -On another occasion the Sieur called from his bed to a servant desiring -him to see if it was daylight yet. “There is no sign of daylight,” -said the servant. “I do not wonder,” rejoined the Sieur, “that thou -canst not see day, great fool as thou art. Take a candle and look with -it out at the window, and thou shalt see whether it be day or not.” - - * * * * * - -In a strange house, the Sieur found the walls of his bed chamber full -of great holes. “This,” exclaimed he in a rage, “is the cursedest -chamber in all the world. One may see day all the night through.” - - * * * * * - -Travelling in the country, his man, to gain the fairest way, rode -through a field sowed with pease, upon which M. Gaulard cried to him, -“Thou knave, wilt thou burn my horse’s feet? Dost thou not know that -about six weeks ago I burned my mouth with eating pease, they were so -hot?” - - * * * * * - -A poor man complained to him that he had had a horse stolen from him. -“Why did you not mark his visage,” asked M. Gaulard, “and the clothes -he wore?” “Sir,” said the man, “I was not there when he was stolen.” -Quoth the Sieur, “You should have left somebody to ask him his name, -and in what place he resided.” - - * * * * * - -M. Gaulard felt the sun so hot in the midst of a field at noontide in -August that he asked of those about him, “What means the sun to be -so hot? How should it not keep its heat till winter, when it is cold -weather?” - - * * * * * - -A proctor, discoursing with M. Gaulard, told him that a dumb, deaf, or -blind man could not make a will but with certain additional forms. “I -pray you,” said the Sieur, “give me that in writing, that I may send it -to a cousin of mine who is lame.” - - * * * * * - -One day a friend visited the Sieur and found him asleep in his chair. -“I slept,” said he, “only to avoid idleness; for I must always be doing -something.” - -The Abbé of Poupet complained to him that the moles had spoiled a fine -meadow, and he could find no remedy for them. “Why, cousin,” said M. -Gaulard, “it is but paving your meadow, and the moles will no more -trouble you.” - - * * * * * - -M. Gaulard had a lackey belonging to Auvergne, who robbed him of twelve -crowns and ran away, at which he was very angry, and said he would have -nothing that came from that country. So he ordered all that was from -Auvergne to be cast out of the house, even his mule; and to make the -animal more ashamed, he caused his servants to take off its shoes and -its saddle and bridle. - - * * * * * - -Among the cases decided by a Turkish Kází, two men came before him -one of whom complained that the other had almost bit his ear off. The -accused denied this, and declared that the fellow had bit his own -ear. After pondering the matter for some time, the judge told them to -come again two hours later. Then he went into his private room, and -attempted to bring his ear and his mouth together; but all he did was -to fall backwards and break his head. Wrapping a cloth round his head, -he returned to court, and the two men coming in again presently, he -thus decided the question: “No man can bite his own ear, but in trying -to do so he may fall down and break his head.” - - * * * * * - -The typical noodle of the Turks, the Khoja Nasru ’d-Dín, quoted above -as Cogia Nasr Eddin Effendi, is said to have been a subject of the -independent prince of Karaman, at whose capital, Konya, he resided, and -he is represented as a contemporary of Timúr (Tamerlane), in the middle -of the fourteenth century. The pleasantries which are ascribed to him -are for the most part common to all countries, but some are probably of -genuine Turkish origin. To cite a few specimens: The Khoja’s wife said -to him one day, “Make me a present of a kerchief of red Yemen silk, to -put on my head.” The Khoja stretched out his arms and said, “Like that? -Is that large enough?” On her replying in the affirmative he ran off -to the bazaar, with his arms still stretched out, and meeting a man on -the road, he bawled to him, “Look where you are going, O man, or you -will cause me to lose my measure!” - - * * * * * - -One evening the Khoja went to the well to draw water, and seeing the -moon reflected in the water, he exclaimed, “The moon has fallen into -the well; I must pull it out.” So he let down the rope and hook, and -the hook became fastened to a stone, whereupon he exerted all his -strength, and the rope broke, and he fell upon his back. Looking into -the sky, he saw the moon, and cried out joyfully, “Praise be to Allah! -I am sorely bruised, but the moon has got into its place again.” - - * * * * * - -The Chinese have a story of a lady who had been recently married, and -on the third day saw her husband returning home, so she slipped quietly -behind him and gave him a hearty kiss. The husband was annoyed, and -said she offended all propriety. “Pardon! pardon!” said she. “I did not -know it was you.” - - * * * * * - -Indian fiction abounds in stories of simpletons, and probably the -oldest extant drolleries of the Gothamite type are found in the -_J[.a]takas_, or Buddhist Birth stories. Assuredly they were own -brothers to our mad men of Gotham, the Indian villagers who, being -pestered by mosquitoes when at work in the forest, bravely resolved, -according to _J[.a]taka_ 44, to take their bows and arrows and -other weapons and make war upon the troublesome insects until they -had shot dead or cut in pieces every one; but in trying to shoot the -mosquitoes they only shot, struck, and injured one another. And nothing -more foolish is recorded of the Schildburgers than Somadeva relates, -in his _Kathá Sarit Ságara_, of the simpletons who cut down the -palm-trees: Being required to furnish the king with a certain quantity -of dates, and perceiving that it was very easy to gather the dates of -a palm which had fallen down of itself, they set to work and cut down -all the date-palms in their village, and having gathered from them -their whole crop of dates, they raised them up and planted them again, -thinking they would grow. - - * * * * * - -In Málava there were two Bráham brothers, and the wealth inherited -from their father was left jointly between them. And while they were -dividing that wealth they quarrelled about one having too little and -the other having too much, and they made a teacher learned in the -Vedas arbitrator, and he said to them, “You must divide everything -your father left into two halves, so that you may not quarrel about -the inequality of the division.” When the two fools heard this, they -divided every single thing into two equal parts--house, beds, in fact, -all their property, including their cattle. - - * * * * * - -Henry Stephens (Henri Estienne), in the Introduction to his _Apology -for Herodotus_, relates some very amusing noodle-stories, such as of -him who, burning his shins before the fire, and not having wit enough -to go back from it, sent for masons to remove the chimney; of the fool -who ate the doctor’s prescription, because he was told to “take it”; of -another wittol who, having seen one spit upon iron to try whether it -was hot, did likewise with his porridge; and, best of all, he tells of -a fellow who was hit on the back with a stone as he rode upon his mule, -and cursed the animal for kicking him. This last exquisite jest has its -analogue in that of the Irishman who was riding on an ass one fine day, -when the beast, by kicking at the flies that annoyed him, got one of -its hind feet entangled in the stirrup, whereupon the rider dismounted, -saying, “Faith, if you’re going to get up, it’s time I was getting -down.” - - * * * * * - -The poet Ovid alludes to the story of Ino persuading the women of the -country to roast the wheat before it was sown, which may have come -to India through the Greeks, since we are told in the _Kathá Sarit -S[.a]gara_ of a foolish villager who one day roasted some sesame -seeds, and finding them nice to eat, he sowed a large quantity of -roasted seeds, hoping that similar ones would come up. The story -also occurs in Coelho’s _Contes Portuguezes_, and is probably of -Buddhistic origin. An analogous story is told of an Irishman who gave -his hens hot water, in order that they should lay boiled eggs! - - * * * * * - -Few folk-tales are more widely diffused than that of the man who set -out in quest of as great noodles as those of his own household. The -details may be varied more or less, but the fundamental outline is -identical, wherever the story is found; and, whether it be an instance -of the transmission of popular tales from one country to another, or -one of those “primitive fictions” which are said to be the common -heritage of the Aryans, its independent development by different -nations and in different ages cannot be reasonably maintained. - -Thus, in one Gaelic version of this diverting story--in which our old -friends the Gothamites reappear on the scene to enact their unconscious -drolleries--a lad marries a farmer’s daughter, and one day while they -are all busily engaged in peat cutting, she is sent to the house to -fetch the dinner. On entering the house, she perceives the speckled -pony’s packsaddle hanging from the roof, and says to herself, “Oh, if -that packsaddle were to fall and kill me, what should I do?” and here -she began to cry, until her mother, wondering what could be detaining -her, comes, when she tells the old woman the cause of her grief, -whereupon the mother, in her turn, begins to cry, and when the old man -next comes to see what is the matter with his wife and daughter, and -is informed about the speckled pony’s packsaddle, he too, “mingles his -tears” with theirs. At last the young husband arrives, and finding the -trio of noodles thus grieving at an imaginary misfortune, he there -and then leaves them, declaring his purpose not to return until he -has found three as great fools as themselves. In the course of his -travels he meets with some strange folks: men whose wives make them -believe whatever they please--one, that he is dead; another, that he is -clothed, when he is stark naked; a third, that he is not himself. He -meets with the twelve fishers who always miscounted their number; the -noodles who went to drown an eel in the sea; and a man trying to get -his cow on the roof of his house, in order that she might eat the grass -growing there. - - * * * * * - -In Russian variants the old parents of a youth named Lutonya weep over -the supposititious death of a potential grandchild, thinking how sad -it would have been if a log which the old woman had dropped had killed -that hypothetical infant. The parents’ grief appears to Lutonya so -uncalled for that he leaves the house, declaring he will not return -until he has met with people more foolish than they. He travels long -and far, and sees several foolish doings. In one place a horse is -being inserted into its collar by sheer force; in another, a woman is -fetching milk from the cellar a spoonful at a time; and in a third -place some carpenters are attempting to stretch a beam which is not -long enough, and Lutonya earns their gratitude by showing them how to -join a piece to it. - - * * * * * - -A well known English version is to this effect: There was a young man -who courted a farmer’s daughter, and one evening when he came to the -house she was sent to the cellar for beer. Seeing an axe stuck in a -beam above her head, she thought to herself, “Suppose I were married -and had a son, and he were to grow up, and be sent to this cellar for -beer, and this axe were to fall and kill him--oh, dear! oh dear!” and -there she sat crying and crying, while the beer flowed all over the -cellar floor, until her old father and mother come in succession and -blubber along with her about the hypothetical death of her imaginary -grown up son. The young man goes off in quest of three bigger fools, -and sees a woman hoisting a cow on to the roof of her cottage to -eat the grass that grew among the thatch, and to keep the animal -from falling off, she ties a rope round its neck, then goes into the -kitchen, secures at her waist the rope, which she had dropped down the -chimney, and presently the cow stumbles over the roof, and the woman -is pulled up the flue till she sticks half way. In an inn he sees a -man attempting to jump into his trousers--a favourite incident in this -class of stories; and farther along he meets with a party raking the -moon out of a pond. - -Another English variant relates that a young girl having been left -alone in the house, her mother finds her in tears when she comes home, -and asks the cause of her distress. “Oh,” says the girl, “while you -were away, a brick fell down the chimney, and I thought, if it had -fallen on me I might have been killed!” The only novel adventure which -the girl’s betrothed meets with, in his quest of three bigger fools, is -an old woman trying to drag an oven with a rope to the table where the -dough lay. - - * * * * * - -There is a Sicilian version in Pitrá’s collection, called _The -Peasant of Larcarà_, in which the bride’s mother imagines that her -daughter has a son who falls into the cistern. The groom--they are -not yet married--is disgusted, and sets out on his travels with no -fixed purpose of returning if he finds some fools greater than his -mother-in-law, as in the Venetian tale. The first fool he meets is a -mother, whose child, in playing the game called _nocciole_, tries -to get his hand out of the hole whilst his fist is full of stones. He -cannot, of course, and the mother thinks they will have to cut off -his hand. The traveller tells the child to drop the stones, and then -he draws out his hand easily enough. Next he finds a bride who cannot -enter the church because she is very tall and wears a high comb. The -difficulty is settled as in the former story. After a while he comes -to a woman who is spinning and drops her spindle. She calls out to the -pig, whose name is Tony, to pick it up for her. The pig does nothing -but grunt, and the woman in anger cries, “Well, you won’t pick it up? -May your mother die!” The traveller, who had overheard all this, takes -a piece of paper, which he folds up like a letter, and then knocks at -the door. “Who is there?” “Open the door, for I have a letter for you -from Tony’s mother, who is ill and wishes to see her son before she -dies.” The woman wonders that her imprecation has taken effect so soon, -and readily consents to Tony’s visit. Not only this, but she loads a -mule with everything necessary for the comfort of the body and soul of -the dying pig. The traveller leads away the mule with Tony, and returns -home so pleased with having found that the outside world contains so -many fools that he marries as he had first intended. - - * * * * * - -In other Italian versions, a man is trying to jump into his stockings; -another endeavours to put walnuts into a sack with a fork; and a woman -dips a knotted rope into a deep well, and then having drawn it up, -squeezes the water out of the knots into a pail. - - * * * * * - -Mediæval writers most frequently gave voice to short proverbs, maxims -or epigrams, but a longer story is this delightful one from the old -Folk tales of India. - - - SAN SHROE BU - - _ENFORCED GREATNESS_ - -Once upon a time there lived a very poor middle aged couple on the -outskirts of a great and magnificent city. Early in the morning the man -used to set out to the city and return home in the evening with a few -odd annas earned by picking up small jobs in the warehouses of wealthy -merchants. One fine morning, being lazier than usual, he remained in -bed with his eyes closed though fully awake, and furtively watched the -proceedings of his wife during her toilette. When she was completely -satisfied with her performance the man pretended to wake up as though -from a deep sleep and addressed his wife, “you know, my dear, of late I -have been feeling that some strange power has been granted to me by the -gracious nats who preside over our destinies. To illustrate my point, -you saw just now that I was fast asleep, and yet, would you believe it, -I know exactly what you were doing a little while ago from the time you -rose from your bed up till the present moment,” and proceeded to tell -her all she did at her toilette. As may be imagined, his wife was quite -astonished at this feat, and womanlike, she began to see in this power -the means to a profitable living. - -Just about this time the kingdom became greatly distracted by a -series of daring thefts which took place both by day and night. -All efforts made by the authorities to capture the culprits proved -useless. At length the king became seriously alarmed for the safety of -his treasures, and in order to afford better protection he redoubled -the guards round the palace. But in spite of all this precaution the -thieves entered the palace one night and succeeded in carrying away a -large quantity of gold, silver and precious stones. - -On the following morning the king issued a proclamation to the effect -that a thousand gold mohurs would be given as a reward to the person -who could either capture the thieves or restore the stolen property. So -without consulting her husband in whom she had absolute faith, she went -off to the palace and informed the king that her husband was a great -astrologer and that it would be quite easy for him to find the lost -treasures. The king’s heart was filled with gladness on receiving this -information. He told the good woman that if her husband could do all -that she promised, further honours and rewards would be heaped upon him. - -When the woman returned home she joyfully related to her husband the -details of her interview with the king. “What have you done, you silly -fool?” shouted the man with mingled astonishment and alarm. “The other -day when I spoke to you about my powers I was merely imposing upon you. -I am neither an astrologer nor a diviner. It will be impossible for me -to find the lost property. By your silly act you have not only brought -disgrace upon us but you have also imperilled our lives. I don’t care -what happens to you; I only know that I am going to commit suicide this -very day.” - -So saying he left the house and entered a dense forest with the -intention of cutting a stout creeper with which to hang himself. After -he got what he wanted he climbed up a big tree to tie one end of the -creeper to a branch. But while he was engaged in this act the notorious -thieves came to the foot of the very tree on which he was perched and -proceeded to divide the treasures which they stole from the palace. The -man on the top remained absolutely still and eagerly listened to all -that was going on down below. Apparently the division was not quite -satisfactory to every one, and as a result a terrible dispute arose -among them. For long hours they argued and abused each other without -being able to come to a settlement. At length seeing that the sun was -already declining they agreed to bury the treasure at the foot of the -tree and to return on the morrow for a further discussion relative to -their respective shares. - -As soon as they left the place the poor man came down from the tree and -ran home as fast as he could. “My dear wife, I know exactly where the -treasures are to be found. If you make haste and come along with me I -shall be able to remove the whole lot to our house.” So they hastened -together with baskets on their heads and reached the spot when darkness -had properly set in. They then dug up the treasures as quickly as they -could and conveyed them home. - -On the following day they went to the palace and restored the lost -treasures to the king. Greatly overjoyed at his good fortune the king -praised the man and marvelled at his rare knowledge. In addition to the -reward which he received, the man was forthwith appointed the chief -astrologer to the King with a handsome salary which placed him beyond -the dreams of avarice. - -While in the enjoyment of such honours and rewards the astrologer one -day thought to himself, “So far I have been very fortunate. My luck has -been phenomenally good. Everybody takes me to be a great man, though -actually I am not. I wonder for how long my luck will befriend me?” -From that time forward his mind became uneasy. He often sat up in bed -at nights dreading the future which should bring about his exposure -and disgrace. Every day he spoke to his wife about his false position -and the peril that threatened him. He saw that it would be utter folly -and madness to make a clean breast of everything as he had already -committed himself too far. So he decided to say nothing for the present -but to await a favourable opportunity of extricating himself from the -awkward situation. - -It so happened that one day the king received a letter from the ruler -of a distant country which stated that he had heard about the famous -astrologer. But that somehow he did not quite believe all that was -said concerning the wisdom and knowledge of the man. By way of testing -his real powers would he, the king, enter into a bet? If acceptable, -he said he would send him a gourd fruit by his Envoys, and if his -astrologer could say how many seeds it contained, he was willing to -forfeit his kingdom provided he (the former) did the same in the -event of his protégé going wrong in his calculations. Having absolute -faith in his astrologer the king forthwith sent a reply to the letter -accepting the bet. - -For many days after this the poor astrologer thought very hard how -he should act in the matter. He knew that the gourd fruit usually -contained thousands of seeds and that to attempt a guess would be worse -than useless. Being fully convinced that the day of reckoning had -at last arrived, he determined to run away and hide himself in some -obscure corner rather than face the disgrace of a public exposure. So -the next thing he did was to procure a boat. He then loaded it with -food for many days and quietly left the shores of the city. - -The following day as he was nearing the mouth of the river, a foreign -vessel came sailing up under a full spread of canvas. He saw from a -distance that the sailors, having nothing particular to do, sat in a -group and were engaged in pleasant conversation. As he came alongside -the vessel he heard a man remark to the others, “Somehow I feel quite -certain that our king will lose the bet. Don’t you fellows know -that this country possesses an astrologer who is infallible in his -calculations? He is reputed to possess the combined sight of a thousand -_devas_. To such a one the single seed, lying hidden within this -gourd we now convey with us, will not prove an obstacle of any serious -difficulty. You may therefore rest assured that he will find it out in -a very short time.” - -When the man heard these words he felt very glad and blessed his good -luck for having freed him once again from a dangerous situation. -Instead, therefore, of continuing his journey, he swung his boat round -and made for home, happy in the possession of his freshly acquired -knowledge. On his arrival he related everything to his wife who shed -tears of joy on hearing the good news. - -Early next day, hearing that the king was about to grant an audience -to the foreign Envoys, the royal astrologer went to the palace. The -courtiers were very glad to see him turn up, for so great was their -confidence in him that they felt that their country was quite safe and -that the chances were in favour of their acquiring a new kingdom. When -the king entered the Hall of Audience he invited the astrologer to sit -on his right while the others sat in front of him with their faces -almost touching the floor. Then the real proceedings began. - -First of all presents were exchanged and complimentary speeches were -delivered on both sides. When these ceremonies were over the Chief -Envoy addressed the king in the following terms, “Oh Mighty Monarch! -The real object of our journey to your most beautiful country has -already formed the subject of correspondence between your Majesty and -my king. I will not therefore tire you by its recital all over again. -My master commands me to show you this gourd and to ask you to say how -many seeds exactly it contains. If what you say be correct his kingdom -passes into your possession, but on the other hand should you be wrong -your kingdom becomes the property of my master.” - -Hearing these words the king smiled and turning to the astrologer near -him, said, “My dear _saya_, it is unnecessary for me to tell -you what you have got to do. Consult your stars and tell us how many -seeds the fruit contains. You already know how generous I have been -to you in the past. And now at this crisis, if you are able to assist -me in winning a kingdom, my reward to you shall be such as to make -you rejoice for all the remaining days of your life.” “Your Majesty,” -replied the astrologer, “everything I have, including my life, belongs -to you. By your will I am able to live, and by your will I must also -die. In the present case my calculations point to one answer only, and -therefore I have no hesitation in saying that this gourd contains one -seed only.” - -Accustomed to seeing gourds with thousands of seeds, the king -turned pale when he heard the astrologer’s answer. But still having -complete faith in him, with effort he restrained himself from further -questioning him. The gourd was then placed upon a gold plate and was -cut open in the presence of all those present. To the astonishment of -everybody there was but a single seed as was said by the astrologer. -The foreign Envoy congratulated the king on having won his bet and on -the possession of so valuable a servant. He then returned home with a -heavy heart bearing the news of his sovereign’s ruin and his country’s -misfortune. - -As to the astrologer his fame spread far and wide. All sorts of -honours and rewards were heaped upon him. He was even granted the -unique privilege of entering or leaving any part of the palace at all -hours, just as his own inclinations directed him. Yet in spite of all -these things he was not happy. He knew he was an imposter who stood in -imminent danger of being found out. He was more than satisfied with -the reputation he had made and the riches he had acquired. He did not -desire any more of these things. His greatest ambition now was to find -a graceful way of escape from his false position. - -So he thus spoke to his wife one day, “My dear wife, so far I have had -most wonderful luck. It has enabled me to escape two great dangers with -honour to myself. But how long will this luck stand by me? Something -tells me that I shall be found out on the third occasion. What I -propose to do next is this. Listen carefully so that you may carry out -my instructions without a hitch. Tomorrow while I am at the palace with -the king you must set fire to our house. Being of thatch and bamboo -it will not take long to be consumed. You must then come running to -the palace to inform me about it and at the same time you must keep on -repeating these words, ‘the Astrological Tables are gone.’ I will then -do the rest.” - -On the following day while the king was holding a grand Durbar in the -Hall of Audience, a great commotion was heard outside the gates. On -enquiry the king was informed that the astrologer’s wife had come to -inform her husband that their house was burnt down and that everything -of value, including the most precious astrological tables by which her -husband made his wonderful predictions, had been consumed by the fire. -Hearing these words the astrologer pretended to be terribly affected. -He struck his forehead with the palm of his hand and for a long time he -remained silent and motionless with grief. Then turning to the king he -said, “May it please your Majesty I am now utterly ruined. For had it -been my riches alone that perished in the fire I should not have minded -so much. They could have been easily replaced. But now since these -precious tables are gone it is impossible to procure a similar set from -anywhere else. I hope I have served your Majesty faithfully and to your -satisfaction in the past; but I grieve to say that I shall not be in -a position to give you the same service in the future. I beseech you -therefore to release me from the present responsible position, for I -shall no longer be useful to you. But in recognition of my past humble -services if your Majesty, in your great goodness of heart, can see fit -to grant me a small pension for the rest of my life I shall have cause -to consider myself exceptionally favoured.” - -The king was very sad to hear of his favourite’s misfortune. And as -there was nothing else to be said or done in the matter he ordered a -beautiful building to be erected on the site of the house that was -burnt down. Next he filled it with a large retinue of servants and -other equipments such as horses, carriages and so forth. Then the whole -thing was made over to the astrologer with the command that for the -rest of his life he was to draw from the Royal Treasury no less a sum -than ten thousand gold mohurs a month. - -As may be imagined the lucky astrologer was more than satisfied -with the arrangements and inwardly congratulated himself upon his -good fortune which once more enabled him to escape from a dangerous -situation. Thus some men are born great, some achieve greatness; but -there are also others who have greatness forced upon them, and it is -to this third and last class that our hero the pretentious astrologer -belongs. - -In the Middle Ages, popular sculpture and painting were but the -translation of popular literature, and nothing was more common to -represent, in pictures and carvings, than individual men under the -forms of the animals who displayed similar characters or similar -propensities. Cunning, treachery, and intrigue were the prevailing -vices of the middle ages, and they were those also of the fox, who -hence became a favourite character in satire. The victory of craft -over force always provoked mirth. The fabulists, or, we should perhaps -rather say, the satirists, soon began to extend their canvas and -enlarge their picture, and, instead of single examples of fraud or -injustice, they introduced a variety of characters, not only foxes, but -wolves, and sheep, and bears, with birds also, as the eagle, the cock, -and the crow, and mixed them up together in long narratives, which -thus formed general satires on the vices of contemporary society. In -this manner originated the celebrated romance of “Reynard the Fox,” -which in various forms, from the twelfth century to the eighteenth, -has enjoyed a popularity which was granted probably to no other book. -The plot of this remarkable satire turns chiefly on the long struggle -between the brute force of Isengrin the Wolf, possessed only with a -small amount of intelligence, which is easily deceived--under which -character is presented the powerful feudal baron--and the craftiness -of Reynard the Fox, who represents the intelligent portion of society, -which had to hold its ground by its wits, and these were continually -abused to evil purposes. Reynard is swayed by a constant impulse to -deceive and victimise everybody, whether friends or enemies, but -especially his uncle Isengrin. It was somewhat the relationship between -the ecclesiastical and baronial aristocracy. Reynard was educated in -the schools, and intended for the clerical order; and at different -times he is represented as acting under the disguise of a priest, -of a monk, of a pilgrim, or even of a prelate of the church. Though -frequently reduced to the greatest straits by the power of Isengrin, -Reynard has generally the better of it in the end: he robs and defrauds -Isengrin continually, outrages his wife, who is half in alliance -with him, and draws him into all sorts of dangers and sufferings, -for which the latter never succeeds in obtaining justice. The old -sculptors and artists appear to have preferred exhibiting Reynard in -his ecclesiastical disguises, and in these he appears often in the -ornamentation of mediæval architectural sculpture, in wood-carvings, -in the illuminations of manuscripts, and in other objects of art. The -popular feeling against the clergy was strong in the middle ages, and -no caricature was received with more favour than those which exposed -the immorality or dishonesty of a monk or a priest. A sculpture in -the church of Christchurch, in Hampshire, represents Reynard in the -pulpit preaching; behind, or rather perhaps beside him, a diminutive -cock stands upon a stool--in modern times we should be inclined to -say he was acting as clerk. Reynard’s costume consists merely of the -ecclesiastical hood or cowl. Such subjects are frequently found on the -carved seats, or misereres, in the stalls of the old cathedrals and -collegiate churches. The painted glass of the great window of the north -cross-aisle of St. Martin’s church in Leicester, which was destroyed -in the last century, represented the fox, in the character of an -ecclesiastic, preaching to a congregation of geese. - -Reynard’s mediæval celebrity dates certainly from a rather early -period. Montfaucon has given an alphabet of ornamental initial letters, -formed chiefly of figures of men and animals, from a manuscript which -he ascribes to the ninth century, among which is one representing -a fox walking upon his hind legs, and carrying two small cocks, -suspended at the ends of a cross staff. It is hardly necessary to say -that this group forms the letter T. Long before this, the Frankish -historian Fredegarius, who wrote about the middle of the seventh -century, introduces a fable in which the fox figures at the court of -the lion. The same fable is repeated by a monkish writer of Bavaria, -named Fromond who flourished in the tenth century, and by another named -Aimoinus, who lived about the year 1,000. At length, in the twelfth -century, Guibert de Nogent, who died about the year 1124, and who has -left us his autobiography (_de Vita Sua_), relates an anecdote -in that work, in explanation of which he tells us that the wolf was -then popularly designated by the name of Isengrin; and in the fables -of Odo, as we have already seen, this name is commonly given to the -wolf, Reynard to the fox, Teburg to the cat, and so on with the others. -This only shows that in the fables of the twelfth century the various -animals were known by these names, but it does not prove that what we -know as the romance of Reynard existed. Jacob Grimm argued from the -derivation and forms of these names, that the fables themselves, and -the romance, originated with the Teutonic peoples, and were indigenous -to them; but his reasons seem more specious than conclusive, and -Paulin Paris holds that the romance of Reynard was native of France, -and that it was partly founded upon old Latin legends perhaps poems. -Its character is altogether feudal, and it is strictly a picture of -society, in France primarily, and secondly in England and the other -nations of feudalism, in the twelfth century. The earliest form in -which this romance is known is in the French poem--or rather poems, for -it consists of several branches or continuations--and is supposed to -date from about the middle of the twelfth century. It soon became so -popular, that it appeared in different forms in all the languages of -Western Europe, except in England, where there appears to have existed -no edition of the romance of Reynard the Fox until Caxton printed -his prose English version of the story. From that time it became, if -possible, more popular in England than elsewhere, and that popularity -had hardly diminished down to the commencement of the present century. - -The popularity of the story of Reynard caused it to be imitated in a -variety of shapes, and this form of satire, in which animals acted the -part of men, became altogether popular. - -A direct imitation of “Reynard the Fox” is found in the early French -romance of “Fauvel,” the hero of which is neither a fox nor an ass, -but a horse. People of all ranks and classes repair to the court of -Fauvel, the horse, and furnish abundant matter for satire on the moral, -political, and religious hypocrisy which pervaded the whole frame -of society. At length the hero resolves to marry, and, in a finely -illuminated manuscript of this romance, preserved in the Imperial -Library in Paris, this marriage furnishes the subject of a picture, -which gives the only representation to be met with of one of the -popular burlesque ceremonies which were so common in the middle ages. - -Among other such ceremonies, it was customary with the populace, on the -occasion of a man’s or woman’s second marriage, or an ill-sorted match, -or on the espousals of people who were obnoxious to their neighbours, -to assemble outside the house, and greet them with discordant music. -This custom is said to have been practiced especially in France, and -it was called a _charivari_. There is still a last remnant of it -in our country in the music of marrow-bones and cleavers, with which -the marriages of butchers are popularly celebrated; but the derivation -of the French name appears not to be known. It occurs in old Latin -documents, for it gave rise to such scandalous scenes of riot and -licentiousness, that the Church did all it could, though in vain, to -suppress it. The earliest mention of this custom, furnished in the -_Glossarium_ of Ducange, is contained in the synodal statutes of -the church of Avignon, passed in the year 1337, from which we learn -that when such marriages occurred, people forced their way into the -houses of the married couple, and carried away their goods, which they -were obliged to pay a ransom for before they were returned, and the -money thus raised was spent in getting up what is called in the statute -relating to it a _Chalvaricum_. It appears from this statute, that -the individuals who performed the _charivari_ accompanied the -happy couple to the church, and returned with them to their residence, -with coarse and indecent gestures and discordant music, and uttering -scurrilous and indecent abuse, and that they ended with feasting. -In the statutes of Meaux, in 1365, and in those of Hugh, bishop of -Beziers, in 1368, the same practice is forbidden, under the name of -_Charavallium_; and it is mentioned in a document of the year -1372, also quoted by Ducange, under that of _Carivarium_, as then -existing at Nîmes. Again, in 1445, the Council of Tours made a decree, -forbidding, under pain of excommunication, “the insolences, clamours, -sounds, and other tumults practiced at second and third nuptials, -called by the vulgar a _Charivarium_, on account of the many and -grave evils arising out of them.” It will be observed that these early -allusions to the charivari are found almost solely in documents coming -from the Roman towns in the south of France, so that this practice -was probably one of the many popular customs derived directly from -the Romans. When Cotgrave’s “Dictionary” was published (that is, in -1632) the practice of the _charivari_ appears to have become more -general in its existence, as well as its application; for he describes -it as “a public defamation, or traducing of; a foule noise made, blacke -santus rung, to the shame and disgrace of another; hence an infamous -(or infaming) ballad sung, by an armed troupe, under the window of an -old dotard, married the day before unto a young wanton, in mockerie of -them both.” And, again, a _charivaris de poelles_ is explained -as “the carting of an infamous person, graced with the harmonie of -stinging kettles and frying-pan musicke.” The word is now generally -used in the sense of a great tumult of discordant music, produced often -by a number of persons playing different tunes on different instruments -at the same time. - -The sermons and satires against extravagance in costume began at -an early period. The Anglo-Norman ladies, in the earlier part of -the twelfth century, first brought in vogue in our island this -extravagance in fashion, which quickly fell under the lash of satirist -and caricaturist. It was first exhibited in the robes rather than -in the head-dress. These Anglo-Norman ladies are understood to have -first introduced stays, in order to give an artificial appearance of -slenderness to their waists; but the greatest extravagance appeared in -the forms of their sleeves. The robe, or gown, instead of being loose, -as among the Anglo-Saxons, was laced close around the body, and the -sleeves, which fitted the arm tightly till they reached the elbows, -or sometimes nearly to the wrist, then suddenly became larger, and -hung down to an extravagant length, often trailing on the ground, and -sometimes shortened by means of a knot. The gown, also, was itself -worn very long. The clergy preached against these extravagances in -fashion, and at times, it is said, with effect; and they fell under -the vigorous lash of the satirist. In a class of satires which became -extremely popular in the twelfth century, and which produced in the -thirteenth the immortal poem of Dante--the visions of purgatory and of -hell--these contemporary extravagances in fashion are held up to public -detestation, and are made the subject of severe punishment. They were -looked upon as among the outward forms of pride. It arose, no doubt, -from this taste--from the darker shade which spread over men’s minds in -the twelfth century--that demons, instead of animals, were introduced -to personify the evil-doers of the time. Such is the figure, seen in a -very interesting manuscript in the British Museum (MS. Cotton. Nero, C -iv.). The demon is here dressed in the fashionable gown with its long -sleeves, of which one appears to have been usually much longer than -the other. Both the gown and sleeve are shortened by means of knots, -while the former is brought close round the waist by tight lacing. -It is a picture of the use of stays made at the time of their first -introduction. - -This superfluity of length in the different parts of the dress was a -subject of complaint and satire at various and very distant periods, -and contemporary illuminations of a perfectly serious character show -that these complaints were not without foundation. - -The professional entertainers of the Middle Ages performed in the -streets and public places, or in the theatres, and especially at -festivals, and they were often employed at private parties, to -entertain the guests at a supper. - -We trace the existence of this class of performers during the earlier -period of the middle ages by the expressions of hostility towards -them used from time to time by the ecclesiastical writers, and the -denunciations of synods and councils. Nevertheless, it is evident from -many allusions to them, that they found their way into the monastic -houses, and were in great favour not only among the monks, but among -the nuns also; that they were introduced into the religious festivals; -and that they were tolerated even in the churches. It is probable -that they long continued to be known in Italy and the countries -near the centre of Roman influence, and where the Latin language was -continued, by their old name of _mimus_. The Anglo-Saxon vocabularies -interpret the Latin _mimus_ by _glig-mon_, a gleeman. In Anglo-Saxon, -_glig_ or _gliu_ meant mirth and game of every description, and as the -Anglo-Saxon teachers who compiled the vocabularies give, as synonyms -of _mimus_, the words _scurra_, _jocifta_, and _pantomimus_, it is -evident that all these were included in the character of the gleeman, -and that the latter was quite identical with his Roman type. It was -the Roman _mimus_ introduced into Saxon England. We have no traces of -the existence of such a class of performers among the Teutonic race -before they became acquainted with the civilisation of imperial Rome. -We know from drawings in contemporary illuminated manuscripts that the -performances of the gleeman did include music, singing, and dancing, -and also the tricks of mountebanks and jugglers, such as throwing up -and catching knives and balls, and performing with tamed bears, etc. - -But even among the peoples who preserved the Latin language, the word -_mimus_ was gradually exchanged for others employed to signify the -same thing. The word _jocus_ had been used in the signification of a -jest, playfulness, _jocari_ signified to jest, and _joculator_ was a -word for a jester; but, in the debasement of the language, _jocus_ -was taken in the signification of everything which created mirth. It -became, in the course of time the French verb _jeu_, and the Italian -_gioco_, or _giuoco_. People introduced a form of the verb _jocare_, -which became the French _juer_, to play or perform. _Joculator_ was -then used in the sense of _mimus_. In French the word became _jogléor_, -or _jougléor_, and in its later form _jougleur_. I may remark that, in -mediæval manuscripts, it is almost impossible to distinguish between -the _u_ and the _n_, and that modern writers have misread this last -word as _jongleur_, and thus introduced into the language a word which -never existed, and which ought to be abandoned. In old English, as we -see in Chaucer, the usual form was _jogelere_. The mediæval joculator, -or jougleur, embraced all the attributes of the Roman _mimus_, and -perhaps more. In the first place he was very often a poet himself, -and composed the pieces which it was one of his duties to sing or -recite. These were chiefly songs, or stories, the latter usually told -in verse, and so many of them are preserved in manuscripts that they -form a very numerous and important class of mediæval literature. The -songs were commonly satirical and abusive, and they were made use of -for purposes of general or personal vituperation. Out of them, indeed, -grew the political songs of a later period. They carried about with -them for exhibition tame bears, monkeys, and other animals, taught to -perform the actions of men. As early as the thirteenth century, we find -them including among their other accomplishments that of dancing upon -the tight-rope. Finally, the jougleurs performed tricks of sleight of -hand, and were often conjurers and magicians. As, in modern times, the -jougleurs of the middle ages gradually passed away, sleight of hand -appears to have become their principal accomplishment, and the name -only was left in the modern word _juggler_. The jougleurs of the middle -ages, like the mimi of antiquity, wandered about from place to place, -and often from country to country, sometimes singly and at others in -companies, exhibited their performances in the roads and streets, -repaired to all great festivals, and were employed especially in the -baronial hall, where, by their songs, stories, and other performances, -they created mirth after dinner. - -This class of society had become known by another name, the origin of -which is not so easily explained. The primary meaning of the Latin -word _minister_ was a servant, one who ministers to another, either -in his wants or in his pleasures and amusements. It was applied -particularly to the cupbearer. In low Latinity, a diminutive of this -word was formed, _minestellus_, or _ministrellus_, a petty servant, or -minister. When we first meet with this word, which is not at a very -early date, it is used as perfectly synonymous with _joculator_, and, -as the word is certainly of Latin derivation, it is clear that it was -from it the middle ages derived the French word _menestrel_ (the modern -_menetrier_), and the English _minstrel_. The mimi or jougleurs were -perhaps considered as the petty ministers to the amusements of their -lord, or of him who for the time employed them. Until the close of the -middle ages, the minstrel and the jougleur were absolutely identical. -Possibly the former may have been considered the more courtly of the -two names. But in England, as the middle ages disappeared, and lost -their influence on society sooner than in France, the word minstrel -remained attached only to the musical part of the functions of the old -mimus, while, as just observed, the juggler took the sleight of hand -and the mountebank tricks. In modern French, except where employed -technically by the antiquity, the word _menetrier_ means a fiddler. - -The jougleurs, or minstrels, formed a very numerous and important, -though a low and despised, class of mediæval society. The dulness of -every-day life in a feudal castle or mansion required something more -than ordinary excitement in the way of amusement, and the old family -bard, who continually repeated to the Teutonic chief the praises of -himself and his ancestors, was soon felt to be a wearisome companion. -The mediæval knights and their ladies wanted to laugh, and to make -them laugh sufficiently it required that the jokes, or tales, or comic -performances, should be broad, coarse, and racy, with a good spicing of -violence and of the wonderful. Hence the jougleur was always welcome -to the feudal mansion, and he seldom went away dissatisfied. But the -subject of the present chapter is rather the literature of the jougleur -than his personal history, and, having traced his origin to the Roman -mimus, we will now proceed to one class of his performances. - -It has been stated that the mimus and the jougleurs told stories. -Of those of the former, unfortunately, none are preserved, except, -perhaps, in a few anecdotes scattered in the pages of such writers as -Apuleius and Lucian, and we are obliged to guess at their character, -but of the stories of the jougleurs a considerable number has been -preserved. It becomes an interesting question how far these stories -have been derived from the mimi, handed down traditionally from mimus -to jougleur, how far they are native in our race, or how far they were -derived at a later date from other sources. And in considering this -question, we must not forget that the mediæval jougleurs were not the -only representatives of the mimi, for among the Arabs of the East also -there had originated from them, modified under different circumstances, -a very important class of minstrels and story-tellers, and with these -the jougleurs of the west were brought into communication at the -commencement of the crusades. There can be no doubt that a very large -number of the stories of the jougleurs were borrowed from the East, for -the evidence is furnished by the stories themselves; and there can be -little doubt also that the jougleurs improved themselves, and underwent -some modification, by their intercourse with Eastern performers of the -same class. - -The people of the middle ages, who took their word _fable_ from the -Latin _fabula_, which they appear to have understood as a mere term for -any short narration, included under it the stories told by the mimi and -jougleurs; but, in the fondness of the middle ages for diminutives, by -which they intended to express familiarity and attachment, applied to -them more particularly the Latin _fabella_, which in the old French -became _fablel_, or, more usually, _fabliau_. The fabliaux of the -jougleurs form a most important class of the comic literature of the -middle ages. They must have been wonderfully numerous, for a very large -quantity of them still remain, and these are only the small portion of -what once existed, which have escaped perishing like the others by the -accident of being written in manuscripts which have had the fortune to -survive; while manuscripts containing others have no doubt perished, -and it is probable that many were only preserved orally, and never -written down at all. The recital of these fabliaux appears to have -been the favourite employment of the jougleurs, and they became so -popular that the mediæval preachers turned them into short stories in -Latin prose, and made use of them as illustrations in their sermons. -Many collections of these short Latin stories are found in manuscripts -which had served as note-books to the preachers, and out of them was -originally compiled that celebrated mediæval book called the “Gesta -Romanorum.” - -The _Trouvères_, or poets, who wrote the Fabliaux flourished chiefly -from the close of the twelfth century to the earlier part of the -fourteenth. They all composed in French, which was a language then -common to England and France, but some of their compositions bear -internal evidence of having been composed in England. No objection -appears to have been entertained to the recital of these licentious -stories before the ladies of the castle or of the domestic circle, and -their general popularity was so great, that the more pious clergy seem -to have thought necessary to find something to take their place in the -post-prandial society of the monastery, and especially of the nunnery; -and religious stories were written in the same form and metre as the -fabliaux. Some of these have been published under the title of _Contes -Devots_, and, from their general dulness, it may be doubted if they -answered their purpose of furnishing amusement so well as the others. - -Troubadour was the Provençal name for the _Trouvères_, and in the -twelfth century these poets flourished so luxuriantly that their -influence is still felt in the poetic sentiment of today. - -Yet they were in no sense humorous writers, unless their satire on the -foibles and follies of the times may be so construed. They were Boudoir -poets and their airs and graces were romantic rather than mirthful. - -Much of their production was of the languishing, sighing order, but the -Fabliaux, of a ruder narrative type were also popular. - -These Fabliaux, now usually given out in expurgated editions, were -extremely plain spoken, and, as so often occurred, were adopted and -adapted by the monks for the real or pretended furtherance of their -religious teachings. - -The Troubadours did much for lyric art by their conscientious attention -to form, but the humor of their productions is almost a negligible -quantity. Their songs were invariably sung, and usually to the -accompaniment of the blue-ribboned guitar, but oftenest the burden was -of sorrowful intent. - -And it was, perhaps, owing to the want of a humorous sense, that the -Troubadours could carry on their lackadaisical and lovesick careers. - -Yet there were some of the Troubadours’ songs which showed a departure -from the usual romantic wailings and a few are here given. - -Doubtless the very free translation adds to their humor, but the motive -is clear. - -Rambaud d’Orange thus declares his policy in treatment to the fair sex. - - - I. - - My boy, if you’d wish to make constant your Venus, - Attend to the plan I disclose. - Her first naughty word you must meet with a menace, - Her next--drop your fist on her nose. - When she’s bad, be you worse, - When she scolds, do you curse, - When she scratches, just treat her to blows. - - - II. - - Defame and lampoon her, be rude and uncivil, - Then you’ll vanquish the haughtiest dame. - Be proud and presumptuous, deceive like the ---- - And aught that you wish you may claim. - All the beautiful slight, - To the plain be polite, - That’s the way the proud hussies to tame. - -Bernard de Ventadour is thus unromantic. - - You say the moon is all aglow, - The nightingale a-singing. - I’d rather watch the red wine flow - And hear the goblets ringing. - - You say ’tis sweet to hear the gale - Creep sighing through the willows. - I’d rather hear a merry tale - ’Mid a group of jolly fellows. - - You say ’tis sweet the stars to view - Upon the waters gleaming. - I’d rather see (’twixt me and you - And the post) my supper steaming. - -While the Monk of Montaudon, an incorrigible satirist, thus descants on -the ladies. - - I am a saint of good repute, by mortals called St. Julian; - Being wanted much on earth I go not oft to realms cerulean. - Yet once of late I made a call, which you may term a high call-- - I went aloft to have a chat along with good St. Michael. - But soon the saint was called away, which closed our conversation, - To judge between some dames and monks engaged in disputation. - _Paint_ was the subject of their strife, the rock on which they - split; - Each party wanted to monopolise the use of it. - The monks declared, with many tears, that they were ruined quite, - For not an ounce of it was left to keep their pictures bright. - The ladies laid it on so thick, as you can understand, - That the compounders could not quite keep pace with their demand. - And so, unless the former were restrained by stringent law, - Each shrine they swore would quickly cease its worshippers to draw. - - Then stepped an ancient beauty forth, and thus to Mike descanted: - “Our sex was painted long before paint was for pictures wanted; - As for myself, how can it hurt a clergyman or saint, - If the crows’-feet beneath my eyes I cover up with paint? - In keeping up my beauteous looks I cannot see a crime; - In spite of them I’ll still repair the ravages of time.” - - St. Michael scratched his pate awhile, then, looking very wise, - Said: “Dames and monks, let me suggest, I pray, a compromise. - The soul as well as body, dames, requires both paint and padding. - You should not wholly spend your years in love-making and gadding. - And you, my monks, be less severe, nor bend the bow to breaking; - All dames should have a moderate time allowed to them for raking. - Then let them paint till forty-five”--at this the dames looked - glum-- - “Or fifty,” cried the saint in haste. “Agree, my monks, now come.” - - “No,” said the monks, “that cannot be, the time is far too long; - But, though we feel within our souls the compromise is wrong, - Yet, in our deep respect for you, our scruples we will drop, - And let the dames, till thirty-five, frequent the painter’s shop; - But only on condition that thereafter they shall cease - To daub, and let us monks enjoy our privilege in peace.” - - Before the ladies could rejoin, two other saints appeared-- - Peter and Lawrence--by the dames no less than monks revered. - They reasoned with the parties, and so well employed their wit, - That they persuaded them at length the difference to split. - The monks agreed to yield five years; the ladies condescended - Up to their fortieth year to paint, and there the trial ended. - -And the same merry Monk of Montaudon voices his sentiments thus: - - I like those sports the world calls folly, - Banquets that know no melancholy; - I love a girl whose talk is jolly, - Not silent like a painted dolly. - - A rich man of my love is winner, - His foe I feel must be a sinner; - And I adore, or I’d be thinner, - A fine fat salmon-trout for dinner. - - I hold among my chief of blisses, - Basking beside a stream with misses; - Love sunshine, flowers; but O than this is - A joy more deep--I _do_ like kisses. - - I hate a husband who’s uxorious; - A grocer’s son, whose dress is glorious; - Hate men in drink who get uproarious - And maids whose conduct is censorious. - - I hate young folks who are precocious, - Hate parsons with a beard ferocious; - Of wine too much can no one broach us; - But too much water is atrocious! - -The Court of Love, a gay and whimsical institution, doubtless -originated in the contests of the Troubadours, when the poets recited -for a prize the particular style of an ode called the _Tenson_. - -Though a fascinating subject, we may not dwell on it further than to -quote the thirty-one articles of the Code of Love, this being the most -available bit of humor. - - 1. Marriage is no legitimate excuse against love. - 2. Whoever cannot conceal cannot love. - 3. No one must have two lovers at the same time. - 4. Love must always be increasing or diminishing. - 5. Favours unwillingly granted have no charm. - 6. No male must love until of full age. - 7. Whoever of two lovers survives the other must observe a - widowhood of two years. - 8. None should be deprived of love except they lose their reason. - 9. None can love except when compelled by the stress of love. - 10. Love is an exile from the homes of avarice. - 11. She who is scrupulous of the marriage tie should not love. - 12. A true lover desires no embraces save those of his lady-love. - 13. Love divulged rarely lasts. - 14. Easy winning makes love contemptible; difficulty renders it - dear. - 15. Every lover grows pale at the sight of his lady-love. - 16. The heart of a lover trembles at the sudden sight of his - lady-love. - 17. A new love makes an old one depart. - 18. Probity alone makes a man worthy to be loved. - 19. If love diminishes it soon fails, and rarely recovers its - strength. - 20. The lover is always timid. - 21. From true jealousy love always increases. - 22. When suspicion is aroused about a lover, jealousy and love - increase. - 23. Filled with thoughts of love, the lover eats and drinks less - [than usual]. - 24. Every act of a lover is determined by thoughts of the beloved. - 25. A true lover thinks naught happy save what would please his - beloved. - 26. Love can deny nothing to love. - 27. A lover cannot be satiated with the charms of the beloved. - 28. A slight prejudice makes a lover think ill of the beloved. - 29. He is not wont to love who is oppressed by too great abundance - of pleasure. - 30. A true lover is always without intermission filled with the - image of his lady-love. - 31. Nothing hinders one woman being loved by two men, or one man by - two women. - -On these rules--some nonsensical, many contradictory, and all -abominable--the following decisions, among many others, were based. - -The first is that of the Countess of Champagne already quoted, with its -approval by Queen Eleanor. In its original verbiage it runs thus: - - * * * * * - -_Question._ Can true love exist between married persons? - -_Judgment_, by the Countess of Champagne: “We say and establish, -by the tenor of these presents, that love cannot extend its rights -to married persons. In fact, lovers accord everything to each other -mutually and gratuitously, without being constrained by motives of -necessity; while married people are bound by the duty of mutually -sacrificing their wills and refusing nothing the one to the other. - -“Let this judgment, which we have given with extreme care, and after -taking counsel of a large number of ladies, be to you a constant and -irrefragable truth. Thus determined in the year 1174, the third day -before the kalends of May.” - -_Question._ Do the greater affection and livelier attachment exist -between lovers or married people? [It having been already decided, let -us remember, that married people could not love one another.] - -_Judgment_, by Ermengarde, Viscountess of Narbonne: “The -attachment of married people and the tender affection of lovers are -sentiments of a nature and custom altogether different. There can -consequently be no just comparison established between objects which -have no resemblance or connection the one with the other.” - -_Question._ A lady attached to a gentleman in an honorable love -marries another. Has she the right to repel her former lover and refuse -him his accustomed favours? - -_Judgment_, by Ermengarde, Viscountess of Narbonne: “The -supervenience of the marriage bond does not bar the right of the prior -attachment, unless the lady utterly renounces love, and declares that -she does so for ever.” - -The _Gesta Romanorum_, one of the most important collections -of moral tales, was put together during the thirteenth century by a -learned Frenchman named Pierre Bercheure, who was a Benedictine Prior. -He chose to lay the scenes of the stories in Rome, though this was not -historically true. Gesta means merely acts or exploits, and many of the -tales are descended from Oriental Folk Lore. - -Not all students of ancient literature agree as to the authorship of -the Gesta as it appears in its present form, but the consensus of -opinion seems to point to the aforesaid Frenchman. - -However, the collector’s name matters little; the work itself, while it -harks back to the Fables of Æsop and Pilpay and to the _Talmud_, -is of interest as a veritable storehouse of Mediæval stories. - -Each of these has its religious application, but it is easy to think -that the readers were oftener intrigued by the story than by the -appended moral. - - - _OF SLOTH_ - -The emperor Pliny had three sons, to whom he was extremely indulgent. -He wished to dispose of his kingdom, and calling the three into his -presence, spoke thus--“The most slothful of you shall reign after my -decease.” “Then,” answered the elder, “the kingdom must be mine; for -I am so lazy, that sitting once by the fire, I burnt my legs, because -I was too indolent to withdraw them.” The second son observed, “The -kingdom should properly be mine, for if I had a rope round my neck, and -held a sword in my hand, my idleness is such, that I should not put -forth my hand to cut the rope.” “But I,” said the third son, “ought to -be preferred to you both; for I outdo both in indolence. While I lay -upon my bed, water dropped from above upon my eyes; and though, from -the nature of the water, I was in danger of becoming blind, I neither -could nor would turn my head ever so little to the right hand or to -the left.” The emperor, hearing this, bequeathed the kingdom to him, -thinking him the laziest of the three. - - - _Application_ - -My beloved, the king is the devil; and the three sons, different -classes of corrupt men. - - - _OF THE GOOD, WHO ALONE WILL ENTER THE KINGDOM OF HEAVEN_ - -There was a wise and rich king who possessed a beloved, but not a -loving wife. She had three illegitimate sons who proved ungrateful -and rebellious to their reputed parent. In due time she brought forth -another son, whose legitimacy was undisputed; and after arriving -at a good old age, he died, and was buried in the royal sepulchre -of his fathers. But the death of the old king caused great strife -amongst his surviving sons, about the right of succession. All of -them advanced a claim, and none would relinquish it to the other; the -three first, presuming upon their priority in birth, and the last upon -his legitimacy. In this strait, they agreed to refer the absolute -decision of their cause to a certain honourable soldier of the late -king. When this person, therefore, heard their difference, he said, -“Follow my advice, and it will greatly benefit you. Draw from its -sepulchre the body of the deceased monarch; prepare, each of you, -a bow and single shaft, and whosoever transfixes the heart of his -father, shall obtain the kingdom.” The counsel was approved, the body -was taken from its repository and bound naked to a tree. The arrow -of the first son wounded the king’s right hand--on which, as if the -contest were determined, they proclaimed him heir to the throne. But -the second arrow went nearer, and entered the mouth; so that he too -considered himself the undoubted lord of the kingdom. However, the -third perforated the heart itself, and consequently imagined that his -claim was fully decided, and his succession sure. It now came to the -turn of the fourth and last son to shoot; but instead of fixing his -shaft to the bow-string, and preparing for the trial, he broke forth -into a lamentable cry, and with eyes swimming in tears, said, “Oh! my -poor father; have I then lived to see you the victim of an impious -contest? Thine own offspring lacerate thy unconscious clay?--Far, -oh! far be it from me to strike thy venerated form, whether living or -dead.” No sooner had he uttered these words, than the nobles of the -realm, together with the whole people, unanimously elected him to the -throne; and depriving the three barbarous wretches of their rank and -wealth, expelled them for ever from the kingdom. - - - _Application_ - -My beloved, that wise and rich king is the King of kings, and Lord -of lords, who joined himself to our flesh, as to a beloved wife. But -going after other gods, it forgot the love due to him in return, and -brought forth by an illicit connection, three sons, viz., Pagans, -Jews, and Heretics. The first wounded the right hand--that is, the -doctrine of Christ by persecutions. The second, the mouth--when they -gave Christ vinegar and gall to drink; and the third, wounded, and -continue to wound the _heart_,--while they strive, by every -sophistical objection, to deceive the faithful. The fourth son is any -good Christian. - - - _OF THE INCARNATION OF OUR LORD_ - -A certain king was remarkable for three qualities. Firstly, he -was braver than all men; secondly, he was wiser; and lastly, more -beautiful. He lived a long time unmarried; and his counsellors would -persuade him to take a wife. “My friends,” said he, “it is clear to -you that I am rich and powerful enough; and therefore want not wealth. -Go, then, through town and country, and seek me out a beautiful and -wise virgin; and if ye can find such a one, however poor she may be, -I will marry her.” The command was obeyed; they proceeded on their -search, until at last they discovered a lady of royal extraction with -the qualifications desired. But the king was not so easily satisfied, -and determined to put her wisdom to the test. He sent to the lady by -a herald a piece of linen cloth, three inches square; and bade her -contrive to make for him a shirt exactly fitted to his body. “Then,” -added he, “she shall be my wife.” The messenger, thus commissioned, -departed on his errand, and respectfully presented the cloth, with the -request of the king. “How can I comply with it,” exclaimed the lady, -“when the cloth is but three inches square? It is impossible to make a -shirt of that; but bring me a vessel in which I may work, and I promise -to make the shirt long enough for the body.” The messenger returned -with the reply of the virgin, and the king immediately sent a sumptuous -vessel, by means of which she extended the cloth to the required size, -and completed the shirt. Whereupon the wise king married her. - - - _Application_ - -My beloved, the king is God; the virgin, the mother of Christ; who -was also the chosen vessel. By the messenger, is meant Gabriel. The -cloth, is the Grace of God, which, by proper care and labour, is made -sufficient for man’s salvation. - - - _OF THE DECEITS OF THE DEVIL_ - -There were once three friends, who agreed to make a pilgrimage -together. It happened that their provisions fell short, and having -but one loaf between them, they were nearly famished. “Should this -loaf,” they said to each other, “be divided amongst us, there will -not be enough for any one. Let us then take counsel together, and -consider how the bread is to be disposed of.” “Suppose we sleep upon -the way,” replied one of them; “and whosoever hath the most wonderful -dream, shall possess the loaf.” The other two acquiesced, and settled -themselves to sleep. But he who gave the advice, arose while they -were sleeping, and eat up the bread, not leaving a single crumb for -his companions. When he had finished he awoke them. “Get up quickly,” -said he, “and tell us your dreams.” “My friends,” answered the first, -“I have had a very marvellous vision. A golden ladder reached up to -heaven, by which angels ascended and descended. They took my soul from -my body, and conveyed it to that blessed place where I beheld the Holy -Trinity; and where I experienced such an overflow of joy, as eye hath -not seen, nor ear heard. This is my dream.” “And I,” said the second, -“beheld the devils with iron instruments, by which they dragged my -soul from the body, and plunging it into hell flames, most grievously -tormented me; saying, ‘As long as God reigns in heaven this will be -your portion.’” “Now then,” said the third, who had eaten the bread, -“hear my dream. It appeared as if an angel came and addressed me in -the following manner, ‘My friend, would you see what is become of your -companions?’ I answered, ‘Yes, Lord. We have but one loaf between us, -and I fear that they have run off with it.’ ‘You are mistaken,’ he -rejoined, ‘it lies beside us: follow me.’ He immediately led me to the -gate of heaven, and by his command I put in my head and saw you; and I -thought that you were snatched up into heaven and sat upon a throne of -gold, while rich wines and delicate meats stood around you. Then said -the angel, ‘Your companion, you see, has an abundance of good things, -and dwells in all pleasures. There he will remain for ever; for he has -entered a celestial kingdom and cannot return. Come now where your -other associate is placed.’ I followed, and he led me to hell-gates, -where I beheld you in torment, as you just now said. Yet they furnished -you, even there, with bread and wine in abundance. I expressed my -sorrow at seeing you in misery, and you replied, ‘As long as God reigns -in heaven here I must remain, for I have merited it. Do you then rise -up quickly, and eat all the bread, since you will see neither me nor -my companion again.’ I complied with your wishes; arose, and eat the -bread.” - - - _Application_ - -My beloved, the Saracens and Jews; the rich and powerful; and finally, -the perfect among men, are typified by the three companions. The bread, -represents the kingdom of heaven. - - - _OF VIGILANCE IN OUR CALLING_ - -A thief went one night to the house of a rich man, and scaling the -roof, peeped through a hole to examine if any part of the family were -yet stirring. The master of the house, suspecting something, said -secretly to his wife, “Ask me in a loud voice how I acquired the -property I possess; and do not desist until I bid you.” The woman -complied, and began to vociferate, “My dear husband, pray tell me, -since you never were a merchant, how you obtained all the wealth which -you have now collected.” “My love,” answered her husband, “do not ask -such foolish questions.” But she persisted in her enquiries; and at -length, as if overcome by her urgency, he said, “Keep what I am going -to tell you a secret, and your curiosity shall be gratified.” - -“Oh, trust me.” - -“Well, then, you must know that I was a thief, and obtained what I now -enjoy by nightly depredations.” “It is strange,” said the wife, “that -you were never taken.” “Why,” replied he, “my master, who was a skilful -clerk, taught me a particular word, which, when I ascended the tops of -people’s houses, I pronounced, and thus escaped detection.” “Tell me, I -conjure you,” returned the lady, “what that powerful word was.” “Hear, -then; but never mention it again, or we shall lose all our property.” -“Be sure of that;” said the lady, “it shall never be repeated.” - -“It was--is there no one within hearing?--the mighty word was -‘FALSE.’” - -The lady, apparently quite satisfied, fell asleep; and her husband -feigned it. He snored lustily, and the thief above, who had heard -their conversation with much pleasure, aided by the light of the moon, -descended, repeating seven times the cabalistic sound. But being too -much occupied with the charm to mind his footing, he stepped through -the window into the house; and in the fall dislocated his leg and arm, -and lay half dead upon the floor. The owner of the mansion, hearing -the noise, and well knowing the reason, though he pretended ignorance, -asked, “What was the matter?” “Oh!” groaned the suffering thief, -“_False_ words have deceived me.” In the morning he was taken -before the judge, and afterwards suspended on a cross. - - - _Application_ - -My beloved, the thief is the devil; the house is the human heart. The -man is a good prelate, and his wife is the church. - -To sum up, then, it would appear that the humorous muse in the Middle -Ages concerned herself chiefly with scattering and disseminating moral -lessons, which, because of the superiority of the teachers to the -taught, showed up an ignorance that was laughable. - -The fables and maxims that had been passed from mouth to mouth were put -into writing and translated into various tongues. - -The Sanscrit or Hindoo stories were undoubtedly the oldest and from -them were taken the Arabic and Persian tales. These drifted into Europe -and took a proper place among the literatures of the world. - -Coleridge says that humor took its rise in the Middle Ages, while a -present day writer contradictingly asserts that nobody smiled from the -second century until the fifteenth. - -It is true, that as the advent of Christianity put a full stop to all -progress in the arts and sciences so it impeded the advance of learning -and delayed the development of humor. - -And yet, though men may not have smiled during the dark ages, they now -and then laughed, at a humor that was far from subtle, but which was -the foundation of the world’s merriment. - -The monks and ecclesiastics who formulated the moral precepts for the -people found that the lessons were better conveyed by funny stories -than by serious ones, and the preachers came to use the hammer of -amusement to drive home their good advices. - - - - - MODERN HUMOR - -With the readiness of the essayists to ascribe literary paternity, -Chaucer is called the Father of English Poetry. - -Coleridge observes that he is the best representative in English of the -Norman-French Trouvères, but even more than by the French, Chaucer was -influenced by the great Italians, Dante, Petrarch and Boccaccio, as -well as by Ovid and Virgil. - -Father of Modern Poetry more correctly describes Chaucer, and as he was -the first notable English poet who was a layman, so also, was he the -first connected with the court. - -Though his time, the Fourteenth Century, is practically in the Middle -Ages, Chaucer is distinctly modern in viewpoint and philosophy. - -Born in London, he lived his life in the company of the men and women -of the circles he knew and loved. Mankind was his study and his theme. - -The average reader is hampered by the difficulties of the early English -diction, and the modern mind is shocked by the freedom of speech then -in vogue. - -But we append such bits of Chaucer’s verse as space allows. - - * * * * * - -The story of the Cock and the Fox, in the Nun’s Priest’s Tale, is -allowed by judges to be the most admirable fable (in the narration) -that ever was written. The description of the birds, the delightful -gravity with which they are invested with intellectual endowments, are -conceived in the highest taste of true poetry and natural humour. - - - _THE COCK AND THE FOX_ - - Now every wise man, let him hearken me: - This story is all so true, I undertake, - As is the book of Lancelot du Lake, - That women hold in full great reverence. - Now will I turn again to my sentence. - A col fox, full of sly iniquity, - That in the grove had wonned yearés three, - By high imagination forecast. - The samé night throughout the hedges brast - Into the yard where Chanticleer the fair - Was wont, and eke his wivés to repair, - And in a bed of wortés still he lay - Till it was passed undern of the day, - Waiting his time on Chanticleer to fall, - As gladly do these homicidés all - That in await liggen to murder men. - O falsé murderer! rucking in thy den, - O newé Scariot, newé Ganelon! - O false dissimuler, O Greek Simon! - That broughtest Troy all utterly to sorrow. - O Chanticleer, accursed be the morrow - That thou into thy yard flew from thy beams - Thou were full well ywarnéd by thy dreams - That thilké day was perilous to thee: - But what that God forewot must needés be, - After the opinion of certain clerkés, - Witness on him that any perfect clerk is, - That in schoolé is great altercation - In this matteré, and great disputision, - And hath been of a hundred thousand men: - But I ne cannot boult it to the bren, - As can the holy Doctor Augustin, - Or Boece, or the Bishop Bradwardin, - Whether that Godde’s worthy foreweeting - Straineth me needly for to do a thing - (Needely clepe I simple necessity) - Or elles if free choice be granted me - To do the samé thing or do it naught - Though God forewot it ere that it was wrought, - Or if his weeting straineth never a deal - But by necessity conditional. - I will not have to do of such mattere; - My Tale is of a Cock, as ye may hear, - That took his counsel of his wife with sorrow, - To walken in the yard upon the morrow - That he had met the dream, as I you told. - Womenne’s counsels be full often cold; - Womenne’s counsels brought us first to woe, - And made Adam from Paradise to go, - There as he was full merry and well at ease: - But for I n’ot to whom I might displease - If I counsel of women wouldé blame-- - Pass over, for I said it in my game. - Read authors where they treat of such mattere, - And what they say of women ye may hear, - These be the cocke’s wordés and not mine: - I can none harm of no womán devine. - Fair in the sand to bathe her merrily - Li’th Partelote, and all her sisters by, - Against the sun, and Chanticleer so free - Sang merrier than the mermaid in the sea, - (For Phisiologus sayeth sikerly - How that they singeth well and merrily). - And so befell that as he cast his eye - Among the wortés on a butterfly, - He was ware of this fox that lay full low, - Nothing he list him thenné for to crow, - But cried anon, “Cok! cok!” and up he start - As man that was affrayed in his heart, - For naturally a beast desireth flee - From his contráry if he may it see, - Though he ne’er erst had seen it with his eye. - This Chanticleer, when he ’gan him espy, - He would have fled, but that the fox anon - Said: “Gentle sir, alas! what will be done? - Be ye afraid of me that am your friend? - Now, certes, I were worse than any fiend - If I to you would harm or villany. - I am not come your counsel to espy; - But truély the cause of my coming - Was only for to hearken how ye sing, - For truély ye have as merry a steven - As any angel hath that is in heaven; - Therwith ye have of music more feeling - Than had Boece, or any that can sing. - My Lord, your father (God his soulé bless!) - And eke your mother of her gentleness, - Have in my house ybeen to my great ease, - And certés, Sir, full fain would I you please. - But for men speak of singing, I will say, - (So may I brouken well my eyen tway,) - Save you, ne heard I never man so sing - As did your father in the morrowning: - Certés it was of heart all that he sung: - And for to make his voice the moré strong - He would so pain him, that with both his eyen - He musté wink, so loud he wouldé crien, - And standen on his tiptoes therewithal, - And stretchen forth his necké long and small. - And eke he was of such discretion, - That there n’as no man in no región - That him in song or wisdom mighté pass. - I have well read in Dan Burnel the ass - Among his Vers, how that there was a cock, - That for a Priestés son gave him a knock - Upon his leg when he was young and nice - He made him for to lose his benefice; - But certain there is no comparison - Betwixt the wisdom and discretion - Of youré father and his subtilty. - Now singeth, Sir, for Sainté Charity: - Let see, can ye your father counterfeit? - This Chanticleer his wingés ’gan to beat, - As man that could not his treason espy, - So was he ravished with his flattery. - Alas! ye lordés, many a false flatour - Is in your court, and many a losengeour, - That pleaseth you well moré, by my faith, - Than he that sothfastness unto you saith. - Readeth Ecclesiast of flattery: - Beware ye lordés of their treachery. - This Chanticleer stood high upon his toes - Stretching his neck, and held his eyen close, - And ’gan to crowen loude for the nones; - And Dan Russell the fox start up at once, - And by the gargat henté Chanticleer - And on his back toward the wood him bear, - For yet ne was there no man that him sued. - O destiny! that mayst not be eschew’d, - Alas that Chanticleer flew from the beams, - Alas his wife ne raughté not of dreams! - And on a Friday fell all this mischance. - - - _TO MY EMPTY PURSE_ - - To you, my purse, and to none other wight, - Complain I, for ye be my lady dear; - I am sorry now that ye be so light, - For certés ye now make me heavy cheer; - Me were as lief be laid upon a bier, - For which unto your mercy thus I cry, - Be heavy again, or ellés must I die. - - Now vouchsafen this day, ere it be night, - That I of you the blissful sound may hear, - Or see your colour like the sunné bright, - That of yellowness ne had never peer; - Ye be my life, ye be my heartés steer; - Queen of comfórt and of good company, - Be heavy again, or ellés must I die. - - Now, purse, that art to me my livés light, - And saviour, as down in this world here, - Out of this towné help me by your might, - Sithen that you will not be my tresór, - For I am shave as nigh as any frere, - But I prayen unto your courtesy, - Be heavy again, or ellés must I die. - - - _BALLAD OF WOMEN’S DOUBLENESS_ - - This world is full of variance - In everything; who taketh heed, - That faith and trust, and all Constance, - Exiléd be, this is no drede, - And save only in womanhead, - I can ysee no sikerness; - But, for all that, yet as I read, - Beware alway of doubleness. - - Also that the fresh summer flowers, - The white and red, the blue and green, - Be suddenly with winter showers, - Made faint and fade, withouten ween; - That trust is none, as ye may seen, - In no thing, nor no steadfastness, - Except in women, thus I mean; - Yet aye beware of doubleness. - - The crooked moon (this is no tale), - Some while isheen and bright of hue, - And after that full dark and pale, - And every moneth changeth new, - That who the very sothé knew - All thing is built on brittleness, - Save that women always be true; - Yet aye beware of doubleness. - - The lusty freshé summer’s day, - And Phœbus with his beamés clear, - Towardés night they draw away, - And no longer list t’ appear, - That in this present life now here - Nothing abideth in his fairness, - Save women aye be found entere, - And devoid of all doubleness. - - The sea eke with his sterné wawés - Each day yfloweth new again, - And by the concourse of his lawés - The ebbe floweth in certain; - After great drought there cometh rain; - That farewell here all stableness, - Save that women be whole and plein; - Yet aye beware of doubleness. - - Fortunés wheel go’th round about - A thousand timés day and night, - Whose course standeth ever in doubt - For to transmue she is so light, - For which adverteth in your sight - Th’ untrust of worldly fickleness, - Save women, which of kindly right - Ne hath no touch of doubleness. - - What man ymay the wind restrain, - Or holden a snake by the tail? - Who may a slipper eel constrain - That it will void withouten fail? - Or who can driven so a nail - To maké sure newfangleness, - Save women, that can gie their sail - To row their boat with doubleness? - - At every haven they can arrive - Whereat they wot is good passáge; - Of innocence they cannot strive - With wawés, nor no rockés rage; - So happy is their lodemanage - With needle and stone their course to dress, - That Solomon was not so sage - To find in them no doubleness. - - Therefore whoso doth them accuse - Of any double intentión, - To speaké rown, other to muse, - To pinch at their conditión, - All is but false collusión, - I dare right well the soth express; - They have no better protectión, - But shroud them under doubleness. - - So well fortunéd is their chance, - The dice to-turnen up so down, - With sice and cinque they can advance, - And then by revolutión - They set a fell conclusión - Of lombés, as in sothfastness, - Though clerkés maken mentión - Their kind is fret with doubleness. - - Sampson yhad experience - That women were full true yfound - When Dalila of innocence - With shearés ’gan his hair to round; - To speak also of Rosamond, - And Cleopatra’s faithfulness, - The stories plainly will confound - Men that apeach their doubleness. - - Single thing is not ypraiséd, - Nor of old is of no renown, - In balance when they be ypesed, - For lack of weight they be borne down, - And for this cause of just reason - These women all of rightwisness - Of choice and free electión - Most love exchange and doubleness. - - - _L’ENVOI_ - - O ye women! which be inclinéd - By influence of your natúre - To be as pure as gold yfinéd, - And in your truth for to endure, - Armeth yourself in strong armúre, - (Lest men assail your sikerness,) - Set on your breast, yourself t’assure, - A mighty shield of doubleness. - -Chaucer was called the Morning Star of Song, and his immediate -followers proved to be satellites of far less magnitude. - -John Skelton, an early Poet Laureate, was of a buffoon type of humor, -yet thus speaks of his own verse. - - Though my rhyme be ragged, - Tattered and gagged, - Rudely rainbeaten, - Rusty, moth-eaten, - If ye take well therewith, - It hath in it some pith. - -One, at least, of his whimsical poems is not without charm. - - - _TO MAISTRES MARGARET HUSSEY_ - - Mirry Margaret - As midsomer flowre, - Gentyll as faucon - Or hauke of the towre, - With solace and gladnes - Moch mirth, and no madnes, - All good and no badnes, - So joyously - So maydenly - So womanly - Her demeynynge - In every thynge - Far, far passynge - That I can endite - Or suffice to write - Of mirry Margaret - As mydsomer flowre - Gentill as faucon - Or hawke of the towre. - As pacient and as styll - And as ful of good wil - As faire Isiphyll - Coliander - Sweete pomaunder - Good Cassander; - Stedfast of thought - Wel made, wel wroght, - Far may be sought - Erst that ye can fynde - So curteise so kynde - As mirry Margaret - This midsomer flowre, - Gentyll as faucon - Or hauke of the towre. - -The Troubadours and Minstrels were followed by a type of entertainer -known as the Fool or the Court Fool, who took the place of the satirist -in the great households. - -Soon various jests were collected, and attributed to these domestic -fools, whose garb began to take the form of the cap and bells, -accompanied by the jester’s bauble. - -As printing became more widespread, the jestbooks multiplied, and many -collections were published in England. - -Skelton seems to have been quite as much Court Jester as Poet Laureate -under Henry VII and Henry VIII, and a volume of _Merie Tayles of -Skelton_ is one of the earliest of the Jest Books. - -Yet, since this was published some forty years after Skelton’s death -it is assumed that but few of the tales are really of the poet’s -origination. - -Likewise, Scogin’s Jests and the stories attributed to Tarlton and -Peele are considered unauthentic as to authorship and merely the work -of the hack writers of the period. - -These Jestbooks as well as the _C. Mery Talys_, or _Hundred -Merry Tales_, which, with its companion volume, _Mery Tales and -Quicke Answeres_, was, we are told, used by Shakespeare, are now -found in many reprints, and only a few bits of their witty or humorous -lore may be given here. - -As an example of the sharp satire of Skelton, the following shows how -he regarded the prevalent practice of obtaining letters patent of -monopoly from the crown, and also is a hit at the fondness for drinking -among the Welsh. - - - _HOW THE WELSHMAN DYD DESYRE SKELTON TO AYDE HIM IN HYS SUTE TO THE - KYNGE FOR A PATENT TO SELL DRYNKE_ - -Skelton, when he was in London went to the kynge’s courte, where there -dyd come to him a Welshman saying, “Syr, it is so that many dooth come -upp of my country to the kynge’s court, and some doth get of the kynge -by a patent a castell, and some a parke, and some a forest, and some -one fee and some another, and they doe lyve lyke honest men, and I -should lyve as honestly as the best, if I might have a patent for good -drynke, wherefore I dooe praye you to write a fewe woords for me in a -lytle byll to geve the same to the kynge’s handes, and I will geve you -well for your laboure. I am contented sayde Skelton. Syte downe, then, -sayd the Welshman and write. What shall I wryte? sayde Skelton. The -Welshman said wryte “_dryncke_.” Nowe sayde the Welshman wryte -“_more dryncke_.” What nowe? said Skelton. Wryte now “_A great -deale of dryncke_.” Nowe sayd the Welshman putte to all thys dryncke -“_A littell crome of breade_, and _a great déale of dryncke to -it_,” and reade once again. Skelton dyd reade “_Dryncke, more -dryncke, and a great deale of dryncke and a lytle crome of breade and a -great deale of dryncke to it_.” Then the Welshman sayde Put oute the -litle crome of breade, and sette in _all dryncke and no breade_. -And if I myght have thys sygned of the kynge, sayde the Welshman, I -care for no more as long as I lyve. Well, then, sayde Skelton, when you -have thys sygned of the kynge then will I labour for a patent to have -bread, that you wyth your dryncke and I with the bread may fare well, -and seeke our livinge with bagge and staffe. - - - HERE BEGYNNETH CERTAYNE MERYE TALES OF SKELTON, POET LAURIAT - - - _HOW SKELTON CAME LATE HOME TO OXFORD FROM ABINGTON_ - -Skelton was an Englysheman borne as Skogyn was, and hee was educated -& broughte up in Oxfoorde: and there was he made a poete lauriat. And -on a tyme he had ben at Abbington to make mery, wher that he had eate -salte meates, and hee did com late home to Oxforde, and he did lye in -an ine named y^e Tabere whyche is now the Angell, and hee dyd drynke, -& went to bed. About midnight he was so thyrstie or drye that hee was -constrained to call to the tapster for drynke, & the tapster harde -him not. Then hee cryed to hys oste & hys ostes, and to the ostler, -for drinke; and no man wold here hym. Alacke, sayd Skelton, I shall -peryshe for lacke of drynke! what reamedye? At the last he dyd crie -out and sayd: Fyer, fyer, fyer! when Skelton hard euery man bustle -hymselfe upward, & some of them were naked, & some were halfe asleepe -and amased, and Skelton dyd crye: Fier, fier! styll, that everye man -knewe not whether to resorte. Skelton did go to bed, and the oste and -ostis, & the tapster with the ostler, dyd runne to Skeltons chamber -with candles lyghted in theyr handes, saying: where, where, where is -the fyer? Here, here, here, said Skelton, & poynted hys fynger to hys -moouth, saying: fetch me some drynke to quenche the fyer and the heate -and the drinesse in my mouthe: & so they dyd. Wherfore it is good for -everye man to helpe hys owne selfe in tyme of neede wythe some policie -or crafte, so bee it there bee no deceit nor falshed used. - - - THE JESTS OF SCOGIN - - - _HOW JACKE BY SOPHISTRY WOULD MAKE OF TWO EGGS THREE_ - -Scogin on a tyme had two egs to his breakfast, and Jack his scholler -should rost them; and as they were rosting, Scogin went to the fire -to warme him. And as the egs were rosting, Jacke said: sir, I can by -sophistry prove that here be three egs. Let me se that, said Scogin. -I shall tel you, sir, said Jack. Is not here one? Yes, said Scogin. -And is not here two? Yes, said Scogin; of that I am sure. Then Jack -did tell the first egge againe, saying: is not this the third? O, said -Scogin, Jack, thou art a good sophister; wel, said Scogin, these two -eggs shall serve me for my breakfast, and take thou the third for thy -labour and for the herring that thou didst give mee the last day. So -one good turne doth aske another, and to deceive him that goeth about -to deceive is no deceit. - - * * * * * - -This is a very common story. It is, in a slightly varied form, No. 67 -of _A C Mery Tales_, and Johnson has introduced it into _The -Pleasant Conceits of Old Hobson, the Merry Londoner_, 1607. - - - _HOW SCOGIN SOLD POWDER TO KILL FLEAS_ - -Scogin divers times did lacke money, and could not tell what shift -to make. At last, he thought to play the physician, and did fill a -box full of the powder of a rotten post; and on a Sunday he went to -a Parish Church, and told the wives that hee had a powder to kil up -all the fleas in the country, and every wife bought a pennyworth; and -Scogin went his way, ere Masse was done. The wives went home, and -cast the powder into their beds and in their chambers, and the fleas -continued still. On a time, Scogin came to the same Church on a -sunday, and when the wives had espied him, the one said to the other: -this is he that deceived us with the powder to kill fleas; see, said -the one to the other, this is the selfe-same person. When Masse was -done, the wives gathered about Scogin, and said: you be an honest man -to deceive us with the powder to kill fleas. Why, said Scogin, are not -your fleas all dead? We have more now (said they) than ever we had. I -marvell of that, said Scogin, I am sure you did not use the medicine as -you should have done. They said: wee did cast it in our beds and in our -chambers. I, said he, there be a sort of fooles that will buy a thing, -and will not aske what they should doe with it. I tell you all, that -you should have taken every flea by the neck, and then they would gape; -and then you should have cast a little of the powder into every flea’s -mouth, and so you should have killed them all. Then said the wives: we -have not onely lost our money, but we are mocked for our labour. - - - FROM MERY TALES OF THE MAD MEN OF GOTTAM - - - _THE SECOND TALE_ - -There was a man of Gottam did ride to the market with two bushells of -wheate, and because his horse should not beare heavy, he caried his -corne upon his owne necke, & did ride upon his horse, because his horse -should not cary to heavy a burthen. Judge you which was the wisest, his -horse or himselfe. - - - _THE THIRD TALE_ - -On a tyme, the men of Gottam would have pinned in the Cuckoo, whereby -shee should sing all the yeere, and in the midst of ye town they made -a hedge round in compasse, and they had got a Cuckoo, and had put -her into it, and said: Sing here all the yeere, and thou shalt lacke -neither meate nor drinke. The Cuckoo, as soone as she perceived her -selfe incompassed within the hedge, flew away. A vengeance on her! said -they; we made not our hedge high enough. - - - FROM MOTHER BUNCHES MERRIMENTS - - - _HOW MADDE COOMES, WHEN HIS WIFE WAS DROWNED, SOUGHT HER AGAINST THE - STREAME_ - -Coomes of Stapforth, hearing that his wife was drowned comming from -market, went with certayne of his friends to see if they could find her -in the river. He, contrary to all the rest, sought his wife against -the streame; which they perceyving, sayd he lookt the wrong way. And -why so? (quoth he.) Because (quoth they) you should looke downe the -streame, and not against it. Nay, zounds (quoth hee), I shall never -find her that way: for shee did all things so contrary in her life -time, that now she is dead, I am sure she will goe against the streame. - - - THE PLEASANT CONCEITS OF OLD HOBSON - - - _HOW MAISTER HOBSON SAID HE WAS NOT AT HOME_ - -On a time Master Hobson upon some ocation came to Master Fleetewoods -house to speake with him, being then new chosen the recorder of London, -and asked one of his men if he were within, and he said he was not at -home. But Maister Hobson, perceving that his maister bad him say so, -and that he was within (not being willing at that time to be spoken -withall), for that time desembling the matter, he went his way. Within -a few dayes after, it was Maister Fleetwoods chaunse to come to Maister -Hobson’s, and knocking at the dore, asked if he were within. Maister -Hobson, hearing and knowing how he was denyed Maister Fleetwoods speach -before time, spake himselfe aloud, and said hee was not at home. Then -sayd Maister Fleetwood: what, Master Hobson, thinke you that I knowe -not your voyce? Whereunto Maister Hobson answered and said: now, -Maister Fleetewood, am I quit with you: for when I came to speake with -you, I beleeved your man that said you were not at home, and now you -will not beleeve mine owne selfe; and this was the mery conference -betwixt these two merry gentlemen. - - - _FROM CERTAINE CONCEYTS & JEASTS; AS WELL TO LAUGH DOWNE OUR - HARDER UNDIGESTED MORSELLS, AS BREAKE UP WITH MYRTH OUR BOOKE - AND BANQUET. COLLECTED OUT OF SCOTUS POGGIUS, AND OTHERS_ - -A certayne Poore-man met king Phillip, & besought him for something, -because he was his kinsman. The king demanded frō whence descended. -Who answered: from Adam. Then the K. commaunded an Almes to be given. -Hee replyed, an Almes was not the gift of a king; to whome the king -answered: if I should so reward all my kindred in that kinde, I should -leave but little for myselfe. - - * * * * * - -A certaine conceyted Traveller being at a Banquet, where chanced a -flye to fall into his cuppe, which hee (being to drinke) tooke out for -himselfe, and afterwards put in againe for his fellow: being demanded -his reason, answered, that for his owne part he affected them not, but -it might be some other did. - - * * * * * - -A certaine player, seeing Thieves in his house in the night, thus -laughingly sayde: I knowe not what you will finde here in the dark, -when I can find nothing my selfe in the light. - - - _WIT AND MIRTH. CHARGEABLY COLLECTED OUT OF TAVERNS, - ORDINARIES, INNES, BOWLING-GREENES AND ALLYES, ALEHOUSES, - TOBACCO-SHOPS, HIGHWAYES, AND WATER-PASSAGES. MADE UP, AND - FASHIONED INTO CLINCHES, BULLS, QUIRKES, YERKES, QUIPS, AND - JERKES. APOTHEGMATICALLY BUNDLED UP AND GARBLED AT THE REQUEST - OF JOHN GARRET’S GHOST_ - -Taylor the Water-Poet was one of the favourite authors of Robert -Southey, who has given an account of his life and writings in -his _Uneducated Poets_, and has quoted him largely in his -_Common-Place Book_. - -John Garret, at the request of whose ghost the Water-Poet professes -to have formed the present collection, was a jester of the period, -mentioned by Bishop Corbet and others. Heylin, author of the -Cosmography, speaks of “Archy’s bobs, and Garrets sawcy jests.” In his -dedication of the _Wit and Mirth_, Taylor alludes to Garret as -“that old honest mirrour of mirth deceased.” - -Taylor, to forestall possible cavils at his plagiarisms from others, or -adoption of good sayings already published and well-known, expressly -says in the dedication: “Because I had many of them [the jests] by -relation and heare-say, I am in doubt that some of them may be in print -in some other Authors, which I doe assure you is more than I doe know.” - - * * * * * - -One said, that hee could never have his health in _Cambridge_, -and that if hee had lived there till this time, hee thought in his -conscience that hee had dyed seven yeeres agoe. - -A Judge upon the Bench did aske an old man how old he was. My Lord, -said he, I am eight and fourscore. And why not fourscore and eight? -said the Judge. The other repli’d: because I was eight, before I was -fourescore. - - * * * * * - -A rich man told his nephew that hee had read a booke called _Lucius -Apuleius of the Golden Asse_, and that he found there how Apuleius, -after he had beene an asse many yeeres, by eating of Roses he did -recover his manly shape againe, and was no more an asse: the young man -replied to his uncle: Sir, if I were worthy to advise you, I would give -you counsell to eate a salled of Roses once a weeke yourselfe. - - * * * * * - -A country man being demanded how such a River was called, that ranne -through their Country, hee answered that they never had need to call -the River, for it alwayes came without calling. - - * * * * * - -One borrowed a cloake of a Gentleman, and met one that knew him, who -said: I thinke I know that cloake. It may be so, said the other, I -borrowed it of such a Gentleman. The other told him that it was too -short. Yea, but, quoth he that had the cloake, I will have it long -enough, before I bring it home againe. - - - _OF THE WOMAN THAT FOLLOWED HER FOURTH HUSBANDS BERE AND WEPT_ - -A woman there was which had had iiii husbandys. It fourtuned also that -this fourth husbande dyed and was brought to chyrche upon the bere; -whom this woman folowed and made great mone, and waxed very sory, -in so moche that her neyghbours thought she wolde swown and dye for -sorow. Wherfore one of her gosseps cam to her, and spake to her in -her ere, and bad her, for Godds sake, comfort her self and refrayne -that lamentacion, or ellys it wold hurt her and peraventure put her in -jeopardy of her life. To whom this woman answeryd and sayd: I wys, good -gosyp, I have grete cause to morne, if ye knew all. For I have beryed -iii husbandes besyde this man; but I was never in the case that I am -now. For there was not one of them but when that I folowed the corse to -chyrch, yet I was sure of an nother husband, before the corse cam out -of my house, and now I am sure of no nother husband; and therfore ye -may be sure I have great cause to be sad and hevy. - -By thys tale ye may se that the olde proverbe ys trew, that it is as -great pyte to se a woman wepe as a gose to go barefote. - - - A C. MERY TALYS - - - _OF THE MERCHAUNTE OF LONDON THAT DYD PUT NOBLES IN HIS MOUTHE IN HYS - DETHE BEDDE_ - -A ryche covetous marchant there was that dwellid in London, which -ever gaderyd mony and could never fynd in hys hert to spend ought -_upon_ hym selfe nor upon no man els. Whiche fell sore syke, and -as he laye on hys deth bed had his purs lyenge at his beddys hede, and -[he] had suche a love to his money that he put his hande in his purs, -and toke out thereof x or xii li. in nobles and put them in his mouth. -And because his wyfe and other perceyved hym very syke and lyke to dye, -they exortyd hym to be confessyd, and brought the curate unto hym. -Which when they had caused him to say Benedicite, the curate bad hym -crye God mercy and shewe to hym his synnes. Than this seyck man began -to sey: I crey God mercy I have offendyd in the vii dedly synnes and -broken the x commaundementes; but because of the gold in his mouth he -muffled so in his speche, that the curate could not well understande -hym: wherfore the curat askyd hym, what he had in his mouthe that -letted his spech. I wys, mayster parsone, quod the syke man, -muffelynge, I have nothyng in my mouthe but a lyttle money; bycause I -wot not whither I shal go, I thought I wold take some spendynge money -with me: for I wot not what nede I shall have therof; and incontynent -after that sayeng dyed, before he was confessyd or repentant that any -man coulde perceyve, and so by lyklyhod went to the devyll. - -By this tale ye may se, that they that all theyr lyves wyll never do -charyte to theyr neghbours, that God in tyme of theyr dethe wyll not -suffre them to have grace of repentaunce. - - - _OF THE SCOLER OF OXFORDE THAT PROVED BY SOVESTRY II CHYKENS III_ - -A ryche Frankelyn in the contrey havynge by his wyfe but one chylde and -no mo, for the great affeccyon that he had to his sayd chylde founde -hym at Oxforde to schole by the space of ii or iii yere. Thys yonge -scoler, in a vacacyon tyme, for his disporte came home to his father. -It fortuned afterwarde on a nyght, the father, the mother and the sayd -yonge scoler - - _5 lines wanting._ - -_I_ have studyed sovestry, and by that scyence I can prove, that -these ii chekyns in the dysshe be thre chekyns. Mary, sayde the father, -that wolde I fayne se. The scoller toke one of the chekyns in his hande -and said: lo! here is one chekyn, and incontynente he toke bothe the -chekyns in his hande jointely and sayd: here is ii chekyns; and one and -ii maketh iii: ergo here is iii chekyns. Than the father toke one of -the chekyns to him selfe, and gave another to his wyfe, and sayd thus: -lo! I wyll have one of the chekyns to my parte, and thy mother shal -have a nother, and because of thy good argumente thou shalte have the -thyrde to thy supper: for thou gettyst no more meate here at this tyme; -whyche promyse the father kepte, and so the scoller wente without his -supper. - -By this tale men may se, that it is great foly to put one to scole to -lerne any subtyll scyence, whiche hathe no naturall wytte. - - - _OF THE COURTEAR THAT ETE THE HOT CUSTARDE_ - -A certayne merchaunt and a courtear, _being upon a time together_ -at dyner having a hote custerd, _the courtear being_ somwhat -homely of maner toke _parte of it and put it_ in hys mouth, whych -was so hote that made him _shed teares._ The merchaunt, lookyng -on him, thought that he had _ben weeping, and asked hym why_ he -wept. This curtear, not wyllynge it to be _known that he had brent -his_ mouth with the hote custerd, answered and said, sir: _quod -he, I had_ a brother whych dyd a certayn offence wherfore he was -hanged; _and, chauncing_ to think now uppon his deth, it maketh -me to wepe. This merchaunt thought the courtear had said trew, and -anon after the merchaunt was disposid to ete _of the custerd_, -and put a sponefull of it in his mouth, and brent his mouth also, that -his _eyes watered_. This courtear, that percevyng, spake to the -merchaunt and seyd: sir, quod _he, pray_ why do ye wepe now? The -merchaunt perseyved how he had _bene deceived_ and said: mary, -quod he, I wepe, because thou wast not hangid, _when that_ they -brother was hangyd. - - - _OF HYM THAT SOUGHT HIS WYFE AGAYNST THE STREME_ - -A man there was whose wyfe, as she came over a bridg, fell in to the -ryver and was drowned; wherfore he wente and sought for her upward -against the stream, wherat his neighboures, that wente with hym, -marvayled, and sayde he dyd nought, he shulde go seke her downeward -with the streme. Naye, quod he, I am sure I shall never fynde her that -waye: for she was so waywarde and so contrary to every thynge, while -she lyvedde, that I knowe very well nowe she is deed, she wyll go a -gaynste the stream. - - - _OF THE FOOLE THAT THOUGHT HYM SELFE DEED_ - -There was a felowe dwellynge at Florence, called Nigniaca, whiche was -nat verye wyse, nor all a foole, but merye and jocunde. A sorte of -yonge men, for to laughe and pastyme, appoynted to gether to make hym -beleve that he was sycke. So, whan they were agreed howe they wolde do, -one of them mette hym in the mornynge, as he came out of his house, and -bad him good morowe, and than asked him, if he were nat yl at ease? No, -quod the foole, I ayle nothynge, I thanke God. By my faith, ye have a -sickely pale colour, quod the other, and wente his waye. - -Anone after, an other of them mette hym, and asked hym if he had nat an -ague: for your face and colour (quod he) sheweth that ye be very sycke. -Than the foole beganne a lyttel to doubt, whether he were sycke or no: -for he halfe beleved that they sayd trouth. Whan he had gone a lytel -farther, the thyrde man mette hym, and sayde: Jesu! manne, what do you -out of your bed? ye loke as ye wolde nat lyve an houre to an ende. Nowe -he doubted greatly, and thought verily in his mynde, that he had hadde -some sharpe ague; wherfore he stode styll and wolde go no further; and, -as he stode, the fourth man came and sayde: Jesu! man, what dost thou -here, and arte so sycke? Gette the home to thy bedde: for I parceyve -thou canste nat lyve an houre to an ende. Than the foles harte beganne -to feynte, and [he] prayde this laste man that came to hym to helpe -hym home. Yes, quod he, I wyll do as moche for the as for myn owne -brother. So home he brought hym, and layde hym in his bed, and than he -fared with hym selfe, as thoughe he wolde gyve up the gooste. Forth -with came the other felowes, and saide he hadde well done to lay hym in -his bedde. Anone after, came one whiche toke on hym to be a phisitian; -whiche, touchynge the pulse, sayde the malady was so vehement, that he -coulde nat lyve an houre. So they, standynge aboute the bedde, sayde -one to an other: nowe he gothe his waye: for his speche and syght fayle -him; by and by he wyll yelde up the goste. Therfore lette us close his -eyes, and laye his hands a crosse, and cary hym forth to be buryed. -And than they sayde lamentynge one to an other: O! what a losse have we -of this good felowe, our frende? - -The foole laye stylle, as one [that] were deade; yea, and thought in -his mynde, that he was deade in dede. So they layde hym on a bere, and -caryed hym through the cite. And whan any body asked them what they -caryed, they sayd the corps of Nigniaca to his grave. And ever as they -went, people drew about them. Among the prece ther was a taverners boy, -the whiche, whan he herde that it was the cors of Nigniaca, he said to -them: O! what a vile bestly knave, and what a stronge thefe is deed! by -the masse, he was well worthy to have ben hanged longe ago. Whan the -fole harde those wordes, he put out his heed and sayd: I wys, horeson, -if I were alyve nowe, as I am deed, I wolde prove the a false lyer to -thy face. They, that caryed him, began to laugh so hartilye, that they -sette downe the bere, and wente theyr waye. - -By this tale ye maye se, what the perswasion of many doth. Certaynly he -is very wyse, that is nat inclined to foly, if he be stered thereunto -by a multitude. Yet sapience is founde in fewe persones: and they be -lyghtly olde sobre men. - - * * * * * - -A few further bits are added, being witty sayings from Camden, Bacon -and the Jest Books and manuscripts of the period. - - * * * * * - -Queen Elizabeth seeing a gentleman in her garden, who had not felt -the effect of her favours so soon as he expected, looking out of her -window, said to him, in Italian, “What does a man think of, Sir Edward, -when he thinks of nothing?” After a little pause, he answered, “He -thinks, Madam, of a woman’s promise.” The queen shrunk in her head, but -was heard to say, _Well, Sir Edward, I must not confute you: Anger -makes dull men witty, but it keeps them poor_. - - * * * * * - -A certain nobleman sold a gentleman a horse for a good round sum, which -he took upon his lordship’s word, that he had no fault. About three -weeks after, he met my lord; “Why, your lordship told me,” says he, -“that your horse had no fault, and he is blind of an eye.” _Well, -Sir_, says my lord, _it is no fault, it is only a misfortune_. - - * * * * * - -A doctor of little learning, and less modesty, having talked much at -table; one, much admiring him, asked another, when the doctor was gone, -if he did not think him a great scholar? The answer was, _He may be -learned, for aught I know, or can discover; but I never heard learning -make such a noise_. - - * * * * * - -Sir Drue Drury called for tobacco-pipes at a tavern. The waiter brought -some, and, in laying them down on the table, broke most of them. Sir -Drue swore a great oath, that they were made of the same metal with -the Commandments. “Why so?” says one. _Because they are so soon -broken._ - - * * * * * - -A rich usurer was very lame of one of his legs, and yet nothing of hurt -outwardly to be seen, whereupon he sent for a surgeon for his advice; -who, being more honest than ordinary, told him, “It was in vain to -meddle with it, for it was only old age that was the cause.” _But why -then_ (said the usurer) _should not my other leg be as lame as -this, seeing that the one is no older than the other?_ - - * * * * * - -A gentleman disputing about religion in Button’s Coffeehouse, some of -the company said, “You talk of religion! I will hold you five guineas, -you cannot repeat the Lord’s prayer; Sir Richard Steele here shall hold -stakes.” The money being deposited, the gentleman began, _I believe -in God_; and so went through his Creed. _Well_, said the other, -_I own I have lost, but I did not think that you could have done -it_. - - * * * * * - -A gentleman calling for small-beer at another gentleman’s table, -finding it very hard, gave it the servant again without drinking. -“What,” said the master of the house, “do you not like the beer?” _It -is not to be found fault with_, answered the other, _for one -should never speak ill of the dead_. - -Some gentlemen being at a tavern together, for want of better -diversion, some proposed play; but, said another of the company, “I -have fourteen good reasons against gaming.” “What are those,” said -another? “In the first place,” answered he, _I have no Money_. -_Oh!_ said the first, _if you had four hundred reasons, you need -not name another_. - - * * * * * - -Quin used to apply a story to the then ministry. A master of a brig -calls out, _Who is there?_ A boy answered, _Will, Sir.--What are -you doing?--Nothing, Sir.--Is Tom there?--Yes_, says Tom.--_What -are you doing, Tom?--Helping Will, Sir._ - - * * * * * - -A gentleman, passing a woman who was skinning eels, and observing the -torture of the poor animals, asked her, how she could have the heart to -put them to such pain. _Ah_, said she, _poor creatures! they be -used to it_. - - * * * * * - -A silly priest at Trumpington being to read that place, _Eli, Eli, -Lamasabachthani_, began to consider with himself, that it might -be ridiculous and absurd for him to read it as it stood, because he -was vicar of Trumpington, and not of Ely: and therefore he read it, -_Trumpington, Trumpington, Lamasabachthani_. - - * * * * * - -It seems impossible, right here, not to digress, chronologically, for a -moment. - -Every one will have noticed that these old time jests are the -foundations on which many modern stories are built, but the last one -quoted above is so palpably the prototype of a current Boston story -that it must be told. - - * * * * * - -A small child named Halliwell, spending the night with a neighbor, Mrs. -Cabot, knelt at the knee of her hostess to say her evening prayer. - -“Our Father who art in Heaven,” the little visitor began devoutly, -“Cabot be thy name--” - -“What? What do you mean?” asked the startled lady. - -“Oh,” said the child, “of course, at home, I say ‘Halliwell be thy -name,’ but here, I thought it more polite to say Cabot.” - - * * * * * - -It is held by most writers on the subject that the great influx of -humor into literature took place in the latter half of the sixteenth -century. - -This is partly because the progressing art of printing brought about -the influx of many elements into literature at that time, and also -because then appeared the work of three of the greatest of the world’s -humorists. - -Shakespeare in England, Rabelais in France and Cervantes in Spain, gave -us their immortal works. - -Earlier in the century Thomas More in his _Utopia_ and Nicholas -Udall in his _Ralph Royster Doyster_ wrote in humorously satiric -vein, but these works are difficult to quote from satisfactorily. - -Having reached the period when Humor began to be produced in various -countries independently of one another, it becomes necessary to modify -our strict chronological arrangement and consider the nations and their -humorists separately. - -Before this, broadly speaking, literature should be considered as a -whole, but as great names began to appear in certain widely separated -localities, a national division must be made. - -And so, continuing in England, we come to William Shakespeare. - -With Shakespeare’s greatness as a poet and dramatist we are not here -concerned, but there are some critics who dispute his preeminence as a -humorist. - -While Hazlitt declared that in his opinion Molière was as great or -greater than Shakespeare as a comic genius; Doctor Johnson, on the -other hand, held that Shakespeare’s comedies are better than his -tragedies. - -However, few are found to support Johnson’s opinion, and Hazlitt -qualifies his by saying that as Shakespeare’s imagination and poetry -were the master qualities of his mind, the ludicrous was forced to take -second place. - -Both these worthies, however, agree on the question of Falstaff’s -greatness, and Hazlitt takes this attitude. - -“I would not be understood to say that there are not scenes or whole -characters in Shakespeare equal in wit and drollery to anything upon -record. Falstaff alone is an instance, which, if I would, I could not -get over. He is the leviathan of all the creatures of the author’s -comic genius, and tumbles about his unwieldy bulk in an ocean of wit -and humour. But in general it will be found (if I am not mistaken), -that even in the very best of these the spirit of humanity and the -fancy of the poet greatly prevail over the mere wit and satire, and -that we sympathize with his characters oftener than we laugh at them. -His ridicule wants the sting of ill-nature. He had hardly such a thing -as spleen in his composition. Falstaff himself is so great a joke, -rather from his being so huge a mass of enjoyment than of absurdity.” - -While with equal perceptive judgment “Falstaff,” says Dr. Johnson, -“unimitated, unimitable Falstaff, how shall I describe thee? Thou -compound of sense and vice; of sense which may be admired but not -esteemed; of vice which may be despised, but hardly detested! Falstaff -... is a thief and a glutton, a coward and a boaster, always ready to -cheat the weak and prey upon the poor; to terrify the timorous and -insult the defenceless. At once obsequious and malignant, he satirizes -in their absence those whom he lives by flattering.... Yet the man thus -corrupt, thus despicable, makes himself necessary to the Prince that -despises him, by the most pleasing of all qualities, perpetual gaiety, -by an unfailing power of exciting laughter, which is the more freely -indulged, as his wit is not of the splendid or ambitious kind, but -consists in easy scapes and sallies of levity, which make sport, but -raise no envy.” - -One of the most difficult of all poets to quote from, we can only offer -detached and fugitive fragments of Shakespeare’s plays; beginning with -a bit quoted by Hazlitt and accompanied by his delightful observations -thereon. - -“Shakespeare takes up the meanest subjects with the same tenderness -that we do an insect’s wing, and would not kill a fly. To give a more -particular instance of what I mean, I will take the inimitable and -affecting, though most absurd and ludicrous dialogue, between Shallow -and Silence, on the death of old Double.” - - * * * * * - -_Shallow._ Come on, come on, come on; give me your hand, sir; give -me your hand, sir; an early stirrer, by the rood. And how doth my good -cousin Silence? - -_Silence._ Good morrow, good cousin Shallow. - -_Shallow._ And how doth my cousin, your bedfellow? and your -fairest daughter, and mine, my god-daughter Ellen? - -_Silence._ Alas, a black ouzel, cousin Shallow. - -_Shallow._ By yea and nay, sir; I dare say, my cousin William is -become a good scholar: he is at Oxford still, is he not? - -_Silence._ Indeed, sir, to my cost. - -_Shallow._ He must then to the inns of court shortly. I was once -of Clement’s inn; where, I think, they will talk of mad Shallow yet. - -_Silence._ You were called lusty Shallow then, cousin. - -_Shallow._ I was called anything, and I would have done anything -indeed, and roundly too. There was I, and little John Doit of -Staffordshire, and black George Bare, and Francis Pickbone, and Will -Squele, a Cotswold man, you had not four such swinge-bucklers in all -the inns of court again; and, I may say to you, we knew where the -bonarobas were, and had the best of them all at commandment. Then was -Jack Falstaff, now Sir John, a boy, and page to Thomas Mowbray, Duke of -Norfolk. - -_Silence._ This Sir John, cousin, that comes hither anon about -soldiers? - -_Shallow._ The same Sir John, the very same: I saw him break -Schoggan’s head at the court-gate, when he was a crack, not thus -high; and the very same day did I fight with one Sampson Stockfish, a -fruiterer, behind Gray’s-inn. O, the mad days that I have spent! and to -see how many of mine old acquaintances are dead! - -_Silence._ We shall all follow, cousin. - -_Shallow._ Certain, ’tis certain, very sure, very sure: death (as -the Psalmist saith) is certain to all, all shall die.--How a good yoke -of bullocks at Stamford fair? - -_Silence._ Truly cousin, I was not there. - -_Shallow._ Death is certain. Is old Double of your town living yet? - -_Silence._ Dead, sir. - -_Shallow._ Dead! see, see! he drew a good bow; and dead? he shot -a fine shoot. John of Gaunt loved him well, and betted much money on -his head. Dead! he would have clapped i’ th’ clout at twelve score; and -carried you a forehand shaft a fourteen and a half, that it would have -done a man’s heart good to see.--How a score of ewes now? - -_Silence._ Thereafter as they be: a score of good ewes may be -worth ten pounds. - -_Shallow._ And is old Double dead? - - * * * * * - -There is not anything more characteristic than this in all Shakespeare. -A finer sermon on mortality was never preached. We see the frail -condition of human life, and the weakness of the human understanding -in Shallow’s reflections on it; who, while the past is sliding -from beneath his feet, still clings to the present. The meanest -circumstances are shown through an atmosphere of abstraction that -dignifies them: their very insignificance makes them more affecting, -for they instantly put a check on our aspiring thoughts, and remind us -that, seen through that dim perspective, the difference between the -great and little, the wise and foolish, is not much. ‘One touch of -nature makes the whole world kin’: and old Double, though his exploits -had been greater, could but have had his day. There is a pathetic -_naïveté_ mixed up with Shallow’s commonplace reflections and -impertinent digressions. The reader laughs (as well he may) in reading -the passage, but he lays down the book to think. The wit, however -diverting, is social and humane. But this is not the distinguishing -characteristic of wit, which is generally provoked by folly, and spends -its venom upon vice. - -The fault, then, of Shakespeare’s comic Muse is, in my opinion, that it -is too good-natured and magnanimous. It mounts above its quarry. It is -‘apprehensive, quick, forgetive, full of nimble, fiery, and delectable -shapes’: but it does not take the highest pleasure in making human -nature look as mean, as ridiculous, and contemptible as possible. It is -in this respect, chiefly, that it differs from the comedy of a later, -and (what is called) a more refined period.” - - - _FROM HENRY IV, PART I_ - -_Enter_ HENRY _Prince of Wales and_ SIR JOHN FALSTAFF. - -_Falstaff._ Now, Hal, what time of day is it, lad? - -_Prince Henry._ Thou art so fat-witted with drinking of old -sack, and unbuttoning thee after supper, and sleeping upon benches -after noon, that thou hast forgotten to demand that truly which thou -wouldst truly know. What a devil hast thou to do with the time of the -day? Unless hours were cups of sack, and minutes capons, and clocks -the tongues of bawds, and dials the signs of leaping-houses, and the -blessed sun himself a fair hot wench in flame-colored taffata, I see no -reason why thou should’st be so superfluous to demand the time of the -day. - -_Falstaff._ Indeed, you come near me now, Hal; for we that take -purses, go by the moon and seven stars; and not by Phœbus--he, “that -wand’ring knight so fair.” And, I pray thee, sweet wag, when thou art -king, as God save thy grace (majesty I should say; for grace thou wilt -have none)-- - -_Prince Henry._ What! none? - -_Falstaff._ No, by my troth; not so much as will serve to be -prologue to an egg and butter. - -_Prince Henry._ Well, how then? come, roundly, roundly. - -_Falstaff._ Marry, then, sweet wag, when thou art king, let not us -that are squires of the night’s body, be called thieves of the day’s -beauty; let us be--Diana’s foresters, gentlemen of the shade, minions -of the moon: and let men say, we be men of good government; being -governed, as the sea is, by our noble and chaste mistress the moon, -under whose countenance we--steal. - -_Prince Henry._ Thou say’st well, and it holds well, too; for the -fortune of us, that are the moon’s men, doth ebb and flow like the sea; -being governed as the sea is, by the moon. As, for proof, now, a purse -of gold most resolutely snatched on Monday night, and most dissolutely -spent on Tuesday morning; got with swearing--_lay by_; and spent -with crying--_bring in_; now, in as low an ebb as the foot of the -ladder; and, by and by, in as high a flow as the ridge of the gallows. - -_Falstaff._ By the Lord, thou say’st true, lad. And is not my -hostess of the tavern a most sweet wench? - -_Prince Henry._ As the honey of Hybla, my old lad of the castle. -And is not a buff jerkin a most sweet robe of durance? - -_Falstaff._ How now, how now, mad wag? what, in thy quips and thy -quiddities? what a plague have I to do with a buff jerkin? - -_Prince Henry._ Why, what a pox have I to do with my hostess of -the tavern? - -_Falstaff._ Well, thou hast called her to a reckoning many a time -and oft. - -_Prince Henry._ Did I ever call for thee to pay thy part? - -_Falstaff._ No, I’ll give thee thy due, thou hast paid all there. - -_Prince Henry._ Yea, and elsewhere, so far as my coin would -stretch; and where it would not I have used my credit. - -_Falstaff._ Yea, and so used it, that, were it not here apparent -that thou art heir apparent,--But, I pr’ythee, sweet wag, shall there -be gallows standing in England when thou art king? and resolution thus -fobbed as it is, with the rusty curb of old father antic the law? Do -not thou, when thou art king, hang a thief. - -_Prince Henry._ No; thou shalt. - -_Falstaff._ Shall I? Oh, rare! By the Lord, I’ll be a brave judge. - -_Prince Henry._ Thou judgest false already; I mean thou shalt have -the hanging of the thieves, and so become a rare hangman. - -_Falstaff._ Well, Hal, well; and in some sort it jumps with my -humor, as well as waiting in the court, I can tell you. - -_Prince Henry._ For obtaining of suits? - -_Falstaff._ Yea, for obtaining of suits; whereof the hangman hath -no lean wardrobe. ’Sblood, I am as melancholy as a gib-cat or a lugged -bear. - -_Prince Henry._ Or an old lion; or a lover’s lute. - -_Falstaff._ Yea, or the drone of a Lincolnshire bagpipe. - -_Prince Henry._ What say’st thou to a hare, or the melancholy of -Moor-ditch. - -_Falstaff._ Thou hast the most unsavory similes; and art, indeed, -the most comparative, rascalliest,--sweet young prince,--But Hal, I -pr’ythee trouble me no more with vanity. I would to God thou and I -knew where a commodity of good names were to be bought: an old lord of -the council rated me the other day in the street about you, sir; but I -marked him not; and yet he talked very wisely; but I regarded him not: -and yet he talked wisely, and in the street too. - -_Prince Henry._ Thou didst well; for wisdom cries out in the -streets and no man regards it. - -_Falstaff._ Oh, thou hast damnable iteration; and art, indeed, -able to corrupt a saint. Thou hast done much harm upon me, Hal,--God -forgive thee for it! Before I knew thee, Hal, I knew nothing; and -now am I, if a man should speak truly, little better than one of the -wicked. I must give over this life, and I will give it over; by the -Lord, and I do not, I am a villain; I’ll be damned for never a king’s -son in Christendom. - -_Prince Henry._ Where shall we take a purse tomorrow, Jack? - -_Falstaff._ Zounds, where thou wilt, lad; I’ll make one; an I do -not, call me villain, and baffle me. - -_Prince Henry._ I see a good amendment of life in thee; from -praying to purse-taking. - - - _FROM MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING_ - - CONRADE, BORACHIO, DOGBERRY, VERGES, SEXTON, _and the_ - WATCH. - -_Dogberry._ Is our whole dissembly appeared? - -_Verges._ Oh, a stool and a cushion for the sexton! - -_Sexton._ Which be the malefactors? - -_Dogberry._ Marry, that am I and my partner. - -_Verges._ Nay, that’s certain. We have the exhibition to examine. - -_Sexton._ But which are the offenders that are to be examined? Let -them come before master constable. - -_Dogberry._ Yea, marry, let them come before me. What is your -name, friend? - -_Borachio._ Borachio. - -_Dogberry._ Pray, write down--Borachio.--Yours, sirrah? - -_Conrade._ I am a gentleman, sir, and my name is Conrade. - -_Dogberry._ Write down--master gentleman Conrade.--Masters, do you -serve God? - -_Conrade, Borachio._ Yea, sir, we hope. - -_Dogberry._ Write down--that they hope they serve God. And -write God first; for God defend but God should go before such -villains!--Masters, it is proved already that you are little better -than false knaves; and it will go near to be thought so shortly. How -answer you for yourselves? - -_Conrade._ Marry, sir, we are none. - -_Dogberry._ A marvellous witty fellow, I assure you; but I will go -about with him.--Come you hither, sirrah; a word in your ear, sir; I -say to you, it is thought you are false knaves. - -_Borachio._ Sir, I say to you, we are none. - -_Dogberry._ Well, stand aside.--’Fore God, they are both in a -tale. Have you writ down, that they are none? - -_Sexton._ Master constable, you go not the way to examine: you -must call forth the watch that are their accusers. - -_Dogberry._ Yea, marry, that’s the eftest way.--Let the watch come -forth.--Masters, I charge you, in the prince’s name, accuse these men. - -_1st Watch._ This man said, sir, that Don John, the prince’s -brother, was a villain. - -_Dogberry._ Write down--Prince John a villain. Why, this is flat -perjury, to call a prince’s brother villain. - -_Borachio._ Master constable-- - -_Dogberry._ Pray thee, fellow, peace: I do not like thy look, I -promise thee. - -_Sexton._ What heard you him say else? - -_2d Watch._ Marry, that he had received a thousand ducats of Don -John, for accusing the Lady Hero wrongfully. - -_Dogberry._ Flat burglary as ever was committed! - -_Verges._ Yea, by the mass, that it is. - -_Sexton._ What else, fellow? - -_1st Watch._ And that Count Claudio did mean, upon his words, to -disgrace Hero before the whole assembly, and not marry her. - -_Dogberry._ O villain! thou wilt be condemned into everlasting -redemption for this. - -_Sexton._ What else? - -_2d Watch._ This is all. - -_Sexton._ And this is more, masters, than you can deny. Prince -John is this morning secretly stolen away; Hero was in this manner -accused, in this very manner refused, and, upon the grief of this, -suddenly died.--Master constable, let these men be bound, and brought -to Leonato’s: I will go before, and show him their examination. - (_Exit._) - -_Dogberry._ Come, let them be opinioned. - -_Verges._ Let them be in the hands-- - -_Conrade._ Off, coxcomb! - -_Dogberry._ God’s my life! Where’s the sexton? Let him write -down--the prince’s officer, coxcomb.--Come, bind them.--Thou naughty -varlet! - -_Conrade._ Away! You are an ass! you are an ass! - -_Dogberry._ Dost thou not suspect my place? Dost thou not suspect -my years?--Oh, that he were here to write me down an ass!--But, -masters, remember that I am an ass; though it be not written down, yet -forget not than I am an ass.--No, thou villain, thou art full of piety, -as shall be proved upon thee by good witness. I am a wise fellow; -and, which is more, an officer; and, which is more, a householder; -and, which is more, as pretty a piece of flesh as any in Messina; -and one that knows the law, go to; and a rich fellow enough, go to; -and a fellow that hath had losses; and one that hath two gowns, and -everything handsome about him.--Bring him away.--Oh, that I had been -writ down an ass! - - - _FROM THE MERCHANT OF VENICE_ - -_Launcelot._ Certainly, my conscience will serve me to run this -Jew my master. The fiend is at mine elbow, and tempts me, saying to -me, “Gobbo, Launcelot Gobbo, good Launcelot,” or “good Gobbo,” or -“good Launcelot Gobbo, use your legs, take the start, run away.” My -conscience says, “No; take heed, honest Launcelot; take heed, honest -Gobbo”; or, as aforesaid, “honest Launcelot Gobbo; do not run; scorn -running with thy heels.” Well, the most courageous fiend bids me pack: -“Via!” says the fiend; “away!” says the fiend; “for the heavens, rouse -up a brave mind,” says the fiend, “and run.” Well, my conscience, -hanging about the neck of my heart, says very wisely to me, “My honest -friend Launcelot, being an honest man’s son,” or rather an honest -woman’s son; for, indeed, my father did something smack--something -grow to--he had a kind of taste--well, my conscience says, “Launcelot, -budge not.” “Budge,” says the fiend. “Budge not,” says my conscience. -“Conscience,” say I, “you counsel well.” “Fiend,” say I, “you counsel -well.” To be ruled by my conscience, I should stay with the Jew my -master, who--God bless the mark!--is a kind of devil; and to run -away from the Jew, I should be ruled by the fiend, who, saving your -reverence, is the devil himself. Certainly, the Jew is the very devil -incarnation; and, in my conscience, my conscience is a kind of hard -conscience to offer to counsel me to stay with the Jew. The fiend gives -the more friendly counsel: I will run, fiend; my heels are at your -commandment; I will run. - - - _FROM HAMLET_ - - POLONIUS _and_ HAMLET, _reading_. - -_Polonius._ How does my good Lord Hamlet? - -_Hamlet._ Well, God-’a’-mercy. - -_Polonius._ Do you know me, my lord? - -_Hamlet._ Excellent well; you are a fishmonger - -_Polonius._ Not I, my lord. - -_Hamlet._ Then I would you were so honest a man. - -_Polonius._ Honest, my lord? - -_Hamlet._ Ay, sir: to be honest, as this world goes, is to be one -man picked out of ten thousand. - -_Polonius._ That’s very true, my lord. - -_Hamlet._ For if the sun breed maggots in a dead dog, being a good -kissing carrion--Have you a daughter? - -_Polonius._ I have, my lord. - -_Hamlet._ Let her not walk i’ the sun: conception is a blessing; -but not as your daughter may conceive. Friend, look to’t. - -_Polonius._ How say you by that? (_Aside._) Still harping on -my daughter. Yet he knew me not at first; he said I was a fishmonger. -He is far gone, far gone: and truly in my youth I suffered much -extremity for love; very near this. I’ll speak to him again.--What do -you read, my lord? - -_Hamlet._ Words, words, words. - -_Polonius._ What is the matter, my lord? - -_Hamlet._ Between who? - -_Polonius._ I mean the matter that you read, my lord. - -_Hamlet._ Slanders, sir. For the satirical slave says here, that -old men have gray beards; that their faces are wrinkled; their eyes -purging thick amber or plum-tree gum; and that they have a plentiful -lack of wit, together with weak hams. All of which, sir, though I most -powerfully and potently believe, yet I hold it not honesty to have it -thus set down; for you yourself, sir, shall grow old as I am: if, like -a crab, you could go backward. - -_Polonius._ (_Aside._) Though this be madness, yet there is -method in’t.--Will you walk out o’ the air, my lord? - -_Hamlet._ Into my grave? - -_Polonius._ Indeed, that is out o’ the air. (_Aside._) How -pregnant sometimes his replies are! A happiness that often madness hits -on, which reason and sanity could not so prosperously be delivered of. -I will leave him, and suddenly contrive the means of meeting between -him and my daughter.--My honourable lord, I will most humbly take my -leave of you. - -_Hamlet._ You cannot, sir, take from me anything that I will more -willingly part withal: except my life, except my life, except my life. - -_Polonius._ Fare you well, my lord. - -_Hamlet._ These tedious old fools! - - - _FROM AS YOU LIKE IT_ - - ROSALIND _and_ ORLANDO - -_Rosalind._ (_Aside._) I will speak to him like a saucy lackey, and -under that habit play the knave with him.--Do you hear, forester? - -_Orlando._ Very well: what would you? - -_Rosalind._ I pray you, what is’t o’clock? - -_Orlando._ You should ask me, what time o’ day: there’s no clock -in the forest. - -_Rosalind._ Then there is no true lover in the forest; else -sighing every minute, and groaning every hour, would detect the lazy -foot of Time as well as a clock. - -_Orlando._ And why not the swift foot of Time? Had not that been -as proper? - -_Rosalind._ By no means, sir. Time travels in divers paces with -divers persons. I’ll tell you, who Time ambles withal, who Time trots -withal, who Time gallops withal, and who he stands still withal. - -_Orlando._ I prithee, who doth he trot withal? - -_Rosalind._ Marry, he trots hard with a young maid, between the -contract of her marriage and the day it is solemnised: if the interim -be but a se’nnight, Time’s pace is so hard that it seems the length of -seven years. - -_Orlando._ Who ambles Time withal? - -_Rosalind._ With a priest that lacks Latin, and a rich man that -hath not the gout; for the one sleeps easily, because he cannot study; -and the other lives merrily, because he feels no pain: the one lacking -the burden of lean and wasteful learning; the other knowing no burden -of heavy, tedious penury. These Time ambles withal. - -_Orlando._ Who doth he gallop withal? - -_Rosalind._ With a thief to the gallows; for though he go as -softly as foot can fall, he thinks himself too soon there. - -_Orlando._ Who stays it still withal? - -_Rosalind._ With lawyers in the vacation; for they sleep between -term and term, and then they perceive not how Time moves. - -_Orlando._ Where dwell you, pretty youth? - -_Rosalind._ Here in the skirts of the forest, like fringe upon a -petticoat. - -_Orlando._ Are you native of this place? - -_Rosalind._ As the cony, that you see dwell where she is kindled. - -_Orlando._ Your accent is something finer than you could purchase -in so removed a dwelling. - -_Rosalind._ I have been told of so many: but, indeed, an old -religious uncle of mine taught me to speak, who was in his youth an -inland man; one that knew courtship too well, for there he fell in -love. I have heard him read many lectures against it; and I thank God -I am not a woman, to be touched with so many giddy offences as he hath -generally taxed their whole sex withal. - -_Orlando._ Can you remember any of the principal evils that he -laid to the charge of women? - -_Rosalind._ There were none principal: they were all like one -another, as half-pence are; every one fault seeming monstrous, till its -fellow fault came to match it. - -_Orlando._ I prithee, recount some of them. - -_Rosalind._ No; I will not cast away my physic but on those that -are sick. There is a man haunts the forest, that abuses our young -plants with carving Rosalind on their barks; hangs odes upon hawthorns, -and elegies on brambles; all, forsooth, deifying the name of Rosalind: -if I could meet that fancy-monger I would give him some good counsel, -for he seems to have the quotidian of love upon him. - -_Orlando._ I am he that is so love-shaked. I pray you, tell me -your remedy. - -_Rosalind._ There is none of my uncle’s marks upon you: he taught -me how to know a man in love; in which cage of rushes, I am sure, you -are not prisoner. - -_Orlando._ What were his marks? - -_Rosalind._ A lean cheek, which you have not; a blue eye, and -sunken, which you have not; an unquestionable spirit, which you have -not; a beard neglected, which you have not (but I pardon you for that, -for, simply, your having in beard is a younger brother’s revenue. -Then, your hose shall be ungartered, your bonnet unbanded, your sleeve -unbuttoned, your shoe untied, and everything about you demonstrating -a careless desolation. But you are no such man; you are rather -point-device in your accoutrements, as loving yourself, than seeming -the lover of any other. - -_Orlando._ Fair youth, I would I could make thee believe I love. - -_Rosalind._ Me believe it? You may as soon make her that you love -believe it; which, I warrant, she is apter to do than to confess she -does. That is one of the points in the which women still give the lie -to their consciences. But, in good sooth, are you he that hangs the -verses on the trees, wherein Rosalind is so admired? - -_Orlando._ I swear to thee, youth, by the white hand of Rosalind, -I am that he, that unfortunate he. - -_Rosalind._ But are you so much in love as your rhymes speak? - -_Orlando._ Neither rhyme nor reason can express how much. - -_Rosalind._ Love is merely a madness; and, I tell you, deserves as -well a dark house and a whip as madmen do. And the reason why they are -not so punished and cured is, that the lunacy is so ordinary that the -whippers are in love too. Yet I profess curing it by counsel. - -_Orlando._ Did you ever cure any so? - -_Rosalind._ Yes, one; and in this manner. He was to imagine me his -love, his mistress, and I set him every day to woo me: at which time -would I, being but a moonish youth, grieve, be effeminate, changeable, -longing, and liking; proud, fantastical, apish, shallow, inconstant, -full of tears, full of smiles; for every passion something, and for -no passion truly anything, as boys and women are, for the most part, -cattle of this colour: would now like him, now loathe him; then -entertain him, then forswear him; now weep for him, then spit at him; -that I drave my suitor from his mad humour of love, to a living humour -of madness, which was, to forswear the full stream of the world, and -to live in a nook merely monastic. And thus I cured him; and in this -way will I take upon me to wash your liver as clean as a sound sheep’s -heart, that there shall not be one spot of love in’t. - -_Orlando._ I would not be cured, youth. - -_Rosalind._ I would cure you, if you would but call me Rosalind, -and come every day to my cote, and woo me. - -_Orlando._ Now, by the faith of my love, I will. Tell me where it -is. - -_Rosalind._ Go with me to it, and I’ll show it you; and, by the -way, you shall tell me where in the forest you live. Will you go? - -_Orlando._ With all my heart, good youth. - - * * * * * - -Francis, Lord Bacon, gave us much wise writing, and, incidentally much -of the wit of wisdom, but we look to him in vain for laughable humor. - -A few epigrammatic selections from his essays are given. - - * * * * * - -All colours will agree in the dark. - - * * * * * - -This is certain, that a man that studieth revenge keepeth his own -wounds green, which otherwise would heal and do well. - - * * * * * - -Whosoever esteemeth too much of an amourous affection, quitteth both -riches and wisdom. - -Money is like muck: not good except it be spread. - - * * * * * - -Princes are like to heavenly bodies, which cause good or evil times, -and which have much veneration, and no rest. - - * * * * * - -Old men object too much, consult too long, adventure too little, repent -too soon. - - * * * * * - -To take advice of some few friends is ever honourable; for lookers-on -many times see more than gamesters. - - * * * * * - -Suspicions that the mind of itself gathers are but buzzes; but -suspicions that are artificially nourished and put into men’s heads by -the tales and whisperings of others, have stings. - - * * * * * - -Reading maketh a full man, conference a ready man, and writing an exact -man. And therefore, if man write little, he had need have a great -memory; if he confer little, he had need have a present wit; and if he -read little, he had need have much cunning to seem to know that which -he doth not. - - * * * * * - -Sir John Harington, chiefly remembered for his translation of -_Orlando Furioso_, wrote clever humorous verse. - - - _OF A PRECISE TAILOR_ - - A tailor, thought a man of upright dealing-- - True, but for lying, honest, but for stealing-- - Did fall one day extremely sick by chance, - And on the sudden was in wondrous trance. - The fiends of hell, mustering in fearful manner, - Of sundry coloured silks displayed a banner - Which he had stolen, and wished, as they did tell, - That he might find it all one day in hell. - The man, affrighted with this apparition, - Upon recovery grew a great precisian. - He bought a Bible of the best translation, - And in his life he showed great reformation; - He walked mannerly, he talked meekly, - He heard three lectures and two sermons weekly; - He vowed to shun all company unruly, - And in his speech he used no oath but “truly”; - And, zealously to keep the Sabbath’s rest, - His meat for that day on the eve was drest; - And, lest the custom which he had to steal - Might cause him sometimes to forget his zeal, - He gives his journeyman a special charge, - That if the stuff, allowance being large, - He found his fingers were to filch inclined, - Bid him to have the banner in his mind. - This done--I scant can tell the rest for laughter-- - A captain of a ship came three days after, - And brought three yards of velvet and three-quarters, - To make Venetians down below the garters. - He, that precisely knew what was enough, - Soon slipt aside three-quarters of the stuff. - His man, espying it, said, in derision, - “Master, remember how you saw the vision!” - “Peace, knave!” quoth he; “I did not see one rag - Of such a coloured silk in all the flag.” - - - _OF A CERTAIN MAN_ - - There was (not certain when) a certain preacher - That never learned, and yet became a teacher, - Who, having read in Latin thus a text - Of _erat quidam homo_, much perplext, - He seemed the same with studie great to scan, - In English thus: _There was a certain man._ - But now (quoth he), good people, note you this: - He saith there _was_--he doth not say there _is_; - For in these days of ours it is most plain - Of promise, oath, word, deed, no man’s certain; - Yet by my text you see it comes to pass - That surely once a certain man there was; - But yet, I think, in all your Bible no man - Can find this text, _There was a certain woman_. - -Ben Jonson, next to Shakespeare as a dramatist, is a master of satiric -wit. His strong, somewhat psychological comedies are difficult to quote -from except in long extracts. - - - _FROM “EVERY MAN IN HIS HUMOR”_ - -_Bobadil._ I will tell you, sir, by the way of private, and under -seal, I am a gentleman, and live here obscure, and to myself; but were -I known to her majesty and the lords (observe me), I would undertake, -upon this poor head and life, for the public benefit of the state, not -only to spare the entire lives of her subjects in general, but to save -the one-half, nay, three parts of her yearly charge in holding war, and -against what enemy soever. And how would I do it, think you? - -_E. Knowell._ Nay, I know not, nor can I conceive. - -_Bobadil._ Why, thus, sir. I would select nineteen more, to -myself, throughout the land; gentlemen they should be of good spirit, -strong and able constitution; I would choose them by an instinct, a -character that I have: and I would teach these nineteen the special -rules--as your punto, your reverso, your stoccata, your imbroccato, -your passado, your montanto--till they could all play very near, or -altogether as well as myself. This done, say the enemy were forty -thousand strong, we twenty would come into the field the tenth of -March, or thereabouts; and we would challenge twenty of the enemy; they -could not in their honor refuse us; well, we would kill them: challenge -twenty more, kill them; twenty more, kill them; twenty more, kill them -too; and thus would we kill every man his twenty a day, that’s twenty -score; twenty score, that’s two hundred; two hundred a day, five days -a thousand; forty thousand; forty times five, five times forty, two -hundred days kills them all up by computation. And this will I venture -my poor gentleman-like carcass to perform, provided there be no treason -practised upon us, by fair and discreet manhood; that is, civilly by -the sword. - - - _FROM “VOLPONE”_ - -_Volpone._ Lady, I kiss your bounty, and for this timely grace -you have done your poor Scoto, of Mantua, I will return you, over and -above my oil, a secret of that high and inestimable nature which shall -make you for ever enamoured on that minute, wherein your eye first -descended on so mean, yet not altogether to be despised, an object. -Here is a powder concealed in this paper, of which, if I should speak -to the worth, nine thousand volumes were but as one page, that page as -a line, that line as a word; so short is this pilgrimage of man, which -some call life, to the expression of it. Would I reflect on the price? -Why, the whole world is but as an empire, that empire as a province, -that province as a bank, that bank as a private purse to the purchase -of it. I will only tell you it is the powder that made Venus a goddess, -given her by Apollo, that kept her perpetually young, cleared her -wrinkles, firmed her gums, filled her skin, coloured her hair, from her -derived to Helen, and at the sack of Troy unfortunately lost: till now, -in this our age, it was as happily recovered, by a studious antiquary, -out of some ruins of Asia, who sent a moiety of it to the Court of -France, but much sophisticated, wherewith the ladies there now colour -their hair. The rest, at this present, remains with me, extracted to a -quintessence; so that, wherever it but touches in youth it perpetually -preserves, in age restores the complexion; seats your teeth, did they -dance like virginal jacks, firm as a wall; makes them white as ivory, -that were black as coal. - - - _A VINTNER_, - -To whom Jonson was in debt, told him that he would excuse the payment, -if he could give an immediate answer to the following questions: What -God is best pleased with; what the devil is best pleased with: what the -world is best pleased with; and what he was best pleased with. Jonson, -without hesitation, replied thus: - - God is best pleas’d, when men forsake their sin; - The devil’s best pleas’d, when they persist therein: - The world’s best pleas’d, when thou dost sell good wine; - And you’re best pleas’d, when I do pay for mine. - -It was the fashion to flatter in those days, and King James had -abundance of such incense offered to him, though according to Ben -Jonson it was impossible to _flatter_ so perfect a monarch. -The dramatist addressed the following epigram _To the Ghost of -Martial_ (Ep. 36): - - Martial, thou gav’st far nobler epigrams - To thy Domitian, than I can my James: - But in my royal subject I pass thee, - Thou flattered’st thine, mine cannot flatter’d be. - -A thought which has been humorously expanded by Ben Jonson (Ep. 42): - - Who says that Giles and Joan at discord be? - Th’ observing neighbours no such mood can see. - Indeed, poor Giles repents he married ever; - But that his Joan doth too. And Giles would never - By his free will be in Joan’s company; - No more would Joan he should. Giles riseth early, - And having got him out of doors is glad; - The like is Joan. But turning home is sad; - And so is Joan. Oft-times when Giles doth find - Harsh sights at home, Giles wisheth he were blind; - All this doth Joan. Or that his long-yearn’d life - Were quite outspun; the like wish hath his wife. - - * * * * * - - If now, with man and wife, to will and nill - The self-same things, a note of concord be, - I know no couple better can agree. - -John Donne, one of the greatest preachers of the English church, was -also a noted wit, poet and courtier. Like his contemporaries his wit -was satirical, but in more playful vein than most. - - - _THE WILL_ - - Before I sigh my last gasp, let me breathe, - Great Love, some legacies: Here I bequeathe - Mine eyes to Argus, if mine eyes can see; - If they be blind, then, Love, I give them thee; - My tongue to fame; to embassadors mine ears; - To women or the sea, my tears. - Thou, Love, hast taught me heretofore, - By making me serve her who had twenty more, - That I should give to none but such as had too much before. - - My constancy I to the planets give; - My truth to them who at the court do live; - My ingenuity and openness - To Jesuits; to buffoons my pensiveness; - My silence to any who abroad have been; - My money to a Capuchin. - Thou, Love, taught’st me, by appointing me - To love there where no love received can be, - Only to give to such as have an incapacity. - - My faith I give to Roman Catholics; - All my good works unto the schismatics - Of Amsterdam; my best civility - And courtship to a university; - My modesty I give to soldiers bare; - My patience let gamesters share. - Thou, Love taught’st me, by making me - Love her that holds my love disparity, - Only to give to those that count my gifts indignity. - - I give my reputation to those - Which were my friends; mine industry to foes; - To schoolmen I bequeathe my doubtfulness; - My sickness to physicians, or excess; - To Nature all that I in rhyme have writ; - And to my company my wit. - Thou, Love, by making me adore - Her who begot this love in me before, - Taught’st me to make as though I gave, when I do but restore. - - To him for whom the passing bell next tolls - I give my physic-books; my written rolls - Of moral counsel I to Bedlam give; - My brazen medals unto them which live - In want of bread; to them which pass among - All foreigners, mine English tongue. - Thou, Love, by making me love one - Who thinks her friendship a fit portion - For younger lovers, dost my gifts thus disproportion. - - Therefore I’ll give no more, but I’ll undo - The world by dying, because love dies too. - Then all your beauties will no more be worth - Than gold in mines where none doth draw it forth; - And all your graces no more use shall have - Than a sundial in a grave. - Thou, Love, taught’st me, by making me - Love her who doth neglect both thee and me, - To invent and practise this one way to annihilate all three. - -Thomas Dekker was a prolific dramatic author of the period, and his -satirical characterizations are among the wittiest of his day. - - - _OBEDIENT HUSBANDS_ - -There is a humour incident to a woman, which is, when a young man -hath turmoiled himself so long that with much ado he hath gotten -into marriage, and hath perhaps met with a wife according to his own -desire, and perchance such an one that it had been better for him had -he lighted on another, yet he likes her so well that he would not have -missed her for any gold; for, in his opinion, there is no woman like -unto her. He hath a great delight to hear her speak, is proud of his -match, and is, peradventure, withal of so sheepish a nature, that he -has purposed to govern himself wholly by her counsel and direction, -so that if any one speak to him of a bargain, or whatsoever other -business, he tells them that he will have his wife’s opinion on it, and -if she be content, he will go through with it; if not, then will he -give it over. - -Thus he is as tame and pliable as a jackanapes to his keeper. If the -Prince set forth an army, and she be unwilling that he should go, -who (you may think) will ask her leave, then must he stay at home, -fight who will for the country. But if she be desirous at any time to -have his room (which many times she likes better than his company), -she wants no journey to employ him in, and he is as ready as a page -to undertake them. If she chide, he answers not a word; generally, -whatsoever she does, or howsoever, he thinks it well done. - -Judge, now, in what a case this silly calf is! Is not he, think you, -finely dressed, that is in such subjection? The honestest woman and -most modest of that sex, if she wear the breeches, is so out of reason -in taunting and controlling her husband--for this is their common -fault--and be she never so wise, yet a woman, scarce able to govern -herself, much less her husband and all his affairs; for, were it not -so, God would have made her the head. Which, since it is otherwise, -what can be more preposterous than that the head should be governed by -the foot? - -If, then, a wise and honest woman’s superiority be unseemly, and breed -great inconvenience, how is he dressed, think you, if he light on a -fond, wanton, and malicious dame? Then doubtless he is soundly sped. -She will keep a sweetheart under his nose, yet is he so blind that he -can perceive nothing. But, for more security, she will many times send -him packing beyond sea, about some odd errand that she will buzz in his -ears, and he will perform it at her pleasure, though she send him forth -at midnight, in hail, rain, and snow, for he must be a man for all -weathers. - -Their children, if they have any, must be brought up, apparelled, -taught, and fed according to her pleasure, and one point of their -learning is always to make no account of their father. Finally, she -orders all things as she thinks best herself, making no more account -of him, especially if he be in years, than men do of an old horse that -is put to labour. Thus is he mewed up, plunged in a sea of cares; -and yet he, kind fool, deems himself most happy in his happiness, -wherein he must now perforce remain while life doth last, and pity it -were he should want it, since he likes it so well.--_The Bachelor’s -Banquet._ - -Horace is thus amusingly introduced as in the act of concocting an ode: - - To thee whose forehead swells with roses, - Whose most haunted bower - Gives life and scent to every flower, - Whose most adoréd name encloses - Things abstruse, deep and divine; - Whose yellow tresses shine - Bright as Eoan fire. - Oh, me thy priest inspire! - For I to thee and thine immortal name, - In--in--in golden tunes, - For I to thee and thine immortal name-- - In--sacred raptures flowing, flowing, swimming, swimming: - In sacred raptures swimming, - Immortal name, game, dame, tame, lame, lame, lame, - [Foh,] hath, shame, proclaim, oh-- - In sacred raptures flowing, will proclaim [no!]. - Oh, me they priest inspire! - For I to thee and thine immortal name, - In flowing numbers filled with spright and flame (Good, good!) - In flowing numbers filled with spright and flame. - -John Fletcher is believed to have composed the greater part of the -plays by Beaumont and Fletcher. - -The _Laughing Song_ is attributed to Fletcher alone. - - - _LAUGHING SONG_ - - (_For several voices_) - - Oh how my lungs do tickle! ha ha ha! - Of how my lungs do tickle! ho ho ho ho! - Set a sharp jest - Against my breast, - Then how my lungs do tickle! - As nightingales, - And things in cambric rails, - Sing best against a prickle. - Ha ha ha ha! - Ho ho ho ho ho! - Laugh! Laugh! Laugh! Laugh! - Wide! Loud! And vary! - A smile is for a simpering novice,-- - One that ne’er tasted caviarë, - Nor knows the smack of dear anchovies. - Ha ha ha ha ha! - Ho ho ho ho ho! - A giggling waiting-wench for me, - That shows her teeth how white they be,-- - A thing not fit for gravity, - For theirs are foul and hardly three. - Ha ha ha! - Ho ho ho! - “Democritus, thou ancient fleerer, - How I miss thy laugh, and ha’ since!” - There thou named the famous[est] jeerer - That e’er jeered in Rome or Athens. - Ha ha ha! - Ho ho ho! - “How brave lives he that keeps a fool, - Although the rate be deeper!” - But he that is his own fool, sir, - Does live a great deal cheaper. - “Sure I shall burst, burst, quite break, - Thou art so witty.” - “’Tis rare to break at court, - For that belongs to the city.” - Ha ha! my spleen is almost worn - To the last laughter. - “Oh keep a corner for a friend! - A jest may come hereafter.” - -Bishop Corbet, more sociable and vivacious than many of his calling -wrote rollicking verses as well as wise and serious sermons. - -Perhaps this is the first known example of sheer nonsense verse. - - - _LIKE TO THE THUNDERING TONE_ - - Like to the thundering tone of unspoke speeches, - Or like a lobster clad in logic breeches, - Or like the gray fur of a crimson cat, - Or like the mooncalf in a slipshod hat; - E’en such is he who never was begotten - Until his children were both dead and rotten. - - Like to the fiery tombstone of a cabbage, - Or like a crab-louse with its bag and baggage, - Or like the four square circle of a ring, - Or like to hey ding, ding-a, ding-a, ding; - E’en such is he who spake, and yet, no doubt, - Spake to small purpose, when his tongue was out. - - Like to a fair, fresh, fading, wither’d rose, - Or like to rhyming verse that runs in prose, - Or like the stumbles of a tinder-box, - Or like a man that’s sound yet sickness mocks; - E’en such is he who died and yet did laugh - To see these lines writ for his epitaph. - -It may be that utter nonsense was more in vogue at this time than can -be definitely asserted, for such productions would, naturally, not be -preserved as were the more important matters. - -This anonymous bit of nonsense is said to have been written in 1617, -and may be from the pen of the same worthy Bishop. - - - _NONSENSE_ - - Oh, that my lungs could bleat like butter’d Pease; - But bleating of my lungs hath caught the itch, - And are as mangy as the Irish seas - That offer wary windmills to the Rich. - - I grant that Rainbowes being lull’d asleep, - Snort like a woodknife in a Lady’s eyes; - Which makes her grieve to see a pudding creep, - For Creeping puddings only please the wise. - - Not that a hard-row’d herring should presume - To swing a tyth pig in a Cateskin purse; - For fear the hailstons which did fall at Rome, - By lesning of the fault should make it worse. - - For ’tis most certain Winter woolsacks grow - From geese to swans if men could keep them so. - Till that the sheep shorn Planets gave the hint - To pickle pancakes in Geneva print. - - Some men there were that did suppose the skie - Was made of Carbonado’d Antidotes; - But my opinion is, a Whale’s left eye, - Need not be coynéd all King Harry groates. - - The reason’s plain, for Charon’s Westerne barge - Running a tilt at the Subjunctive mood, - Beckoned to Bednal Green, and gave him charge - To fasten padlockes with Antartic food. - - The End will be the Mill ponds must be laded, - To fish for white pots in a Country dance; - So they that suffered wrong and were upbraded - Shall be made friends in a left-handed trance. - -A charming lyric by Bishop Corbet is: - - - _FAREWELL TO THE FAIRIES_ - - “Farewell, rewards and fairies!” - Good housewives now may say, - For now foul sluts in dairies - Do fare as well as they. - And, though they sweep their hearths no less - Than maids were wont to do, - Yet who of late, for cleanliness, - Finds sixpence in her shoe? - - Lament, lament, old Abbeys, - The fairies lost command! - They did but change priests’ babies, - But some have changed your land; - And all your children stoln from thence - Are now grown Puritans; - Who live as changelings ever since, - For love of your domains. - - At morning and at evening both, - You merry were and glad, - So little care of sleep or sloth - These pretty ladies had; - When Tom came home from labour, - Or Cis to milking rose, - Then merrily went their tabor, - And nimbly went their toes. - - Witness those rings and roundelays - Of theirs, which yet remain, - Were footed in Queen Mary’s days - On many a grassy plain; - But, since of late Elizabeth, - And later James, came in, - They never danced on any heath - As when the time hath been. - - By which we note the fairies - Were of the old profession, - Their songs were Ave-Maries, - Their dances were procession: - But now, alas! they all are dead, - Or gone beyond the seas; - Or further for religion fled, - Or else they take their ease. - - A tell-tale in their company - They never could endure, - And whoso kept not secretly - Their mirth was punished sure; - It was a just and Christian deed - To pinch such black and blue: - Oh how the commonwealth doth need - Such justices as you! - -Bishop Corbet’s epigram on Beaumont’s early death is well known: - - He that hath such acuteness and such wit, - As would ask ten good heads to husband it; - He, that can write so well that no man dare - Refuse it for the best, let him beware: - Beaumont is dead, by whose sole death appears, - Wit’s a disease consumes men in few years. - -Sir Walter Raleigh, the graceful and brilliant courtier, is thought by -most students of the subject to have written _The Lie_. Though it -has been attributed to various authors the weight of evidence is in -favor of Raleigh. - - - _THE LIE_ - - Go, Soul, the body’s guest, - Upon a thankless errand; - Fear not to touch the best; - The truth shall be thy warrant. - Go, since I needs must die, - And give them all the lie. - - Go tell the Court it glows - And shines like rotten wood; - Go tell the Church it shows - What’s good, but does no good. - If Court and Church reply, - Give Court and Church the lie. - - Tell Potentates they live - Acting, but oh! their actions; - Not loved, unless they give, - Not strong but by their factions. - If Potentates reply, - Give Potentates the lie. - - Tell men of high condition, - That rule affairs of state, - Their purpose is ambition; - Their practice only hate; - And if they do reply, - Then give them all the lie. - - Tell those that brave it most, - They beg for more by spending, - Who in their greatest cost - Seek nothing but commending; - And if they make reply, - Spare not to give the lie. - - Tell zeal it wants devotion; - Tell love it is but lust; - Tell time it is but motion; - Tell flesh it is but dust: - And wish them not reply, - For thou must give the lie. - - Tell age it daily wasteth; - Tell honor how it alters; - Tell beauty how she blasteth; - Tell favor how it falters: - And as they shall reply, - Give every one the lie. - - Tell wit how much it wrangles - In tickle points of niceness; - Tell wisdom she entangles - Herself in over-wiseness: - And when they do reply, - Straight give them both the lie. - - Tell physic of her boldness; - Tell skill it is pretension; - Tell charity of coldness; - Tell law it is contention: - And as they do reply, - So give them still the lie. - - Tell fortune of her blindness; - Tell nature of decay; - Tell friendship of unkindness; - Tell justice of delay: - And if they will reply, - Then give them all the lie. - - Tell arts they have no soundness, - But vary by esteeming; - Tell schools they want profoundness, - And stand too much on seeming: - If arts and schools reply, - Give arts and schools the lie. - - Tell faith it’s fled the city; - Tell how the country erreth; - Tell, manhood shakes off pity; - Tell, virtue least preferreth: - And if they do reply, - Spare not to give the lie. - - So when thou hast, as I - Commanded thee, done blabbing,-- - Although to give the lie - Deserves no less than stabbing,-- - Yet, stab at thee that will, - No stab the soul can kill. - -The following well-known and thoroughly characteristic verses -originally appeared in _Gammer Gurton’s Needle_, an old English -comedy, which was long supposed to be the earliest written in the -language, but which now ranks as the second in point of age. It was -written by John Still, afterwards Bishop of Bath and Wells. - - - _JOLLY GOOD ALE AND OLD_ - - I cannot eat but little meat; - My stomach is not good; - But sure I think that I can drink - With him that wears a hood. - Though I go bare, take ye no care, - I nothing am a-cold, - I stuff my skin so full within - Of jolly good ale and old. - - Back and side go bare, go bare; - Both foot and hand go cold; - But, belly, God send thee good ale enough, - Whether it be new or old. - - I love no roast but a nut-brown toast, - And a crab laid in the fire; - And little bread shall do me stead; - Much bread I nought desire. - No frost, no snow, no wind, I trow, - Can hurt me if I wold, - I am so wrapp’d, and thoroughly lapp’d, - Of jolly good ale and old. - - Back and side, etc. - - And Tib, my wife, that as her life - Loveth well good ale to seek, - Full oft drinks she, till ye may see - The tears run down her cheek: - Then doth she troul to me the bowl, - Even as a maltworm should, - And saith, “Sweetheart, I took my part - Of this jolly good ale and old.” - - Back and side, etc. - - Now let them drink till they nod and wink - Even as good fellows should do; - They shall not miss to have the bliss - Good ale doth bring men to. - And all poor souls that have scour’d bowls - Or have them lustily troul’d, - God save the lives of them and their wives, - Whether they be young or old. - - Back and side, etc. - -Sir John Davies, poet and lawyer, wrote many acrostics to Queen -Elizabeth, and other witty verses. - - - _ACROSTICS_ - - Earth now is green and heaven is blue; - Lively spring which makes all new, - Iolly spring doth enter. - Sweet young sunbeams do subdue - Angry aged winter. - Blasts are mild and seas are calm, - Every meadow flows with balm, - The earth wears all her riches, - Harmonious birds sing such a psalm - As ear and heart bewitches. - Reserve (sweet spring) this nymph of ours, - Eternal garlands of thy flowers, - Green garlands never wasting; - In her shall last our state’s fair spring, - Now and forever flourishing, - As long as heaven is lasting. - - - _THE MARRIED STATE_ - - Wedlock, indeed, hath oft comparèd been - To public feasts, where meet a public rout, - Where they that are without would fain go in, - And they that are within would fain go out. - -John Marston, both dramatist and divine, gives us this bit of humorous -satire-- - - - _THE SCHOLAR AND HIS DOG_ - - I was a scholar: seven useful springs - Did I deflower in quotations - Of cross’d opinions ’bout the soul of man; - The more I learnt, the more I learnt to doubt. - Delight my spaniel slept, whilst I baus’d leaves, - Toss’d o’er the dunces, pored on the old print - Of titled words: and still my spaniel slept. - Whilst I wasted lamp-oil, baited my flesh, - Shrunk up my veins: and still my spaniel slept. - And still I held converse with Zabarell, - Aquinas, Scotus, and the musty saw - Of antick Donate: still my spaniel slept. - Still on went I; first, _an sit anima_; - Then, an it were mortal. Oh, hold, hold! at that - They’re at brain buffets, fell by the ears amain - Pell-mell together; still my spaniel slept. - Then, whether ’t were corporeal, local, fixt, - _Ex traduce_, but whether ’t had free will - Or no, hot philosophers - Stood banding factions, all so strongly propt, - I stagger’d, knew not which was firmer part, - But thought, quoted, read, observ’d, and pryed, - Stufft noting-books: and still my spaniel slept. - At length he wak’d, and yawned; and by yon sky, - For aught I know he knew as much as I. - -Following the example of Jest Books and collections of Merry Tales, -came the Anthologies. - -The most important of these was the _Miscellany_, which went -through eight editions in thirty years, and is said to be the book of -songs and sonnets that Master Slender missed so much. - -This book was first published in 1557 and was followed by many less -worthy collections. - -In 1576 appeared _The Paradise of Dainty Devices_ which also ran -through many editions. - -As a rule these collections were uninteresting and composed largely -of dull and prosy numbers. Their chief charm lay in their titles, -which were such as _A Gorgeous Gallery of Gallant Inventions_, -_A Handful of Pleasant Delights_, and _A Bouquet of Dainty -Conceits_. - -Yet it must be remembered that this latter half of the Sixteenth -Century saw the splendid flowering of lyric poetry, and in the last -year appeared a famous book called _England’s Helicon_ or _The -Muses’ Harmony_, which was a sort of Golden Treasury of the -Elizabethan age. - -This was supplemented two years later by the _Poetical Rhapsody_, -edited by Francis Davison, and from then on, the collected songs and -verses of England showed poetry from the masters. - -Also there were produced at this period many translations, both of -the classics and of more modern works of various countries; though no -important humorous work was translated until the next century, when -Urquhart gave Rabelais to the English people. - - - - - FRENCH WIT AND HUMOR - -Rutebœuf, the Trouvère, of the Thirteenth Century, if not the principal -author of the Fabliaux was the first to put them into rhyme. - -Most of his tales are too long and rambling to quote, and we content -ourselves with one. - - - _THE ASS’S TESTAMENT_ - - A priest there was in times of old, - Fond of his church, but fonder of gold, - Who spent his days and all his thought - In getting what he preached was naught. - His chests were full of robes and stuff, - Corn filled his garners to the roof, - Stored up against the fair-times gay, - From Saint Rémy to Easter Day. - An ass he had within his stable, - A beast most sound and valuable. - For twenty years he lent his strength - For the priest, his master, till at length, - Worn out with work and age, he died. - The priest, who loved him, wept and cried; - And, for his service long and hard, - Buried him in his own churchyard. - - Now turn we to another thing: - ’Tis of a bishop that I sing. - No greedy miser he, I ween; - Prelate so generous ne’er was seen. - Full well he loved in company - Of all good Christians still to be; - When he was well, his pleasure still, - His medicine best when he was ill. - Always his hall was full, and there - His guests had ever best of fare. - Whate’er the bishop lack’d or lost - Was bought at once despite the cost; - And so, in spite of rent and score, - The bishop’s debts grew more and more. - For true it is--this ne’er forget-- - Who spends too much gets into debt. - One day his friends all with him sat, - The bishop talking this and that, - Till the discourse on rich clerks ran, - Of greedy priests, and how their plan - Was all good bishops still to grieve, - And of their dues their lords deceive. - And then the priest of whom I’ve told - Was mention’d; how he loved his gold. - And because men do often use - More freedom than the truth would choose, - They gave him wealth, and wealth so much, - As those like him could scarcely touch. - “And then besides, a thing he’s done, - By which great profit might be won, - Could it be only spoken here.” - Quoth the bishop, “Tell it without fear.” - “He’s worse, my lord, than Bedouin, - Because his own dead ass, Baldwin, - He buried in the sacred ground.” - “If this is truth, as shall be found,” - The bishop cried, “a forfeit high - Will on his worldly riches lie. - Summon this wicked priest to me; - I will myself in this case be - The judge. If Robert’s word be true, - Mine are the fine and forfeit too.” - - * * * * * - - “Disloyal! God’s enemy and mine, - Prepare to pay a heavy fine. - Thy ass thou buriedst in the place - Sacred to church. Now, by God’s grace, - I never heard of crime more great. - What! Christian men with asses wait? - Now, if this thing be proven, know - Surely to prison thou wilt go.” - “Sir,” said the priest, “thy patience grant; - A short delay is all I want. - Not that I fear to answer now-- - But give me what the laws allow.” - And so the bishop leaves the priest, - Who does not feel as if at feast. - But still, because one friend remains, - He trembles not at prison pains. - His purse it is which never fails - For tax or forfeit, fine or vails. - - The term arrived, the priest appeared, - And met the bishop, nothing feared; - For ’neath his girdle safe there hung - A leathern purse, well stocked and strung - With twenty pieces fresh and bright, - Good money all, none clipped or light. - “Priest,” said the bishop, “if thou have - Answer to give to charge so grave, - ’Tis now the time.” - “Sir, grant me leave - My answer secretly to give. - Let me confess to you alone, - And, if needs be, my sins atone.” - The bishop bent his head to hear, - The priest he whispered in his ear: - “Sir, spare a tedious tale to tell. - My poor ass served me long and well, - For twenty years my faithful slave, - Each year his work a saving gave - Of twenty sous---so that in all - To twenty livres the sum will fall; - And, for the safety of his soul, - To you, my lord, he left the whole.” - “’Twas rightly done,” the bishop said, - And gravely shook his godly head: - “And, that his soul to heaven may go, - My absolution I bestow.” - Now have you heard a truthful lay, - How with rich priests the bishops play; - And Rutebœuf the moral draws - That, spite of kings’ and bishops’ laws, - ’Gainst evil is the man secure - That shields himself with money’s lure. - -In the Fourteenth century, Eustache Deschampes wrote more than a -thousand ballades, virelais and other forms of light verse. - -One of his ballades, here given in translation, is of a distinctly -modern type of wit. - - - _ADVICE TO A FRIEND ON MARRIAGE_ - - Ope! Who? A friend! What wouldst obtain? - Advice! Whereof? Is’t well to wed? - I wish to marry. What’s your pain? - No wife have I for board and bed, - By whom my house is wisely led. - One meek and fair I wish to gain, - Young, wealthy, too, and nobly bred; - You’re crazy--batter out your brain! - - Consider! Grief can you sustain? - Women have tempers bold and dread; - When for a dish of eggs you’re fain, - Broth, cheese, you’ll have before you spread: - Now free, you’ll be a slave instead-- - When married, you yourself have slain. - Think well. My first resolve is said; - You’re crazy--batter out your brain! - - No wife will be like her you feign; - On angry words you shall be fed, - So shall you bitterly complain, - With woes too hard to bear, bested: - Better a life in forest led - Than of such beast to bear the strain. - No! The sweet fancy fills my head; - You’re crazy--batter out your brain! - - - _ENVOY_ - - Soon you will long that you were dead - When married; seek in street or lane - Some love. No! Passion bids me wed; - You’re crazy--batter out your brain! - -Olivier Basselin who flourished in the Fifteenth century, and who was -a fuller by trade, is another one of the literary “Fathers,” his title -being, “Le Pere Joyeux du Vaudeville.” Born at Vire, surrounded by -valleys, it is held by some, while contradicted by others, that the -modern term vaudeville is a corruption of Vaux de Vire. - -His songs are mostly convivial and his humor broad and rollicking. - - - _TO MY NOSE_ - - Fair Nose! whose rubies red have cost me many a barrel - Of claret wine and white, - Who wearest in thy rich and sumptuous apparel - Such red and purple light! - - Great Nose! who looks at thee through some huge glass at revel, - More of thy beauty thinks: - For thou resemblest not the nose of some poor devil - Who only water drinks. - - The turkey-cock doth wear, resembling thee, his wattles, - How many rich men now - Have not so rich a nose! To paint thee, many bottles - And much time I allow. - - The glass my pencil is for thine illumination; - My color is the wine, - With which I’ve painted thee more red than the carnation, - By drinking of the fine. - - ’Tis said it hurts the eyes; but shall they be the masters? - Wine is the cure for all; - Better the windows both should suffer some disasters, - Than have the whole house fall. - - - _APOLOGY FOR CIDER_ - - Though Frenchmen at our drink may laugh, - And think their taste is wondrous fine, - The Norman cider, which we quaff, - Is quite the equal of his wine,-- - When down, down, down it freely goes, - And charms the palate as it flows. - - Whene’er a potent draught I take, - How dost thou bid me drink again? - Yet, pray, for my affection’s sake, - Dear Cider, do not turn my brain. - O, down, down, down it freely goes, - And charms the palate as it flow. - - I find I never lose my wits, - However freely I carouse, - And never try in angry fits - To raise a tempest in the house; - Though down, down, down the cider goes, - And charms the palate as it flows. - - To strive for riches in all stuff, - Just take the good the gods have sent; - A man is sure to have enough - If with his own he is content; - As down, down, down, the cider goes, - And charms the palate as it flows. - - In truth that was a hearty bout; - Why, not a drop is left,--not one; - I feel I’ve put my thirst to rout; - The stubborn foe at last is gone. - So down, down, down the cider goes, - And charms the palate as it flows. - -Francois Villon, born 1431, though not paternally designated, is -called, and rightly, the Prince of Ballade Makers. - -Two translations are here given of one of his most popular poems, and -another witty Ballade is added. - - - _THE BALLADE OF DEAD LADIES_ - - _Translated by Dante Gabriel Rossetti_ - - Tell me now in what hidden way is - Lady Flora the lovely Roman? - Where’s Hipparchia, and where is Thais, - Neither of them the fairer woman? - Where is Echo, beheld of no man, - Only heard on river and mere,-- - She whose beauty was more than human?... - But where are the snows of yester-year? - - Where’s Héloïse, the learned nun, - For whose sake Abeillard, I ween, - Lost manhood and put priesthood on? - (From Love he won such dule and teen!) - And where, I pray you, is the Queen - Who willed that Buridan should steer - Sewed in a sack’s mouth down the Seine?... - But where are the snows of yester-year? - - White Queen Blanche, like a queen of lilies, - With a voice like any mermaiden,-- - Bertha Broad-foot, Beatrice, Alice, - And Ermengarde the lady of Maine,-- - And that good Joan whom Englishmen - At Rouen doomed and burned her there,-- - Mother of God, where are they then?... - But where are the snows of yester-year? - - - _Envoi:_ - - Nay, never ask this week, fair lord, - Where they are gone, nor yet this year, - Except with this for an overword,-- - But where are the snows of yester-year? - - - _A BALLADE OF OLD TIME LADIES_ - - _Translated by John Payne_ - - Tell me, where, in what land of shade, - Hides fair Flora of Rome? and where - Are Thaìs and Archipiade, - Cousins-german in beauty rare? - And Echo, more than mortal fair, - That when one calls by river flow, - Or marish, answers out of the air? - But what has become of last year’s snow? - - Where did the learn’d Héloïsa vade, - For whose sake Abelard did not spare - (Such dole for love on him was laid) - Manhood to lose and a cowl to wear? - And where is the queen who will’d whilere - That Buridan, tied in a sack, should go - Floating down Seine from the turret-stair? - But what has become of last year’s snow? - - Blanche, too, the lily-white queen, that made - Sweet music as if she a siren were? - Broad-foot Bertha? and Joan, the maid, - The good Lorrainer the English bare - Captive to Rouen, and burn’d her there? - Beatrix, Eremburge, Alys--lo! - Where are they, virgins debonair? - But what has become of last year’s snow? - - - _Envoi_: - - Prince, you may question how they fare, - This week, or liefer this year, I trow: - Still shall the answer this burden bear-- - But what has become of last year’s snow? - - - _BALLAD OF THE WOMEN OF PARIS_ - - Albeit the Venice girls get praise - For their sweet speech and tender air, - And though the old women have wise ways - Of chaffering for amorous ware, - Yet at my peril dare I swear, - Search Rome, where God’s grace mainly tarries, - Florence and Savoy, everywhere, - There’s no good girl’s lip out of Paris. - - The Naples women, as folk prattle, - Are sweetly spoken and subtle enough: - German girls are good at tattle, - And Prussians make their boast thereof; - Take Egypt for the next remove, - Or that waste land the Tartar harries, - Spain or Greece, for the matter of love, - There’s no good girl’s lip out of Paris. - - Breton and Swiss know nought of the matter, - Gascony girls or girls of Toulouse; - Two fisherwomen with a half-hour’s chatter - Would shut them up by threes and twos; - Calais, Lorraine, and all their crews, - (Names enow the mad song marries) - England and Picardy, search them and choose, - There’s no good girl’s lip out of Paris. - - - _Envoi_: - - Prince, give praise to our French ladies - For the sweet sound their speaking carries; - ’Twixt Rome and Cadiz many a maid is, - But no good girl’s lip out of Paris. - -From Clement Marot, a delightful French poet of the Sixteenth century, -we give the following two extracts translated by Leigh Hunt. - - - _A LOVE-LESSON_ - - A sweet “No! no!” with a sweet smile beneath - Becomes an honest girl,--I’d have you learn it; - As for plain “Yes!” it may be said, i’ faith. - Too plainly and too oft,--pray, well discern it! - - Not that I’d have my pleasure incomplete, - Or lose the kiss for which my lips beset you; - But that in suffering me to take it, Sweet! - I’d have you say--“No! no! I will not let you.” - - - _MADAME D’ALBRET’S LAUGH_ - - Yes! that fair neck, too beautiful by half, - Those eyes, that voice, that bloom, all do her honour; - Yet, after all, that little giddy laugh - Is what, in my mind, sits the best upon her. - - Good God! ’twould make the very streets and ways, - Through which she passes, burst into a pleasure! - Did melancholy come to mar my days - And kill me in the lap of too much leisure, - No spell were wanting, from the dead to raise me, - But only that sweet laugh wherewith she slays me. - -About this time appeared the Heptameron, a series of tales of similar -form and character to the Decameron of Boccaccio. This work was -attributed to Margaret of Navarre, and doubtless was written by the -queen with the assistance of some of her people. The tales are too long -to quote. - -Jehan du Pontalais wrote a clever satirical skit on the love of money. - - - _MONEY_ - - Who money has, well wages the campaign; - Who money has, becomes of gentle strain; - Who money has, to honor all accord: - He is my lord. - Who money has, the ladies ne’er disdain; - Who money has, loud praises will attain; - Who money has, in the world’s heart is stored, - The flower adored. - O’er all mankind he holds his conquering track-- - They only are condemned who money lack. - - Who money has, will wisdom’s credit gain; - Who money has, all earth is his domain; - Who money has, praise is his sure reward, - Which all afford. - Who money has, from nothing need refrain; - Who money has, on him is favor poured; - And, in a word, - Who money has, need never fear attack-- - They only are condemned who money lack. - - Who money has, in every heart does reign; - Who money has, all to approach are fain; - Who money has, of him no fault is told, - Nor harm can hold. - Who money has, none does his right restrain; - Who money has, can whom he will maintain; - Who money has, clerk, prior, by his gold, - Is straight enrolled. - Who money has, all raise, none hold him back-- - They only are condemned who money lack. - -Francois Rabelais was born in or about 1495, in Chinon, Touraine. -Successively, monk, physician and scientist, he is best known as a -master of humor and grotesque invention. His romance of Gargantua and -Pantagruel is an extravagant, satirical criticism of the follies and -vices of the period, burlesquing the current abuses of government and -religion. - -Unable to escape a paternal label, - -An able writer in the _Foreign Quarterly Review_ speaks of -Rabelais as “an author without parallel in the history of literature: -an author who is the literary parent of many authors, since without him -we should probably have never known a Swift, a Sterne, a Jean Paul, or, -in fact, any of the irregular humorists: an author who did not appear -as a steadily shining light to the human race, but as a wild, startling -meteor, predicting the independence of thought, and the downfall of -the authority of ages: an author who for the union of heavy learning -with the most miraculous power of imagination, is perhaps without a -competitor.” - -The works of Rabelais abound in learning and serious intent, but the -riotous humor and flashing wit are presented with an accompaniment of -repulsive coarseness intolerable to the modern mind. - -This phase, however, was a part of the manners and customs of his time, -and to philosophers and students Rabelais will ever be a mine of deep -and recondite wisdom and thought. - -Indicative of his wildly extravagant fancy are the following extracts. - - - _OF THE ECLIPSES THIS YEAR_ - -This year there will be so many eclipses of the sun and moon, that I -fear (not unjustly) our pockets will suffer inanition, be full empty, -and our feeling at a loss. Saturn will be retrograde, Venus direct, -Mercury as unfixed as quicksilver. And a pack of planets won’t go as -you would have them. - -For this reason the crabs will go side-long, and the rope-makers -backward; the little stools will get upon the benches, and the spits on -the racks, and the bands on the hats; fleas will be generally black; -bacon will run away from peas in lent; there won’t be a bean left in a -twelfth cake, nor an ace in a flush; the dice won’t run as you wish, -tho’ you cog them, and the chance that you desire will seldom come; -brutes shall speak in several places; Shrovetide will have its day; one -part of the world shall disguise itself to gull and chouse the other, -and run about the streets like a parcel of addle-pated animals and mad -devils; such a hurly-burly was never seen since the devil was a little -boy; and there will be above seven and twenty irregular verbs made this -year, if Priscian don’t hold them in. If God don’t help us, we shall -have our hands and hearts full. - - - _OF THE DISEASES THIS YEAR_ - -This year the stone-blind shall see but very little; the deaf shall -hear but scurvily; the dumb shan’t speak very plain; the rich shall -be somewhat in a better case than the poor, and the healthy than the -sick. Whole flocks, herds, and droves of sheep, swine and oxen; cocks -and hens, ducks and drakes, geese and ganders, shall go to pot; but -the mortality will not be altogether so great among apes, monkeys, -baboons and dromedaries. As for old age, ’twill be incurable this year, -because of the years past. Those who are sick of the pleurisy will -feel a plaguy stitch in their sides; catarrhs this year shall distill -from the brain on the lower parts; sore eyes will by no means help the -sight; ears shall be at least as scarce and short in Gascony, and among -knights of the post, as ever; and a most horrid and dreadful, virulent, -malignant, catching, perverse and odious malady, shall be almost -epidemical, insomuch that many shall run mad upon it, not knowing what -nails to drive to keep the wolf from the door, very often plotting, -contriving, cudgeling and puzzling their weak shallow brains, and -syllogizing and prying up and down for the philosopher’s stone, tho’ -they only get Midas’s lugs by the bargain. I quake for very fear when -I think on’t; for I assure you, few will escape this disease, which -Averroes calls lack of money, and by consequence of the last year’s -comet, and Saturn’s retrogradation, there will be a horrid clutter -between the cats and the rats, hounds and hares, hawks and ducks, and -eke between the monks and eggs. - - - _OF THE FRUITS OF THE EARTH THIS YEAR_ - -I find by the calculations of Albumazar in his book of the great -conjunction, and elsewhere, that this will be a plentiful year of -all manner of good things to those who have enough; but your hops -of Picardy will go near to fare the worse for the cold. As for oats -they’ll be a great help to horses. I dare say, there won’t be much -more bacon than swine. Pisces having the ascendant, ’twill be a mighty -year for muscles, cockles, and periwinkles. Mercury somewhat threatens -our parsly-beds, yet parsly will be to be had for money. Hemp will -grow faster than the children of this age, and some will find there’s -but too much on’t. There will be a very few _bon-chretiens_, but -choak-pears in abundance. As for corn, wine, fruit and herbs, there -never was such plenty as will be now, if poor folks may have their wish. - - - _RABELAIS IMITATES DIOGENES_ - - (_From the Author’s Prologue to Book III._) - -When Philip, King of Macedon, enterprised the siege and ruin of -Corinth, the Corinthians having received certain intelligence by their -spies, that he with a numerous army in battle array was coming against -them, were all of them, not without cause, most terribly afraid; and, -therefore, were not neglective of their duty, in doing their best -endeavors to put themselves in a fit posture to resist his hostile -approach, and defend their own city. Some from the fields brought -into the fortified places their movables, cattle, corn, wine, fruit, -victuals and other necessary provisions. Others did fortify and rampire -their walls, set up little fortresses, bastions, squared ravelins, -digged trenches, cleansed countermines, fenced themselves with gabions, -contrived platforms, emptied casemates, barricaded the false brayes, -erected the cavalliers, repaired the contrescarpes, plaistered the -courtines, lengthened ravelins, stopped parapets, mortised barbacans, -new pointed the portcullises with fine steel or good iron, fastened the -herses and cataracts, placed their sentries and doubled their patrol. - -Every one did watch and ward, and not one was exempted from carrying -the basket. Some polished corselets, varnished backs and breasts, -cleaned the headpieces, mailcoats, brigandins, salads, helmets, -murrions, jacks, gushets, gorgets, hoguines, brassars and cuissars, -corselets, haubergeons, shields, bucklers, targets, greves, gauntlets -and spurs. - -Others made ready bows, slings, cross-bows, pellets, catapults, -migraines or fire-balls, firebrands, balists, scorpions, and other such -warlike engines, repugnatory, and destructive to the Helepolides. - -They sharpened and prepared spears, staves, pikes, brown bills, -halberts, long hooks, lances, zagages, quarterstaves, eelspears, -partisans, troutstaves, clubs, battle-axes, maces, darts, dartlets, -glaves, javelins, javelots, and truncheons. - -They set edges upon scimetars, cutlasses, badelairs, backswords, tucks, -rapiers, bayonets, arrow-heads, dags, daggers, mandousians, poniards, -whinyards, knives, skenes, chipping knives, and raillons. - -Diogenes seeing them all so warm at work, and himself not employed -by the magistrates in any business whatsoever, he did very seriously -(for many days together, without speaking one word) consider, and -contemplate the countenance of his fellow-citizens. - -Then on a sudden, as if he had been roused up and inspired by a martial -spirit, he girded his cloak, scarf-ways, about his left arm, tucked -up his sleeves to the elbow, trussed himself like a clown gathering -apples, and giving to one of his old acquaintance his wallet, books, -and opistographs, away went he out of town towards a little hill or -promontory of Corinth called Craneum; and there on, the strand, a -pretty level place, did he roll his jolly tub, which served him for an -house to shelter him from the injuries of the weather: there, I say, in -a great vehemency of spirit, did he turn it veer it, wheel it, whirl -it, frisk it, jumble it, shuffle it, hurdle it, tumble it, hurry it, -jolt it, jostle it, overthrow it, evert it, invert it, subvert it, -overturn it, beat it, thwack it, bump it, batter it, knock it, thrust -it, push it, jerk it, shock it, shake it, toss it, throw it, overthrow -it upside down, topsyturvy, tread it, trample it, stamp it, tap it, -ting it, ring it, tingle it, towl it, sound it, resound it, stop it, -shut it, unbung it, close it, unstopple it. And then again in a mighty -bustle he bandied it, slubbered it, hacked it, whittled it, wayed it, -darted it, hurled it, staggered it, reeled it, swinged it, brangled it, -tottered it, lifted it, heaved it, transformed it, transfigured it, -transposed it, transplaced it, reared it, raised it, hoised it, washed -it, dighted it, cleansed it, rinsed it, nailed it, settled it, fastened -it, shackled it, fettered it, levelled it, blocked it, tugged it, tewed -it, carried it, bedashed it, bewrayed it, parched it, mounted it, -broached it, nicked it, notched it, bespattered it, decked it, adorned -it, trimmed it, garnished it, gaged it, furnished it, bored it, pierced -it, tapped it, rumbled it, slid it down the hill, and precipitated it -from the very height of the Craneum; then from the foot to the top -(like another Sisyphus with his stone) bore it up again, and every way -so banged it and belabored it, that it was ten thousand to one he had -not struck the bottom of it out. - -Which when one of his friends had seen, and asked him why he did -so toil his body, perplex his spirit, and torment his tub? the -philosopher’s answer was, that not being employed in any other office -by the Republic, he thought it expedient to thunder and storm it so -tempestuously upon his tub, that amongst a people so fervently busy -and earnest at work, he alone might not seem a loitering slug and lazy -fellow. To the same purpose may I say to myself,-- - - Tho’ I be rid from fear, - I am not void of care. - -For perceiving no account to be made of me towards the discharge of a -trust of any great concernment, and considering that through all the -parts of this most noble kingdom of France, both on this and on the -other side of the mountains, every one is most diligently exercised -and busied; some in the fortifying of their own native country, for -its defence; others, in the repulsing of their enemies by an offensive -war; and all this with a policy so excellent, and such admirable order, -so manifestly profitable for the future, whereby France shall have -its frontiers most magnifically enlarged, and the French assured of a -long and well-grounded peace, that very little withholds me from the -opinion of good Heraclitus, which affirmeth war to be the parent of all -good things; and therefore do I believe that war is in Latin called -_bellum_, not by antiphrasis, as some patchers of old rusty Latin -would have us to think, because in war there is little beauty to be -seen; but absolutely and simply; for that in war (_bellum_ in -_Latin_) appears all that is good and graceful, _bon_ and -_bel_ in French, and that by the wars is purged out all manner -of wickedness and deformity. For proof whereof the wise and pacific -Solomon could no better represent the unspeakable perfection of the -divine wisdom, than by comparing it to the due disposure and ranking of -an army in battle array, well provided and ordered. - -Therefore by reason of my weakness and inability, being reputed by my -compatriots unfit for the offensive part of warfare; and on the other -side, being no way employed in matter of the defensive, although it had -been but to carry burdens, fill ditches, or break clods, each whereof -had been to me indifferent, I held it not a little disgraceful to be -only an idle spectator of so many valorous, eloquent, and warlike -persons, who in the view and sight of all Europe act this notable -interlude or tragicomedy, and not exert myself, and contribute thereto -this nothing, my all; which remained for me to do. For, in my opinion, -little honor is due to such as are mere lookers on, liberal of their -eyes, and of their strength parsimonious; who conceal their crowns and -hide their silver; scratching their head with one finger like grumbling -puppies, gaping at the flies like tithe calves; clapping down their -ears like Arcadian asses at the melody of musicians, who with their -very countenances in the depth of silence express their consent to the -prosopopeia. - -Having made this choice and election, it seemed to me that my exercise -therein would be neither unprofitable nor troublesome to any, whilst I -should thus set agoing my Diogenical Tub. - - - _THE LOST HATCHET_ - -There once lived a poor honest country fellow of Gravot, Tom Wellhung -by name, a wood-cleaver by trade, who in that low drudgery made shift -so to pick up a sorry livelihood. It happened that he lost his hatchet. -Now tell me who ever had more cause to be vexed than poor Tom? Alas, -his whole estate and life depended on his hatchet; by his hatchet he -earned many a fair penny of the best wood-mongers or log-merchants, -among whom he went a-jobbing; for want of his hatchet he was like to -starve; and had Death but met him six days after without a hatchet, the -grim fiend would have mowed him down in the twinkling of a bed-staff. -In this sad case he began to be in a heavy taking, and called upon -Jupiter with most eloquent prayers (for, you know, necessity was the -mother of eloquence), with the whites of his eyes turned up toward -heaven, down on his marrow-bones, his arms reared high, his fingers -stretched wide, and his head bare, the poor wretch without ceasing was -roaring out by way of Litany at every repetition of his supplications, -“My hatchet, Lord Jupiter, my hatchet, my hatchet, only my hatchet, -oh, Jupiter, or money to buy another, and nothing else; alas, my poor -hatchet!” - -Jupiter happened then to be holding a grand council about certain -urgent affairs, and old Gammer Cybele was just giving her opinion, or, -if you had rather have it so, it was young Phœbus the Beau; but, in -short, Tom’s outcry and lamentations were so loud that they were heard -with no small amazement at the council-board by the whole consistory -of the gods. “What a devil have we below,” quoth Jupiter, “that howls -so horridly? By the mud of Styx, haven’t we had all along, and haven’t -we here still, enough to do to set to rights a world of puzzling -businesses of consequence? Let us, however, despatch this howling -fellow below; you, Mercury, go see who it is, and discover what he -wants.” Mercury looked out at heaven’s trapdoor, through which, as I -am told, they hear what’s said here below. By the way, one might well -enough mistake it for the scuttle of a ship; though Icaromenippus said -it was like the mouth of a well. The light-heeled deity saw that it -was honest Tom, who asked for his lost hatchet; and, accordingly, he -made his report to the Synod. “Marry,” said Jupiter, “we are finely -holped up, as if we had now nothing else to do here but to restore lost -hatchets. Well, he must have it for all that, for so ’tis written in -the Book of Fate, as well as if it was worth the whole Duchy of Milan. -The truth is, the fellow’s hatchet is as much to him as a kingdom to a -king. Come, come, let no more words be scattered about it; let him have -his hatchet again. Run down immediately, and cast at the poor fellow’s -feet three hatchets! his own, another of gold, and a third of massy -silver, all of one size; then, having left it to his will to take his -choice, if he take his own, and be satisfied with it, give him t’other -two. If he take another, chop his head off with his own; and henceforth -serve me all those losers of hatchets after that manner.” - -Having said this, Jupiter, with an awkward turn of his head, like a -jackanapes swallowing pills, made so dreadful a phiz that all the -vast Olympus quaked again. Heaven’s foot-messenger, thanks to his -low-crowned, narrow-brimmed hat, and plume of feathers, heel-pieces, -and running-stick with pigeon-wings, flings himself out at heaven’s -wicket, through the empty deserts of the air, and in a trice nimbly -alights on the earth, and throws at friend Tom’s feet the three -hatchets, saying to him: “Thou hast bawled long enough to be a-dry; thy -prayers and requests are granted by Jupiter; see which of these three -is thy hatchet, and take it away with thee.” - -Wellhung lifts up the golden hatchet, peeps upon it, and finds it very -heavy; then staring on Mercury cries, “Gadzooks, this is none of mine; -I won’t ha’t.” The same he did with the silver one, and said, “’Tis not -this either; you may e’en take them again.” At last, he takes up his -own hatchet, examines the end of the helve, and finds his mark there; -then, ravished with joy, like a fox that meets some straggling poultry, -and sneering from the tip of the nose, he cries, “By the Mass, this -is my hatchet; Master God, if you will leave it me, I will sacrifice -to you a very good and huge pot of milk, brim full, covered with fine -strawberries, next Ides, _i.e._, the 15th of May.” - -“Honest fellow,” said Mercury, “I leave it thee; take it; and because -thou hast wished and chosen moderately, in point of hatchet, by -Jupiter’s command I give thee these two others; thou hast now wherewith -to make thyself rich: be honest.” - -Honest Tom gave Mercury a whole cart-load of thanks, and paid reverence -to the most great Jupiter. His old hatchet he fastened close to his -leathern girdle, and girds it about his breech like Martin of Cambray; -the two others, being more heavy, he lays on his shoulder. Thus he -plods on, trudging over the fields, keeping a good countenance among -his neighbors and fellow-parishioners, with one merry saying or other, -after Patelin’s way. - -The next day, having put on a clean white jacket, he takes on his -back the two precious hatchets, and comes to Chinon, the famous city, -noble city, ancient city, yea, the first city in the world, according -to the judgment and assertion of the most learned Massoreths. In -Chinon he turned his silver hatchet into fine testons, crown-pieces, -and other white cash; his golden hatchet into fine angels, curious -ducats, substantial ridders, spankers, and rose nobles. Then with -them purchases a good number of farms, barns, houses, outhouses, -thatch-houses, stables, meadows, orchards, fields, vineyards, woods, -arable lands, pastures, ponds, mills, gardens, nurseries, oxen, -cows, sheep, goats, swine, hogs, asses, horses, hens, cocks, capons, -chickens, geese, ganders, ducks, drakes, and a world of all other -necessaries, and in a short time became the richest man in all the -country. His brother bumpkins, and the yeomen and other country-puts -thereabout, perceiving his good fortune, were not a little amazed, -insomuch that their former pity of poor Tom was soon changed into an -envy of his so great and unexpected rise; and, as they could not for -their souls devise how this came about, they made it their business to -pry up and down, and lay their heads together, to inquire, seek, and -inform themselves by what means, in what place, on what day, what hour, -how, why, and wherefore, he had come by this great treasure. - -At last, hearing it was by losing his hatchet, “Ha, ha!” said they, -“was there no more to do, but to lose a hatchet, to make us rich?” With -this they all fairly lost their hatchets out of hand. The devil a one -that had a hatchet left; he was not his mother’s son, that did not lose -his hatchet. No more was wood felled or cleared in that country through -want of hatchets. Nay, the Æsopian apologue even saith, that certain -petty country gents, of the lower class, who had sold Wellhung their -little mill and little field to have wherewithal to make a figure at -the next muster, having been told that this treasure was come to him by -that means only, sold the only badge of their gentility, their swords, -to purchase hatchets to go to lose them, as the silly clodpates did, in -hopes to gain store of coin by that loss. - -You would have truly sworn they had been a parcel of your petty -spiritual usurers, Rome-bound, selling their all, and borrowing of -others to buy store of mandates, a pennyworth of a new-made pope. - -Now they cried out and brayed, and prayed and bawled, and lamented and -invoked Jupiter, “My hatchet! My hatchet! Jupiter, my hatchet!” On this -side, “My hatchet!” On that side, “My hatchet! Ho, ho, ho, ho, Jupiter, -my hatchet!” The air round about rung again with the cries and howlings -of these rascally losers of hatchets. - -Mercury was nimble in bringing them hatchets; to each offering that -which he had lost, as also another of gold, and a third of silver. - -Everywhere he still was for that of gold, giving thanks in abundance -to the great giver Jupiter; but in the very nick of time, that they -bowed and stooped to take it from the ground, whip in a trice, Mercury -lopped off their heads, as Jupiter had commanded. And of heads thus cut -off, the number was just equal to that of the lost hatchets. - --_Gargantua and Pantagruel._ - -There is an epigram in Martial, and one of the very good ones--for he -has all sorts--where he pleasantly tells the story of Cælius, who, to -avoid making his court to some great men of Rome, to wait their rising, -and to attend them abroad, pretended to have the gout; and the better -to color this, anointed his legs and had them lapped up in a great many -swathings, and perfectly counterfeited both the gesture and countenance -of a gouty person; till in the end, Fortune did him the kindness to -make him one indeed. - - “Tantum cura potest, et ars doloris! - Desit fingere Cælius podagram.” - -I think I have read somewhere in Appian, a story like this, of one who -to escape the proscriptions of the triumvirs of Rome, and the better to -be concealed from the discovery of those who pursued him, having hidden -himself in a disguise, would yet add this invention, to counterfeit -having but one eye; but when he came to have a little more liberty, -and went to take off the plaster he had a great while worn over his -eye, he found he had totally lost the sight of it indeed, and that it -was absolutely gone. ’Tis possible that the action of sight was dulled -from having been so long without exercise, and that the optic power -was wholly retired into the other eye for we evidently perceive that -the eye we keep shut sends some part of its virtue to its fellow, so -that it will swell and grow bigger; and so, inaction, with the heat of -ligatures and plaster might very well have brought some gouty humor -upon this dissembler of Martial. - -Reading in Froissart the vow of a troop of young English gallants, -to keep their left eyes bound up till they had arrived in France and -performed some notable exploit upon us, I have often been tickled with -the conceit: suppose it had befallen them as it did the Roman, and -they had returned with but one eye apiece to their mistresses, for -whose sakes they had made his ridiculous vow. - -Mothers have reason to rebuke their children when they counterfeit -having but one eye, squinting, lameness, or any other personal defect; -for, besides that their bodies being then so tender may be subject to -take an ill bent, Fortune, I know not how, sometimes seems to delight -in taking us at our word; and I have heard several examples related -of people who have become really sick, by only feigning to be so. I -have always used, whether on horseback or on foot, to carry a stick in -my hand, and even to affect doing it with an elegant air; many have -threatened that this fancy would one day be turned into necessity: if -so, I should be the first of my family to have the gout. - -But let us a little lengthen this chapter, and add another anecdote -concerning blindness. Pliny reports of one who, dreaming he was blind, -found himself so indeed in the morning without any preceding infirmity -in his eyes. The force of imagination might assist in this case, as I -have said elsewhere, and Pliny seems to be of the same opinion; but it -is more likely that the motions which the body felt within, of which -physicians, if they please, may find out the cause, taking away his -sight, were the occasion of his dream. - -Let us add another story, not very improper for this subject, which -Seneca relates in one of his epistles: “You know,” says he, writing -to Lucilius, “that Harpaste, my wife’s fool, is thrown upon me as an -hereditary charge for I have naturally an aversion to those monsters; -and if I have a mind to laugh at a fool, I need not seek him far, I -can laugh at myself. This fool has suddenly lost her sight: I tell -you a strange, but a very true thing; she is not sensible that she is -blind, but eternally importunes her keeper to take her abroad, because -she says the house is dark. That what we laugh at in her, I pray you -to believe, happens to every one of us: no one knows himself to be -avaricious or grasping: and again, the blind call for a guide, while we -stray of our own accord. I am not ambitious, we say; but a man cannot -live otherwise at Rome; I am not wasteful, but the city requires a -great outlay; ’tis not my fault if I am choleric--if I have not yet -established any certain course of life: ’tis the fault of youth. Let us -not seek our disease out of ourselves; ’tis in us, and planted in our -bowels; and the mere fact that we do not perceive ourselves to be sick, -renders us more hard to be cured. If we do not betimes begin to see to -ourselves, when shall we have provided for so many wounds and evils -wherewith we abound? And yet we have a most sweet and charming medicine -in philosophy; for of all the rest we are sensible of no pleasure till -after the cure: this pleases and heals at once.” This is what Seneca -says, that has carried me from my subject, but there is advantage in -the change. - -As in England, the French published many jest books containing short -anecdotes or epigrams, as well as the ubiquitous noodle stories. - - * * * * * - -A wife said to her husband, who was much attached to reading, “I wish -I were a book, that I might always have your company.” _Then_, -answered he, _I should wish you an almanac, that I might change once -a year_. - - * * * * * - -It was said of a malicious parasite, that he never opened his mouth -but at the expense of others; because he always ate at the tables of -others, and spoke ill of everybody. - - * * * * * - -The Duke of Vivonne, who was a heretic in medicine, being indisposed, -his friends sent for a physician. When the Duke was told a physician -was below, he said, _Tell him I cannot see him, because I am not -well. Let him call again at another time_. - - * * * * * - -The Marechal de Faber, at a siege, was pointing out a place with his -finger. As he spoke, a musket-ball carried off the finger. Instantly -stretching another, he continued his discourse, _Gentlemen, as I was -saying_--. This was true _sang froid_. - -A man, carrying on an unjust process, was advised to pray to God for -its success. _Stop, stop_, replied he, _God must hear nothing of -this_. - - * * * * * - -Another princess of France, being espoused by the king of Spain, in -passing through a town, on her way to Madrid, the magistrates of the -place, which was a famous mart for stockings, waited on the queen with -a present of a dozen pairs of remarkable fineness. The Spanish grandee, -who attended her, full of the jealous humour of his nation, said, in -a passion. “You fools, know that a queen of Spain has no legs.” The -magistrates retired in terror, and the poor queen, weeping sadly, said, -_Must I then have both my legs cut off?_ - - * * * * * - -In a village of Poitou, a peasant’s wife, after a long illness, fell -into a lethargy. She was thought dead; and being only wrapped in linen, -as the custom of burying the poor in that country is, she was carried -to the place of interment. In going to church, the body, being borne -aloft, was caught hold of by some briars, and so scratched, that as -if bled by a surgeon, she revived. Fourteen years after, she died in -earnest, as was thought; and as they carried her to church, the husband -exclaimed, _For God’s sake, do not go near the briars_. - - * * * * * - -A gentleman, seeing in his yard a mass of rubbish, blamed his people -for not removing it. A domestic said, no cart could be got. “Why,” -answered the master, “do you not make a pit beside the rubbish, and -bury it?” “But,” answered the domestic, “where shall we put the earth -that comes out of the pit?” _You great fool_, replied his master, -_make the pit so large as to hold all_. - - * * * * * - -A lady sitting near the fire, and telling a long story, a spark flew on -her gown, and she did not perceive it till it had burnt a good while. -_I saw it at first, madam_, said a lady who was present, _but I -could not be so rude as to interrupt you_. - -When Rabelais lay on his death-bed, he could not help jesting at the -very last moment; for, having received the extreme unction, a friend -coming to see him, said, he hoped he was prepared for the next world. -_Yes, yes_, answered Rabelais, _I am ready for my journey now; -they have just greased my boots_. - - - - - GERMAN WIT AND HUMOR - -Brandt’s _Das Narrenschiff_, or _The Ship of Fools_, a long -satirical poem, was published at the close of the Fifteenth century. - -It was followed by _The Boats of Foolish Women_ and other -imitative works. - -Among them, was _The Praise of Folly_, by Desiderius Erasmus, a -Dutch classical scholar and satirist. - -The following is from the Dedicatory Epistle which introduces _The -Praise of Folly_, and which is addressed to Sir Thomas More. - -“But those who are offended at the lightness and pedantry of this -subject, I would have them consider that I do not set myself for the -first example of this kind, but that the same has been oft done by many -considerable authors. For thus, several ages since, Homer wrote of no -more weighty a subject than of a war between the frogs and mice; Virgil -of a gnat and a pudding cake; and Ovid of a nut. Polycrates commended -the cruelty of Busiris; and Isocrates, that corrects him for this, did -as much for the injustice of Glaucus. Favorinus extolled Thersites, -and wrote in praise of a quartane ague. Synesius pleaded in behalf of -baldness; and Lucian defended a sipping fly. Seneca drollingly related -the deifying of Claudius; Plutarch the dialogue betwixt Gryllus and -Ulysses; Lucian and Apuleius the story of an ass; and somebody else -records the last will of a hog, of which St. Hierom makes mention. So -that, if they please, let themselves think the worst of me, and fancy -to themselves that I was, all this while, a playing at push-pin, or -riding astride on a hobby-horse. For how unjust is it, if when we allow -different recreations to each particular course of life, we afford no -diversion to studies; especially when trifles may be a whet to more -serious thoughts, and comical matters may be so treated of, as that -a reader of ordinary sense may possibly thence reap more advantage -than from some more big and stately argument.... As to what relates -to myself, I must be forced to submit to the judgment of others, yet, -except I am too partial to be judge in my own case, I am apt to believe -I have praised Folly in such a manner as not to have deserved the name -of fool for my pains.” - -A short extract from the book follows. - - “It is one farther very commendable property of fools, that - they always speak the truth, than which there is nothing more - noble and heroical. For so, though Plato relates it as a - sentence of Alcibiades, that in the sea of drunkenness truth - swims uppermost, and so wine is the only teller of truth, yet - this character may more justly be assumed by me, as I can make - good from the authority of Euripides, who lays down this as an - axiom, ‘Children and fools always speak the truth.’ Whatever the - fool has in his heart, he betrays in his face; or what is more - notifying, discovers it by his words; while the wise man, as - Euripides observes, carries a double tongue; the one to speak - what may be said, the other what ought to be; the one what - truth, the other what time requires; whereby he can in a trice - so alter his judgment, as to prove that to be now white, which - he had just swore to be black; like the satyr at his porridge, - blowing hot and cold at the same breath; in his lips professing - one thing, when in his heart he means another. - - Furthermore, princes in their greatest splendor seem upon this - account unhappy, in that they miss the advantage of being told - the truth, and are shammed off by a parcel of insinuating - courtiers, that acquit themselves as flatterers more than as - friends. But some will perchance object that princes do not love - to hear the truth, and therefore wise men must be very cautious - how they behave themselves before them, lest they should take - too great a liberty in speaking what is true, rather than what - is acceptable. This must be confessed, truth indeed is seldom - palatable to the ears of kings, yet fools have so great a - privilege as to have free leave, not only to speak bare truths, - but the most bitter ones too; so as the same reproof which, had - it come from the mouth of a wise man would have cost him his - head, being blurted out by a fool, is not only pardoned, but - well taken, and rewarded. For truth has naturally a mixture of - pleasure, if it carry with it nothing of offence to the person - whom it is applied to; and the happy knack of ordering it so, is - bestowed only on fools....” - -However, but few individual names stand out in the early German -literature that can by any stretch of definition be called humorous. - -As in all other countries, legends and folk lore tales were rife, and -eventually produced popular heroes about whom stories were invented. - -Brother Rush, who seems to be merely a demon of darkness, is first -found in print in Germany in 1515. - -He is a tricksy sprite and goes through various vicissitudes of rather -dull interest. - -He was followed by Tyll Eulenspiegel, a far more popular personage, and -translated to England under the name of Owleglas or Howleglas. - -Eulenspiegel was a shrewd and cunning proposition and had many -startling adventures, two of which are here given. - - - _EULENSPIEGEL’S PRANKS_ - - - _The Golden Horseshoes_ - -Eulenspiegel came to the court of the King of Denmark, who liked him -well, and said that if he would make him some diversion, then might he -have the best of shoes for his horse’s hoofs. Eulenspiegel asked the -king if he was minded to keep his word well and truly, and the king did -answer most solemnly, “Yes.” - -Now did Eulenspiegel ride his horse to a goldsmith, by whom he -suffered to be beaten upon the horse’s hoofs shoes of gold with silver -nails. This done, Eulenspiegel went to the king, that the king might -send his treasurer to pay for the shoeing. The treasurer believed -he should pay a blacksmith, but Eulenspiegel conducted him to the -goldsmith, who did require and demand one hundred Danish marks. This -would the treasurer not pay, but went and told his master. - -Therefore the king caused Eulenspiegel to be summoned into his -presence, and spoke to him: - -“Eulenspiegel, why did you have such costly shoes? Were I to shoe all -my horses thus, soon would I be without land or any possessions.” - -To which Eulenspiegel did make reply: - -“Gracious King, you did promise me the best of shoes for my horse’s -hoofs, and I did think the best were of gold.” - -Then the king laughed: - -“You shall be of my court, for you act upon my very word.” - -And the king commanded his treasurer to pay the hundred marks for the -horse’s golden shoes. But these Eulenspiegel caused to be taken off, -and iron shoes put on in their stead; and he remained many a long day -in the service of the King of Denmark. - - - _Paying with the Sound of a Penny_ - -Eulenspiegel was at a tavern where the host did one day put the meat -on the spit so late that Eulenspiegel got hungry for dinner. The host, -seeing his discontent, said to him: - -“Who cannot wait till the dinner be ready, let him eat what he may.” - -Therefore Eulenspiegel went aside, and ate some dry bread; after that -he had eaten he sat by the fire and turned the spit until the meat was -roasted. Then was the meat borne upon the table, and the host, with the -guests, did feast upon it. But Eulenspiegel stayed on the bench by the -fire, nor would he sit at the board, since he told the host that he had -his fill from the odor of the meat. So when they had eaten, and the -host came to Eulenspiegel with the tray, that he might place in it the -price of the food, Eulenspiegel did refuse, saying: - -“Why must I pay for what I have not eaten?” - -To which the host replied, in anger: - -“Give me your penny; for by sitting at the fire, and swallowing the -savor of the meat, you had the same nourishment as though you had -partaken of the meat at the board.” - -Then Eulenspiegel searched in his purse for a penny, and threw it on -the bench, saying to the host: - -“Do you hear this sound?” - -“I do, indeed,” answered the host. - -Then did Eulenspiegel pick up the penny and restore it to his purse; -which done, he spoke again: - -“To my belly the odor of the meat is worth as much as the sound of the -penny is to you.” - - * * * * * - -About this time came into being the tales of the Schildburgers, or -Noodles, who correspond to the Gothamites of England. - -Schildburg, we are told, was a town “in Misnopotamia, beyond Utopia, -in the kingdom of Calecut.” The Schildburgers were originally so -renowned for their wisdom, that they were continually invited into -foreign countries to give their advice, until at length not a man was -left at home, and their wives were obliged to assume the charge of the -duties of their husbands. This became at length so onerous, that the -wives held a council, and resolved on despatching a solemn message in -writing to call the men home. This had the desired effect; all the -Schildburgers returned to their own town, and were so joyfully received -by their wives that they resolved upon leaving it no more. They -accordingly held a council, and it was decided that, having experienced -the great inconvenience of a reputation of wisdom, they would avoid -it in future by assuming the character of fools. One of the first -evil results of their long neglect of home affairs was the want of a -council-hall, and this want they now resolved to supply without delay. -They accordingly went to the hills and woods, cut down the timber, -dragged it with great labour to the town, and in due time completed -the erection of a handsome and substantial building. But, when they -entered their new council-hall, what was their consternation to find -themselves in perfect darkness! In fact, they had forgotten to make -any windows. Another council was held, and one who had been among the -wisest in the days of their wisdom, gave his opinion very oracularly; -the result of which was that they should experiment on every possible -expedient for introducing light into the hall, and that they should -first try that which seemed most likely to succeed. They had observed -that the light of day was caused by sunshine, and the plan proposed was -to meet at mid-day when the sun was brightest, and fill sacks, hampers, -jugs, and vessels of all kinds, with sunshine and daylight, which they -proposed afterwards to empty into the unfortunate council-hall. Next -day, as the clock struck one, you might see a crowd of Schildburgers -before the council-house door, busily employed, some holding the sacks -open, and others throwing the light into them with shovels and any -other appropriate implements which came to hand. While they were thus -labouring, a stranger came into the town of Schildburg, and, hearing -what they were about, told them they were labouring to no purpose, -and offered to show them how to get the daylight into the hall. It is -unnecessary to say more than that this new plan was to make an opening -in the roof, and that the Schildburgers witnessed the effect with -astonishment, and were loud in their gratitude to the new comer. - -The Schildburgers met with further difficulties before they completed -their council-hall. They sowed a field with salt, and when the -salt-plant grew up next year, after a meeting of the council, at which -it was stiffly disputed whether it ought to be reaped, or mowed, or -gathered in in some other manner, it was finally discovered that -the crop consisted of nothing but nettles. After many accidents of -this kind, the Schildburgers are noticed by the emperor, and obtain -a charter of incorporation and freedom, but they profit little by -it. In trying some experiments to catch mice, they set fire to their -houses, and the whole town is burnt to the ground, upon which, in their -sorrow, they abandon it altogether, and become, like the Jews of old, -scattered over the world, carrying their own folly into every country -they visit. - -Another tale relates how the boors of Schilda contrived to get their -millstone twice down from a high mountain: - -The boors of Schilda had built a mill, and with extraordinary labour -they had quarried a millstone for it out of a quarry which lay on -the summit of a high mountain; and when the stone was finished, they -carried it with great labour and pain down the hill. When they had -got to the bottom, it occurred to one of them that they might have -spared themselves the trouble of carrying it down by letting it roll -down. “Verily,” said he, “we are the stupidest of fools to take these -extraordinary pains to do that which we might have done with so little -trouble. We will carry it up, and then let it roll down the hill -by itself, as we did before with the tree which we felled for the -council-house.” - -This advice pleased them all, and with greater labour they carried -the stone to the top of the mountain again, and were about to roll it -down, when one of them said, “But how shall we know where it runs to? -Who will be able to tell us aught about it?” “Why,” said the bailiff, -who had advised the stone being carried up again, “this is very easily -managed. One of us must stick in the hole [for the millstone, of -course, had a hole in the middle], and run down with it.” This was -agreed to, and one of them, having been chosen for the purpose, thrust -his head through the hole, and ran down the hill with the millstone. -Now at the bottom of the mountain was a deep fish-pond, into which the -stone rolled, and the simpleton with it, so that the Schildburgers -lost both stone and man, and not one among them knew what had become -of them. And they felt sorely angered against their old companion who -had run down the hill with the stone, for they considered that he had -carried it off for the purpose of disposing of it. So they published a -notice in all the neighbouring boroughs, towns, and villages, calling -on them, that “if any one come there with a millstone round his neck, -they should treat him as one who had stolen the common goods, and give -him to justice.” But the poor fellow lay in the pond, dead. Had he been -able to speak, he would have been willing to tell them not to worry -themselves on his account, for he would give them their own again. But -his load pressed so heavily upon him, and he was so deep in the water, -that he, after drinking water enough--more, indeed, than was good for -him--died; and he is dead at the present day, and dead he will, shall, -and must remain! - -The earliest known edition of the history of the Schildburgers was -printed in 1597, but the story itself is no doubt older. It will be -seen at once that it involves a satire upon the municipal towns of the -middle ages. - - - - - ITALIAN WIT AND HUMOR - -Of Italian wit and humor up to and through the Sixteenth Century there -is little to be said. Translators who have given us in English the -early literature of Italy have been so concerned with the serious -poetry and prose that they neglected the lighter veins. - -If, indeed, there were any worth while. - -The outstanding name of the Fourteenth Century is that of Giovanni -Boccaccio. - -But though the Decameron, a collection of one hundred stories, is a -mirror of the humorous taste of that time, the stories are for the most -part, long, dull and prosy. - -They relate the intrigues of lovers in a freely licentious way, but -both humorous description and witty repartee are consciously lacking. - -One of the most amusing of the decent tales is here given, also a -sonnet of Boccaccio’s translated by Rossetti. - - - _OF THREE GIRLS AND THEIR TALK_ - - By a clear well, within a little field - Full of green grass and flowers of every hue, - Sat three young girls, relating (as I knew) - Their loves. And each had twined a bough to shield - Her lovely face; and the green leaves did yield - The golden hair their shadow,--while the two - Sweet colours mingled, both blown lightly through - With a soft wind for ever stirr’d and still’d. - After a little while one of them said - (I heard her)--“Think! if ere the next hour struck - Each of our lovers should come here to-day, - Think you that we should fly or feel afraid?” - To whom the others answer’d--“From such luck - A girl would be a fool to run away!” - - - _THE STOLEN PIG_ - -Calandrino had a little farm, not far from Florence, which came to him -through his wife. There he used to have a pig fatted every year, and -some time about December he and his wife went always to kill and salt -it for the use of the family. Now it happened once--she being unwell -at the time--that he went thither by himself to kill his pig; which -Bruno and Buffalmacco hearing, and knowing she was not to be there, -they went to spend a few days with a great friend of theirs, a priest -in Calandrino’s neighborhood. Now the pig had been killed the very day -they came thither, and Calandrino, seeing them along with the priest, -called to them and said, “Welcome, kindly; I would gladly you should -see what a good manager I am.” Then, taking them into the house, he -showed them this pig. They saw that it was fat, and were told by him -that it was to be salted for his family. “Salted, booby?” said Bruno. -“Sell it, let us make merry with the money, and tell your wife that it -was stolen.” “No,” said Calandrino, “she will never believe it; and, -besides, she would turn me out of doors. Trouble me, then, no further -about any such thing, for I will never do it.” They said a great deal -more to him, but all to no purpose. At length he invited them to -supper, but did it in such a manner that they refused. - -After they had come away from him, said Bruno to Buffalmacco, “Suppose -we steal this pig from him to-night.” “How is it possible?” “Oh, -I know well enough how to do it, if he does not remove it in the -meantime from the place where we just now saw it.” “Then let us do it, -and afterward we and the parson will make merry over it.” The priest -assured them that he should like it above all things. “We must use a -little art,” quoth Bruno; “you know how covetous he is, and how freely -he drinks when it is at another’s cost. Let us get him to the tavern, -where the parson shall make a pretense of treating us all, out of -compliment to him. He will soon get drunk, and then the thing will be -easy enough, as there is nobody in the house but himself.” - -This was done, and Calandrino, finding that the parson was to pay, took -his glasses pretty freely, and, getting his dose, walked home betimes, -left the door open, thinking that it was shut, and so went to bed. -Buffalmacco and Bruno went from the tavern to sup with the priest, and -as soon as supper was over they took proper tools with them to get into -the house; but finding the door open, they carried off the pig to the -priest’s and went to bed likewise. - -In the morning, as soon as Calandrino had slept off his wine, he rose, -came down-stairs, and finding the door open and his pig gone, began to -inquire of everybody if they knew anything of the matter; and receiving -no tidings of it, he made a terrible outcry, saying, “What shall I do -now? Somebody has stolen my pig!” Bruno and Buffalmacco were no sooner -out of bed than they went to his house to hear what he would say; -and the moment he saw them he roared out, “Oh, my friends, my pig is -stolen!” Upon this Bruno whispered to him and said, “Well, I am glad -to see you wise in your life for once.” “Alas!” quoth he, “it is too -true.” “Keep to the same story,” said Bruno, “and make noise enough for -every one to believe you.” - -Calandrino now began to bawl louder, “Indeed! I vow and swear to you -that it is stolen.” “That’s right; be sure you let everybody hear you, -that it may appear so.” “Do you think that I would forswear myself -about it? May I be hanged this moment if it is not so!” “How is it -possible!” quoth Bruno; “I saw it but last night; never imagine that -I can believe it.” “It is so, however,” answered he, “and I am undone. -I dare not now go home again, for my wife will never believe me, and -I shall have no peace this twelve-month.” “It is a most unfortunate -thing,” said Bruno, “if it be true; but you know I put it into your -head to say so last night, and you should not make sport both of your -wife and us at the same time.” - -At this Calandrino began to roar out afresh, saying, “Good God! you -make me mad to hear you talk. I tell you once for all it was stolen -this very night!” “Nay, if it be so,” quoth Buffalmacco, “we must think -of some way to get it back again.” “And what way must we take,” said he -“to find it?” “Depend upon it,” replied the other, “that nobody came -from the Indies to steal it; it must be somewhere in your neighborhood, -and if you could get the people together I could make a charm, with -some bread and cheese, that would soon discover the thief.” “True,” -said Bruno, “but they would know in that case what you were about; and -the person that has it would never come near you.” “How must we manage, -then?” said Buffalmacco. “Oh!” replied Bruno, “you shall see me do it -with some pills of ginger and a little wine, which I will ask them to -come and drink. They will have no suspicion what our design is, and we -can make a charm of these as well as of the bread and cheese.” “Very -well,” quoth the other. “What do you say, Calandrino? Have you a mind -we should try it?” “For Heaven’s sake do,” he said; “if I only knew who -the thief is, I should be half comforted.” “Well, then,” quoth Bruno, -“I am ready to go to Florence for the things, if you will only give me -some money.” He happened to have a few florins in his pocket, which he -gave him, and off went Bruno. - -When he got to Florence, Bruno went to a friend’s house and bought a -pound of ginger made into pills. He also got two pills made of aloes, -which had a private mark that he should not mistake them, being candied -over with sugar like the rest. Then, having bought a jar of good -wine, he returned to Calandrino, and said, “To-morrow you must take -care to invite every one that you have the least suspicion of; it is -a holiday, and they will be glad to come. We will finish the charm -to-night, and bring the things to your house in the morning, and then I -will take care to do and say on your behalf what is necessary upon such -an occasion.” - -Calandrino did as he was told, and in the morning he had nearly all the -people in the parish assembled under an elm-tree in the churchyard. His -two friends produced the pills and wine, and, making the people stand -round in a circle, Bruno said to them, “Gentlemen, it is fit that I -should tell you the reason of your being summoned here in this manner, -to the end, if anything should happen which you do not like, that I -be not blamed for it. You must know, then, that Calandrino had a pig -stolen last night, and, as some of the company here must have taken -it, he, that he may find out the thief, would have every man take and -eat one of these pills, and drink a glass of wine after it. Whoever -the guilty person is, you will find he will not be able to get a bit -of it down, but it will taste so bitter that he will be forced to spit -it out. Therefore, to prevent such open shame, he had better, whoever -he is, make a secret confession to the priest, and I will proceed no -further.” - -All present declared their readiness to eat; so, placing them all in -order, he gave every man his pill and coming to Calandrino, he gave one -of the aloe pills to him, which he straightway put into his mouth, and -no sooner did he began to chew it than he was forced to spit it out. -Every one was now attentive to see who spit his pill out, and while -Bruno kept going round, apparently taking no notice of Calandrino, he -heard somebody say behind him, “Hey-day! what is the meaning of its -disagreeing so with Calandrino?” Bruno now turned suddenly about, and -seeing that Calandrino had spit out his pill, he said, “Stay a little, -honest friends, and be not too hasty in judging; it may be something -else that has made him spit, and therefore he shall try another.” So he -gave him the other aloe pill, and then went on to the rest that were -unserved. But if the first was bitter to him, this he thought much -more so. However, he endeavored to get it down as well as he could. -But it was impossible; it made the tears run down his cheeks, and he -was forced to spit it out at last, as he had done the other. In the -meantime Buffalmacco was going about with the wine; but when he and all -of them saw what Calandrino had done, they began to bawl out that he -had robbed himself, and some of them abused him roundly. - -After they were all gone, Buffalmacco said, “I always thought that you -yourself were the thief, and that you were willing to make us believe -the pig was stolen in order to keep your money in your pocket, lest we -should expect a treat upon the occasion.” Calandrino, who had still the -taste of the aloes in his mouth, fell a-swearing that he knew nothing -of the matter. “Honor bright, now, comrade,” said Buffalmacco, “what -did you get for it?” This made Calandrino quite furious. - -To crown all, Bruno struck in: “I was just now told,” said he, “by -one of the company, that you have a mistress in this neighborhood to -whom you are very kind, and that he is confident you have given it to -her. You know you once took us to the plains of Mugnone, to look for -some black stones, when you left us in the lurch, and pretended you -had found them; and now you think to make us believe that your pig is -stolen, when you have either given it away or sold it. You have played -so many tricks upon us, that we intend to be fooled no more by you. -Therefore, as we have had a deal of trouble in the affair, you shall -make us amends by giving us two couple of fowls, unless you mean that -we should tell your wife.” - -Calandrino, now perceiving that he would not be believed, and being -unwilling to have them add to his troubles by bringing his wife upon -his back, was forced to give them the fowls, which they joyfully -carried off along with the pork. - - --_The Decameron._ - -Rather earlier than Boccaccio lived Rustico di Filippo, who gives us -the following satirical bit. - - - _THE MAKING OF MASTER MESSERIN_ - - When God had finished Master Messerin, - He really thought it something to have done: - Bird, man, and beast had got a chance in one, - And each felt flattered, it was hoped, therein. - For he is like a goose i’ the windpipe thin, - And like a camelopard high i’ the loins, - To which for manhood, you’ll be told, he joins - Some kind of flesh hues and a callow chin. - As to his singing, he affects the crow, - As to his learning, beasts in general, - And sets all square by dressing like a man. - God made him, having nothing else to do, - And proved there is not anything at all - He cannot make, if that’s a thing He can. - -Among other collections of tales was the _Novellino_, collected by -Massuchio di Salerno, about the middle of the Fifteenth Century. - -We quote - - - _THE INHERITANCE OF A LIBRARY_ - -Jeronimo, who had inherited the place of master and head of the house, -found himself in possession of many thousand florins in ready money. -Wherefore the youth, seeing that he himself had endured no labor and -weariness in gathering together the same, forthwith made up his mind -not to place his affection in possessions of this sort, and at once -began to array himself in sumptuous garments, to taste the pleasures of -the town in the company of certain chosen companions of his, to indulge -in amorous adventures, and in a thousand other ways to dissipate his -substance abroad without restraint of any kind. Not only did he banish -from his mind all thought and design of continuing his studies, but he -even went so far as to harbor against the books, which his father had -held in such high esteem and reverence and had bequeathed to him, the -most fierce and savage hatred. So violent, indeed, was his resentment -against them that he set them down as the worst foes he had in the -world. - -On a certain day it happened that the young man, either by accident -or for some reason of his own, betook himself into the library of his -dead father, and there his eye fell upon a vast quantity of handsome -and well-arranged books, such as are wont to be found in places of this -sort. At the first sight of these he was somewhat stricken with fear, -and with a certain apprehension that the spirit of his father might -pursue him; but, having collected his courage somewhat, he turned with -a look of hatred on his face toward the aforesaid books and began to -address them in the following terms: - -“Books, books, so long as my father was alive you waged against me war -unceasing, forasmuch as he spent all his time and trouble either in -purchasing you, or in putting you in fair bindings; so that, whenever -it might happen that there came upon me the need of a few florins or -of certain other articles, which all youths find necessary, he would -always refuse to let me have them, saying that it was his will and -pleasure to dispense his money only in the purchase of such books as -might please him. And over and beyond this, he purposed in his mind -that I, altogether against my will, should spend my life in close -companionship with you, and over this matter there arose between us -many times angry and contumelious words. Many times, also, you have put -me in danger of being driven into perpetual exile from this my home. -Therefore it cannot but be pleasing to God--since it is no fault of -yours that I was not hunted forth from this place--that I should send -you packing from this my house in such fashion that not a single one -of you will ever behold my door again. And, in sooth, I wonder more -especially that you have not before this disordered my wits, a feat -you might well have accomplished with very little more trouble on your -part, in your desire to do with me as you did with my father, according -to my clear recollection. He, poor man, as if he had become bemused -through conversing with you alone, was accustomed to demean himself -in strange fashion, moving his hands and his head in such wise that -over and over again I counted him to be one bereft of reason. Now, on -account of all this, I bid you have a little patience, for the reason -that I have made up my mind to sell you all forthwith, and thus in a -single hour to avenge myself for all the outrages I have suffered on -your account and, over and beyond this, to set myself free from the -possible danger of going mad.” - -After he had thus spoken, and had packed up divers volumes of the -aforesaid books--one of his servants helping him in the work--he sent -the parcel to the house of a certain lawyer, who was a friend of his, -and then in a very few words came to an agreement with the lawyer as to -the business, the issue of the affair being that, though he had simply -expelled the books from his house, and had not sold them, he received, -nevertheless, on account of the same, several hundred florins. With -these, added to the money which still remained in his purse, he -continued to pursue the course of pleasure he had begun. - - * * * * * - -Another ironical skit is by Francesco Berni, entitled - - - _LIVING IN BED_ - - Yet field-sports, dice, cards, balls, and such like courses, - Things which he might be thought to set store by, - Gave him but little pleasure. He liked horses, - But was content to let them please his eye-- - Buying them, not squaring with his resources. - Therefore his _summum bonum_ was to lie - Stretch’d at full length--yea, frankly be it said, - To do no single thing but lie in bed. - - ’Twas owing all to that infernal writing. - Body and brains had borne such grievous rounds - Of kicks, cuffs, floors, from copying and inditing, - That he could find no balsam for his wounds, - No harbor for his wreck half so inviting - As to lie still, far from all sights and sounds, - And so, in bed, do nothing on God’s earth - But try and give his senses a new birth. - - “Bed--bed’s the thing, by Heaven!” thus would he swear. - “Bed is your only work, your only duty. - Bed is one’s gown, one’s slippers, one’s armchair, - Old coat; you’re not afraid to spoil its beauty. - Large you may have it, long, wide, brown, or fair, - Down-bed or mattress, just as it may suit ye. - Then take your clothes off, turn in, stretch, lie double; - Be but in bed, you’re quit of earthly trouble!” - - Borne to the fairy palace then, but tired - Of seeing so much dancing, he withdrew - Into a distant room, and there desired - A bed might be set up, handsome and new, - With all the comforts that the case required: - Mattresses huge, and pillows not a few - Put here and there, in order that no ease - Might be found wanting to cheeks, or arms, or knees. - - The bed was eight feet wide, lovely to see, - With white sheets, and fine curtains, and rich loops - Things vastly soothing to calamity; - The coverlet hung light in silken droops; - It might have held six people easily; - But he disliked to lie in bed by groups. - A large bed to himself, that was his notion, - With room enough to swim in--like the ocean. - - In this retreat there joined him a good soul, - A Frenchman, one who had been long at court, - An admirable cook--though, on the whole, - His gains of his deserts had fallen short. - For him was made, cheek, as it were, by jowl, - A second bed of the same noble sort, - Yet not so close but that the folks were able - To set between the two a dinner-table. - - Here was served up, on snow-white table-cloths, - Each daintiest procurable comestible - In the French taste (all others being Goths), - Dishes alike delightful and digestible. - Only our scribe chose sirups, soups, and broths, - The smallest trouble being a detestable - Bore, into which not ev’n his dinner led him. - Therefore the servants always came and fed him. - - Nothing at these times but his head was seen; - The coverlet came close beneath his chin; - And then, from out the bottle or tureen, - They fill’d a silver pipe, which he let in - Between his lips, all easy, smooth, and clean, - And so he filled his philosophic skin. - And not a finger all the while he stirred, - Nor, lest his tongue should tire, scarce uttered word. - - The name of that same cook was Master Pierre; - He told a tale well--something short and light. - Quoth scribe, “Those people who keep dancing there - Have little wit.” Quoth Pierre, “You’re very right.” - And then he told a tale, or hummed an air; - Then took a sip of something, or a bite; - And then he turned himself to sleep; and then - Awoke and ate. And then he slept again. - - One more thing I may note that made the day - Pass well--one custom, not a little healing, - Which was, to look above him, as he lay. - And count the spots and blotches in the ceiling; - Noting what shapes they took to, and which way, - And where the plaster threatened to be peeling; - Whether the spot looked new, or old, or what-- - Or whether ’twas, in fact, a spot or not. - --From _Roland Enamored_. - -Francho Sacchetti, poet and novelist, wrote many stories and verses in -lighter vein. - - - _ON A WET DAY_ - - As I walk’d thinking through a little grove, - Some girls that gather’d flowers came passing me, - Saying--“Look here! look there!” delightedly. - “O here it is!” “What’s that?” “A lily? love!” - “And there are violets!” - “Farther for roses! O the lovely pets! - The darling beauties! O the nasty thorn! - Look here, my hand’s all torn!” - “What’s that that jumps?” “O don’t! it’s a grasshopper!” - “Come, run! come, run! - Here’s blue-bells!” “O what fun!” - “Not that way! stop her!” - “Yes! this way!” “Pluck them then!” - “O, I’ve found mushrooms! O look here!” “O, I’m - Quite sure that farther on we’ll get wild thyme.” - “O, we shall stay too long; it’s going to rain; - There’s lightning; O! there’s thunder!” - “O sha’n’t we hear the vesper bell? I wonder.” - “Why, it’s not nones, you silly little thing! - And don’t you hear the nightingales that sing-- - Fly away O die away?” - “O, I hear something; hush!” - “Why, where? what is it then?” “Ah! in that bush.” - So every girl here knocks it, shakes and shocks it: - Till with the stir they make - Out skurries a great snake. - “O Lord! O me! Alack! Ah me! alack!” - They scream, and then all run and scream again, - And then in heavy drops comes down the rain. - - Each running at the other in a fright, - Each trying to get before the other, and crying. - And flying, and stumbling, tumbling, wrong or right;-- - One sets her knee - There where her foot should be; - One has her hands and dress - All smother’d up with mud in a fine mess; - And one gets trampled on by two or three. - What’s gathered is let fall - About the wood, and not pick’d up at all. - The wreaths of flowers are scatter’d on the ground, - And still as, screaming, hustling, without rest, - They run this way and that and round and round, - She thinks herself in luck who runs the best. - - I stood quite still to have a perfect view, - And never noticed till I got wet through. - --_Translated by Rossetti._ - -This brings us to Benvenuto Cellini, who, though not classed among the -humorists, gives us many flashes of wit and humor in his celebrated -Biography. - - - _A COMPULSORY MARRIAGE AT SWORD’S POINT_ - -One of those busy personages who delight in spreading mischief came to -inform me that Paolo Micceri had taken a house for his new lady and her -mother, and that he made use of the most injurious and contemptuous -expressions regarding me, to wit: - -“Poor Benvenuto! he paid the piper while I danced; and now he goes -about boasting of the exploit. He thinks I am afraid of him--I, who can -wear a sword and dagger as well as he. But I would have him to know my -weapons are as keen as his. I, too, am a Florentine, and come of the -Micceri, a much better house than the Cellini any time of day.” - -In short, the vile informer painted the things in such colors to my -disadvantage that it fired my whole blood. I was in a fever of the most -dangerous kind. And feeling it must kill me unless it found vent, I had -recourse to my usual means on such occasions. I called to my workman, -Chioccia, to accompany me, and told another to follow me with my horse. -On reaching the wretch’s house, finding the door half open, I entered -abruptly in. There he sat with his precious “lady-love,” his boasted -sword and dagger beside him, in the very act of jesting with the elder -woman upon my affairs. To slam the door, draw my sword and present the -point to his throat, was the work of a moment, giving him no time to -think of defending himself: - -“Vile poltroon, recommend thy soul to God! Thou art a dead man!” - -In the excess of his terror he cried out thrice, in a feeble voice, -“Mama! mama! mama! Help, help, help!” - -At this ludicrous appeal, so like a girl’s, and the ridiculous manner -in which it was uttered, though I had a mind to kill, I lost half my -rage and could not forbear laughing. Turning to Chioccia, however, I -bade him make fast the door; for I was resolved to inflict the same -punishment upon all three. Still with my sword-point at his throat, -and pricking him a little now and then, I terrified him with the most -desperate threats, and finding that he made no defense, was rather at -a loss how to proceed. It was too poor a revenge--it was nothing--when -suddenly it came into my head to make it effectual, and compel him to -espouse the girl upon the spot. - -“Up! Off with that ring on thy finger, villain!” I cried. “Marry her -this instant, and then I shall have my full revenge.” - -“Anything--anything you like, provided you will not kill me,” he -eagerly answered. - -Removing my sword a little: - -“Now, then,” I said, “put on the ring.” - -He did so, trembling all the time. - -“This is not enough. Go and bring me two notaries to draw up the -contract.” Then, addressing the girl and her mother in French: - -“While the notaries and witnesses are coming, I will give you a word of -advice. The first of you that I know to utter a word about my affairs, -I will kill you--all three. So remember.” - -I afterward said in Italian to Paolo: - -“If you offer the slightest opposition to the least thing I choose to -propose, I will cut you up into mince-meat with this good sword.” - -“It is enough,” he interrupted in alarm, “that you will not kill me. I -will do whatever you wish.” - -So this singular contract was duly drawn out and signed. My rage -and fever were gone. I paid the notaries, and went home.--_The -Biography._ - - - _CRITICISM OF A STATUE OF HERCULES_ - -Bandinello was incensed to such a degree that he was ready to burst -with fury, and turning to me said, “What faults have you to find with -my statues?” - -I answered, “I will soon tell them, if you have but the patience to -hear me.” - -He replied, “Tell them, then.” - -The duke and all present listened with the utmost attention. I began -by promising that I was sorry to be obliged to lay before him all -the blemishes of his work, and that I was not so properly delivering -my own sentiments as declaring what was said of it by the artistic -school of Florence. However, as the fellow at one time said something -disobliging, at another made some offensive gesture with his hands or -his feet, he put me into such a passion that I behaved with a rudeness -which I should otherwise have avoided. - -“The artistic school of Florence,” said I, “declares what follows: -If the hair of your Hercules were shaved off, there would not remain -skull enough to hold his brains. With regard to his face, it is hard -to distinguish whether it be the face of a man, or that of a creature -something between a lion and an ox; it discovers no attention to what -it is about; and it is so ill set upon the neck, with so little art -and in so ungraceful a manner, that a more shocking piece of work was -never seen. His great brawny shoulders resemble the two pommels of an -ass’s packsaddle. His breasts and their muscles bear no similitude to -those of a man, but seem to have been drawn from a sack of melons. -As he leans directly against the wall, the small of the back has the -appearance of a bag filled with long cucumbers. It is impossible to -conceive in what manner the two legs are fastened to this distorted -figure, for it is hard to distinguish upon which leg he stands, or -upon which he exerts any effort of his strength; nor does he appear to -stand upon both, as he is sometimes represented by those masters of -the art of statuary who know something of their business. It is plain, -too, that the statue inclines more than one-third of a cubit forward; -and this is the greatest and the most insupportable blunder which -pretenders to sculpture can be guilty of. As for the arms, they both -hang down in the most awkward and ungraceful manner imaginable; and so -little art is displayed in them that people would be almost tempted to -think that you had never seen a naked man in your life. The right leg -of Hercules and that of Cacus touch at the middle of their calves, and -if they were to be separated, not one of them only, but both, would -remain without a calf, in the place where they touch. Besides, one of -the feet of the Hercules is quite buried, and the other looks as if it -stood upon hot coals.”--_The Biography._ - - - - - SPANISH WIT AND HUMOR - -The Spanish literature of this time contains little that can be quoted -as humor. - -Hurtado de Mendoza, a novelist, historian and poet, and Lope de Vega, -dramatist, are the principal names among the Spanish writers. - -About 1600 there flourished a poet named Baltazar del Alcazar, whose -work shows a rather modern type of humor. - - - _SLEEP_ - - Sleep is no servant of the will; - It has caprices of its own; - When most pursued, ’tis swiftly gone; - When courted least, it lingers still. - With its vagaries long perplext, - I turned and turned my restless sconce, - Till, one fine night, I thought at once - I’d master it. So hear my text. - - When sleep doth tarry, I begin - My long and well-accustomed prayer, - And in a twinkling sleep is there, - Through my bed-curtains peeping in. - When sleep hangs heavy on my eyes, - I think of debts I fain would pay, - And then, as flies night’s shade from day, - Sleep from my heavy eyelids flies. - - And, thus controlled, the winged one bends - E’en his fantastic will to me, - And, strange yet true, both I and he - Are friends--the very best of friends. - We are a happy wedded pair, - And I the lord and he the dame; - Our bed, our board, our dreams the same, - And we’re united everywhere. - - I’ll tell you where I learned to school - This wayward sleep: a whispered word - From a church-going hag I heard, - And tried it, for I was no fool. - So, from that very hour I knew - That, having ready prayers to pray, - And having many debts to pay, - Will serve for sleep, and waking too. - -In 1605 was published the first part of _Don Quixote de la Mancha_ -the celebrated satirical work of Miguel de Cervantes. - -Of this book Hallam says, “it is the only Spanish book which can be -said to possess a European reputation.” - -Its reputation is world wide and fine translations have given us the -spirit of the original. - - - _HE SECURES SANCHO PANZA AS HIS SQUIRE_ - -In the meantime, Don Quixote tampered with a laborer, a neighbor of -his and an honest man (if such an epithet can be given to one that is -poor), but shallow-brained; in short, he said so much, used so many -arguments and made so many promises, that the poor fellow resolved to -sally out with him and serve him in the capacity of a squire. Among -other things, Don Quixote told him that he ought to be very glad to -accompany him, for such an adventure might, some time or the other, -occur that by one stroke an island might be won, where he might leave -him governor. With this and other promises, Sancho Panza (for that was -the laborer’s name) left his wife and children and engaged himself as -squire to his neighbor. Don Quixote now set about raising money; and, -by selling one thing, pawning another, and losing by all, he collected -a tolerable sum. He fitted himself likewise with a buckler, which he -borrowed of a friend, and, patching up his broken helmet in the best -manner he could, he acquainted his squire Sancho of the day and hour -he intended to set out, that he might provide himself with what he -thought would be most needful. Above all, he charged him not to forget -a wallet, which Sancho assured him he would not neglect; he said also -that he thought of taking an ass with him, as he had a very good one, -and he was not used to travel much on foot. With regard to the ass, -Don Quixote paused a little, endeavoring to recollect whether any -knight-errant had ever carried a squire mounted on ass-back, but no -instance of the kind occurred to his memory. However, he consented that -he should take his ass, resolving to accommodate him more honorably, at -the earliest opportunity, by dismounting the first discourteous knight -he should meet. He provided himself also with shirts, and other things, -conformably to the advice given him by the innkeeper. - -All this being accomplished, Don Quixote and Sancho Panza, without -taking leave, the one of his wife and children, or the other of -his housekeeper and niece, one night sallied out of the village -unperceived; and they travelled so hard that by break of day they -believed themselves secure, even if search were made after them. Sancho -Panza proceeded upon his ass like a patriarch, with his wallet and -leathern bottle, and with a vehement desire to find himself governor -of the island which his master had promised him. Don Quixote happened -to take the same route as on his first expedition, over the plain of -Montiel, which he passed with less inconvenience than before; for it -was early in the morning, and the rays of the sun, darting on them -horizontally, did not annoy them. Sancho Panza now said to his master, -“I beseech your worship, good Sir Knight-errant, not to forget your -promise concerning that same island, for I shall know how to govern -it, be it ever so large.” To which Don Quixote answered: “Thou must -know, friend Sancho Panza, that it was a custom much in use among the -knights-errant of old to make their squires governors of the islands or -kingdoms they conquered; and I am determined that so laudable a custom -shall not be lost through my neglect; on the contrary, I resolve to -outdo them in it, for they, sometimes, and perhaps most times, waited -till their squires were grown old; and when they were worn out in -their service, and had endured many bad days and worse nights, they -conferred on them some title, such as count, or at least marquis, of -some valley or province of more or less account; but if you live and -I live, before six days have passed I may probably win such a kingdom -as may have others depending on it, just fit for thee to be crowned -king of one of them. And do not think this any extraordinary matter, -for things fall out to knights by such unforeseen and unexpected ways, -that I may easily give thee more than I promise.” “So, then,” answered -Sancho Panza, “if I were a king, by some of those miracles your worship -mentions, Joan Gutierrez, my duck, would come to be a queen, and my -children infantas!” “Who doubts it?” answered Don Quixote. “I doubt -it,” replied Sancho Panza; “for I am verily persuaded that, if God -were to rain down kingdoms upon the earth, none of them would set well -upon the head of Mary Gutierrez; for you must know, sir, she is not -worth two farthings for a queen. The title of countess would sit better -upon her, with the help of Heaven and good friends.” “Recommend her -to God, Sancho,” answered Don Quixote, “and He will do what is best -for her; but do thou have a care not to debase thy mind so low as to -content thyself with being less than a viceroy.” “Sir, I will not,” -answered Sancho; “especially having so great a man for my master as -your worship, who will know how to give me whatever is most fitting for -me and what I am best able to bear.” - - - _OF THE VALOROUS DON QUIXOTE’S SUCCESS IN THE DREADFUL AND - NEVER-BEFORE-IMAGINED ADVENTURE OF THE WINDMILLS_ - -Engaged in this discourse, they came in sight of thirty or forty -windmills which are in that plain; and as soon as Don Quixote espied -them, he said to his squire, “Fortune disposes our affairs better than -we ourselves could have desired; look yonder, friend Sancho Panza, -where thou mayest discover somewhat more than thirty monstrous giants, -whom I intend to encounter and slay, and with their spoils we will -begin to enrich ourselves; for it is lawful war, and doing God good -service, to remove so wicked a generation from off the face of the -earth.” “What giants?” said Sancho Panza. “Those thou seest yonder,” -answered his master, “with their long arms; for some are wont to have -them almost of the length of two leagues.” - -“Look, sir,” answered Sancho, “those which appear yonder are not -giants, but windmills, and what seem to be arms are the sails, which, -whirled about by the wind, make the millstone go.” “It is very -evident,” answered Don Quixote, “that thou art not versed in the -business of adventures. They are giants; and if thou art afraid, get -thee aside and pray, whilst I engage with them in fierce and unequal -combat.” So saying, he clapped spurs to his steed, notwithstanding the -cries his squire sent after him, assuring him that they were certainly -windmills, and not giants. But he was so fully possessed that they were -giants, that he neither heard the outcries of his squire Sancho, nor -yet discerned what they were, though he was very near them, but went -on, crying out aloud, “Fly not, ye cowards and vile caitiffs! for it is -a single knight who assaults you.” The wind now rising a little, the -great sails began to move, upon which Don Quixote called out, “Although -ye should have more arms than the giant Briareus, ye shall pay for it.” - -Thus recommending himself devoutly to his lady Dulcinea, beseeching -her to succor him in the present danger, being well covered with his -buckler and setting his lance in the rest he rushed on as fast as -Rozinante could gallop and attacked the first mill before him, when, -running his lance into the sail, the wind whirled it about with so -much violence that it broke the lance to shivers, dragging horse and -rider after it, and tumbling them over and over on the plain in very -evil plight. Sancho Panza hastened to his assistance as fast as the ass -could carry him; and when he came up to his master he found him unable -to stir, so violent was the blow which he and Rozinante had received in -their fall. - -“God save me!” quoth Sancho, “did not I warn you to have a care of what -you did, for that they were nothing but windmills? And nobody could -mistake them but one that had the like in his head.” - -“Peace, friend Sancho,” answered Don Quixote; “for matters of war -are, of all others, most subject to continual change. Now I verily -believe, and it is most certainly the fact, that the sage Freston, who -stole away my chamber and books, has metamorphosed these giants into -windmills, on purpose to deprive me of the glory of vanquishing them, -so great is the enmity he bears me! But his wicked arts will finally -avail but little against the goodness of my sword.” - -“God grant it!” answered Sancho Panza. Then, helping him to rise, he -mounted him again upon his steed, which was almost disjointed.--_Don -Quixote._ - - - THE SEVENTEENTH CENTURY - -Though still serious-minded in the main, the world at the beginning of -the Seventeenth century recognized and appreciated humor. - -And, growing with what it fed upon the vein of humor became more marked -and more important in literature. - -Wherefore our outline must from now on be less comprehensive and more -discriminating. - -The field is getting too wide, the harvest too bountiful for gleaning, -even for general reaping; we can now only pluck spears of ripened grain. - -An Outline can touch only the high spots, and though many wonderful -flashes of wit and humor occur in the works of the most serious writers -space cannot be given to such, it must be conserved for the definitely -and intentionally humorous writers. - -This is greatly to be regretted, for not infrequently the jests of the -serious-minded are more intrinsically witty than those of professed -humorists. - -As an example may be mentioned George Herbert, the famous clergyman who -was called Holy George Herbert. - -His religious writings are interspersed with flashes of exquisite wit. - -“God gave thy soul brave wings; put not those feathers Into a bed to -sleep out all ill weathers,” - -is a most graceful bit of word play. - -And so with scores, even hundreds of worthy writers, among whose pages -brilliant shafts of wit are found. - -Such excursions we have no room for, and must abide by the inexorable -laws of limitation. - -Nor can such a matter as the Ballads be touched upon. - -The historical ballads of this time were narrative poems of exceeding -great length and usually, of exceeding great dulness. Fun they show, -here and there, but the bulk of them are destitute of mirth-provoking -lines. - -Not so the Ballad Literature intended for social diversion and lovers -of ribaldry. These, in large numbers, were put forth, and were oftener -than not, founded on the old Jest Books, the Merry Tales, and even the -Gesta and Fabliaux of earlier days. - -Collections of these include the effusions of the balladists from the -short stanzas, mere epigrams, to the intolerably long tales based on -political or religious matters. - -Yet it is at this juncture we must mention the name of Thomas Hobbes, -the Malmesbury Philosopher, and a most important figure of the -seventeenth century. - -Not because of his own wit or humor, but of his understanding and -valuation of it. - -His observations on laughter, hereinbefore referred to, must be quoted -entire. - - - FROM HUMAN NATURE - - - _LAUGHTER_ - -There is a passion that hath no name; but the sign of it is that -distortion of the countenance which we call laughter, which is always -joy: but what joy, what we think, and wherein we triumph when we laugh, -is not hitherto declared by any. That it consisteth in wit, or, as they -call it, in the jest, experience confuteth; for men laugh at mischances -and indecencies, wherein there lieth no wit nor jest at all. And -forasmuch as the same thing is no more ridiculous when it groweth stale -or usual, whatsoever it be that moveth laughter, it must be new and -unexpected. Men laugh often--especially such as are greedy of applause -from everything they do well--at their own actions performed never so -little beyond their own expectations as also at their own jests: and -in this case it is manifest that the passion of laughter proceedeth -from a sudden conception of some ability in himself that laugheth. -Also, men laugh at the infirmities of others by comparison wherewith -their own abilities are set off and illustrated. Also men laugh at -jests the wit whereof always consisteth in the elegant discovering and -conveying to our minds some absurdity of another; and in this case also -the passion of laughter proceedeth from the sudden imagination of our -own odds and eminency; for what is else the recommending of ourselves -to our own good opinion, by comparison with another man’s infirmity or -absurdity? For when a jest is broken upon ourselves, or friends, of -whose dishonour we participate, we never laugh thereat. I may therefore -conclude that the passion of laughter is nothing else but sudden glory -arising from a sudden conception of some eminency in ourselves, by -comparison with the infirmity of others, or with our own formerly; for -men laugh at the follies of themselves past, when they come suddenly -to remembrance, except they bring with them any present dishonour. -It is no wonder, therefore, that men take heinously to be laughed at -or derided--that is, triumphed over. Laughing without offence must be -at absurdities and infirmities abstracted from persons, and when all -the company may laugh together; for laughing to one’s self putteth all -the rest into jealousy and examination of themselves. Besides, it is -vain-glory, and an argument of little worth, to think the infirmity of -another sufficient matter for his triumph. - - * * * * * - -Robert Herrick, among the most exquisite of lyric poets, was a -classical scholar, addicted to Martial. His works, neglected for long -years, came into their own about a century ago, and his spontaneous -gayety and tenderness is not frequently equalled. - -The temptation is to quote his lyrics, but his whimsical humor is more -clearly shown in his waggish lines. - - - _THE KISS--A DIALOGUE_ - - 1. Among thy fancies, tell me this: - What is the thing we call a kisse? - 2. I shall resolve ye, what it is. - - It is a creature born and bred - Between the lips, (all cherrie red,) - By love and warme desires fed; - _Chorus._--And makes more soft the bridal bed. - - 2. It is an active flame, that flies - First to the babies of the eyes, pupils - And charms them there with lullabies; - _Chorus._--And stils the bride too, when she cries. - - 2. Then to the chin, the cheek, the eare - It frisks and flyes; now here, now there; - ’Tis now farre off, and then ’tis nere; - _Chorus._--And here, and there, and every where. - - 1. Has it a speaking virtue?--2. Yes. - 1. How speaks it, say?--2. Do you but this, - Part your joyn’d lips, then speaks your kisse; - _Chorus._--And this loves sweetest language is. - - 1. Has it a body?--2. Ay, and wings, - With thousand rare encolourings; - And as it flies, it gently sings, - _Chorus._--Love honie yeelds, but never stings. - - - _A TERNARY OF LITTLES, UPON A PIPKIN OF JELLY SENT TO A LADY_ - - A little saint best fits a little shrine, - A little prop best fits a little vine; - As my small cruse best fits my little wine. - - A little seed best fits a little soil, - A little trade best fits a little toil; - As my small jar best fits my little oil. - - A little bin best fits a little bread, - A little garland fits a little head; - As my small stuff best fits my little shed. - - A little hearth best fits a little fire, - A little chapel fits a little choir; - As my small bell best fits my little spire. - - A little stream best fits a little boat, - A little lead best fits a little float; - As my small pipe best fits my little note. - - A little meat best fits a little belly, - As sweetly, lady, give me leave to tell ye, - This little pipkin fits this little jelly. - -Thomas Carew, Edmund Waller, Sir John Suckling and Richard Lovelace -all followed more or less in Herrick’s footsteps, and though each -possessed what is called a pretty wit, they were not primarily humorous -writers. - -A few poems are given, perhaps of more lyric than witty value. - - - RICHARD LOVELACE - - _SONG_ - - Why should you swear I am forsworn, - Since thine I vowed to be? - Lady, it is already morn, - And ’twas last night I swore to thee - That fond impossibility. - - Have I not loved thee much and long, - A tedious twelve hours’ space? - I must all other beauties wrong, - And rob thee of a new embrace, - Could I still dote upon thy face. - - Not but all joy in thy brown hair - By others may be found; - But I must search the black and fair, - Like skilful mineralists that sound - For treasure in unploughed-up ground. - - Then, if when I have loved my round, - Thou prov’st the pleasant she; - With spoils of meaner beauties crowned - I laden will return to thee, - Even sated with variety. - - - SIR JOHN SUCKLING - - _THE CONSTANT LOVER_ - - Out upon it! I have loved - Three whole days together, - And am like to love three more, - If it prove fair weather. - - Time shall moult away his wings - Ere he shall discover - In the whole wide world again - Such a constant lover. - - But the spite on ’tis, no praise - Is due at all to me: - Love with me had made no stays, - Had it any been but she. - - Had it any been but she, - And that very face, - There had been at least ere this - A dozen dozen in her place. - - - _THE REMONSTRANCE_ - - Why so pale and wan, fond lover? - Prithee, why so pale? - Will, when looking well can’t move her, - Looking ill prevail? - Prithee, why so pale? - - Why so dull and mute, young sinner? - Prithee, why so mute? - Will, when speaking well can’t win her, - Saying nothing do’t? - Prithee, why so mute? - - Quite, quit, for shame! this will not move, - This cannot take her; - If of herself she will not love, - Nothing can make her: - The devil take her! - -John Milton, second only to Shakespeare in all literature, is not -usually looked upon as a humorist. - -A wise commentator (of more wisdom than wit), has said, of Milton, “Few -great poets are so utterly without humor; alone among the greatest -poets he has not sung of love.” - -We take objection to both these statements, though with the second we -are not now concerned. - -But surely no humorless pen could have indited _L’Allegro_, and as -to less subtle humor, we give in evidence the well known Epitaph on the -Carrier. - - - _FROM L’ALLEGRO_ - - But come, thou goddess fair and free, - In heaven yclep’d Euphrosyne, - And by men, heart-easing Mirth; - Whom lovely Venus, at a birth, - With two sister Graces more, - To ivy-crowned Bacchus bore: - Or whether (as some sages sing) - The frolic wind that breathes the spring, - Zephyr, with Aurora, playing, - As he met her once a-Maying! - There on beds of violets blue, - And fresh-blown roses wash’d in dew, - Fill’d her with thee, a daughter fair, - So buxom, blithe, and debonair. - Haste thee, nymph, and bring with thee - Jest, and youthful jollity, - Quips, and cranks, and wanton wiles, - Nods, and becks, and wreathed smiles, - Such as hang on Hebe’s cheek, - And love to live in dimple sleek; - Sport that wrinkled Care derides, - And Laughter holding both his sides - Come, and trip it, as you go, - On the light fantastic toe; - And in thy right hand lead with thee - The mountain nymph, sweet Liberty; - And if I give thee honor due, - Mirth, admit me of thy crew, - To live with her, and live with thee, - In unreproved pleasures free: - - * * * * * - - Then to the spicy nut-brown ale, - With stories told of many a feat, - How faery Mab the junkets ate; - She was pinch’d, and pulled, she said; - And he, by friar’s lantern led, - Tells how the drudging goblin sweat - To earn his cream-bowl duly set, - When in one night, ere glimpses of morn, - His shadowy flail had thresh’d the corn, - That ten day-laborers could not end; - Then lies him down, the lubber fiend, - And, stretched out all the chimney’s length, - Basks at the fire his hairy strength; - And, crop-full, out of doors he flings, - Ere the first cock his matin rings. - Thus done the tales, to bed they creep, - By whispering winds soon lull’d asleep. - Tower’d cities please us then, - And the busy hum of men. - Where throngs of knights and barons bold, - In weeds of peace, high triumphs hold, - With store of ladies, whose bright eyes - Rain influence, and judge and prize - Of wit or arms, while both contend - To win her grace, whom all commend. - There let Hymen oft appear - In saffron robes, with taper clear, - And pomp, and feast, and revelry, - With mask and antique pageantry; - Such sights as youthful poets dream - On summer eves by haunted stream. - Then to the well-trod stage anon, - If Jonson’s learned sock be on, - Or sweetest Shakespeare, Fancy’s child, - Warble his native wood-notes wild. - And ever, against eating cares, - Lap me in soft Lydian airs, - Married to immortal verse; - Such as the melting soul may pierce, - In notes with many a winding bout - Of linked sweetness long drawn out, - With wanton heed and giddy cunning, - The melting voice through mazes running, - Untwisting all the chains that tie - The hidden soul of harmony; - That Orpheus’ self may heave his head - From golden slumber on a bed - Of heap’d Elysian flowers, and hear - Such strains as would have won the ear - Of Pluto, to have quite set free - His half-regain’d Eurydice. - These delights if thou canst give, - Mirth, with thee I mean to live. - - - _EPITAPH FOR AN OLD UNIVERSITY CARRIER_ - - Here lieth one who did most truly prove - That he could never die while he could move; - So hung his destiny, never to rot - While he might still jog on and keep his trot; - Made of sphere-metal, never to decay - Until his revolution was at stay. - Time numbers motion, yet (without a crime - ’Gainst old truth) motion number’d out his time, - And, like an engine moved with wheel and weight, - His principles being ceased, he ended straight. - Rest, that gives all men life, gave him his death, - And too much breathing put him out of breath. - Nor were it contradiction to affirm, - Too long vacation hastened on his term. - Merely to drive away the time, he sicken’d, - Fainted, died, nor would with ale be quicken’d. - “Nay,” quoth he, on his swooning bed outstretch’d, - “If I mayn’t carry, sure I’ll ne’er be fetch’d, - But vow, though the cross doctors all stood hearers, - For one carrier put down to make six bearers.” - Ease was his chief disease; and, to judge right, - He died for heaviness that his cart went light. - His leisure told him that his time was come, - And lack of load made his life burdensome, - That even to his last breath (there be that say’t), - As he were press’d to death, he cried, “More weight!” - But had his doings lasted as they were, - He had been an immortal carrier. - Obedient to the moon, he spent his date - In course reciprocal, and had his fate - Link’d to the mutual flowing of the seas, - Yet (strange to think) his _wain_ was his _increase_. - His letters are deliver’d all and gone; - Only remains this superscription. - -Samuel Butler, a brilliant and satiric wit, wrote _Hudibras_, the -immortal Cavalier burlesque of the views and manners of the English -Puritans. In some degree imitated from _Don Quixote_ as to plan, -this burlesque is so full of shrewd wit and felicitous drollery as to -hold a unique place in literature. - -Like all such long works, it is difficult to quote from, but some -passages are given, as well as some of Butler’s clever epigrams. - - - _THE RELIGION OF HUDIBRAS_ - - For his religion it was fit - To match his learning and his wit: - Twas Presbyterian true blue; - For he was of that stubborn crew - Of errant saints, whom all men grant - To be the true Church militant; - Such as do build their faith upon - The holy text of pike and gun; - Decide all controversies by - Infallible artillery, - And prove their doctrine orthodox, - By apostolic blows and knocks; - Call fire, and sword, and desolation, - A godly, thorough reformation. - Which always must be carried on, - And still be doing, never done; - As if religion were intended - From nothing else but to be mended; - A sect whose chief devotion lies - In odd perverse antipathies; - In falling out with that or this, - And finding somewhat still amiss; - More peevish, cross, and splenetic, - Than dog distract or monkey sick; - That with more care keep holy-day - The wrong, than others the right way; - Compound for sins they are inclin’d to, - By damning those they have no mind to; - Still so perverse and opposite, - As if they worshipped God for spite; - The self-same thing they will abhor - One way, and long another for; - Free-will they one way disavow, - Another, nothing else allow; - All piety consists therein - In them, in other men all sin; - Rather than fail, they will defy - That which they love most tenderly; - Quarrel with minc’d pies, and disparage - Their best and dearest friend, plum porridge; - Fat pig and goose itself oppose, - And blaspheme custard through the nose. - - - _SAINTSHIP VERSUS CONSCIENCE_ - - “Why didst thou choose that cursed sin, - Hypocrisy, to set up in?” - “Because it is the thriving’st calling, - The only saints’ bell that rings all in; - In which all churches are concern’d, - And is the easiest to be learn’d.” - - * * * * * - - Quoth he, “I am resolv’d to be - Thy scholar in this mystery;” - “And therefore first desire to know - Some principles on which you go.” - - “What makes a knave a child of God, - And one of us?” “A livelihood.” - “What renders beating out of brains, - And murder, godliness?” “Great gains.” - “What’s tender conscience?” “’Tis a botch - That will not bear the gentlest touch; - But, breaking out, despatches more - Than th’ epidemical’st plague-sore.” - “What makes y’ incroach upon our trade, - And damn all others?” “To be paid.” - “What’s orthodox and true believing - Against a conscience?” “A good living.” - “What makes rebelling against kings - A good old cause?” “Administ’rings.” - “What makes all doctrines plain and clear?” - “About two hundred pounds a-year.” - “And that which was proved true before, - Prove false again?” “Two hundred more.” - “What makes the breaking of all oaths - A holy duty?” “Food and clothes.” - “What laws and freedom, persecution?” - “Being out of power, and contribution.” - “What makes a church a den of thieves?” - “A dean and chapter, and white sleeves.” - “And what would serve, if those were gone, - To make it orthodox?” “Our own.” - “What makes morality a crime, - The most notorious of the time-- - Morality, which both the saints - And wicked too cry out against?” - “’Cause grace and virtue are within - Prohibited degrees of kin; - And therefore no true saint allows - They shall be suffered to espouse.” - - - _DESCRIPTION OF HOLLAND_ - - A country that draws fifty foot of water, - In which men live as in the hold of Nature, - And when the sea does in upon them break, - And drowns a province, does but spring a leak; - That always ply the pump, and never think - They can be safe but at the rate they stink; - They live as if they had been run aground, - And, when they die, are cast away and drowned; - That dwell in ships, like swarms of rats, and prey - Upon the goods all nations’ fleets convey; - And when their merchants are blown up and crackt, - Whole towns are cast away in storms, and wreckt; - That feed, like cannibals, on other fishes, - And serve their cousin-germans up in dishes: - A land that rides at anchor, and is moored, - In which they do not live, but go aboard. - - - _POETS_ - - It is not poetry that makes men poor; - For few do write that were not so before; - And those that have writ best, had they been rich, - Had ne’er been clapp’d with a poetic itch; - Had loved their ease too well to take the pains - To undergo that drudgery of brains; - But, being for all other trades unfit, - Only t’ avoid being idle, set up wit. - - - _PUFFING_ - - They that do write in authors’ praises, - And freely give their friends their voices, - Are not confined to what is true; - That’s not to give, but pay a due: - For praise, that’s due, does give no more - To worth, than what it had before; - But to commend, without desert, - Requires a mastery of art, - That sets a gloss on what’s amiss, - And writes what should be, not what is. - -Samuel Pepys, whose literary work is in Diary form, is no doubt one of -the world’s greatest egoists. But the spontaneity and naturalness of -the account of his daily doings, as told by himself, have a charm all -their own and a unique and inimitable humor. - - - _EXTRACTS FROM THE DIARY_ - -Rose early, and put six spoons and a porringer of silver in my pocket -to give away to-day. To dinner at Sir William Batten’s; and then, after -a walk in the fine gardens, we went to Mrs. Browne’s, where Sir W. Pen -and I were godfathers, and Mrs. Jordan and Shipman godmothers to her -boy. And there, before and after the christening, we were with the -woman above in her chamber; but whether we carried ourselves well or -ill, I know not; but I was directed by young Mrs. Batten. One passage -of a lady that ate wafers with her dog did a little displease me. I did -give the midwife 10_s._ and the nurse 5_s._ and the maid of -the house 2_s._ But for as much I expected to give the name to the -child, but did not (it being called John), I forbore then to give my -plate. - -_December 26th, 1662._--Up, my wife to the making of Christmas -pies all day, doeing now pretty well again, and I abroad to several -places about some businesses, among others bought a bake-pan in Newgate -Market, and sent it home, it cost me 16_s._ So to Dr Williams, -but he is out of town, then to the Wardrobe. Hither come Mr Battersby; -and we falling into discourse of a new book of drollery in use, called -Hudibras, I would needs go find it out, and met with it at the Temple: -cost me 2_s._ 6_d._ But when I come to read it, it is so -silly an abuse of the Presbyter Knight going to the warrs, that I am -ashamed of it; and by and by meeting at Mr Townsend’s at dinner, I sold -it to him for 18_d._ ... - -_February 6th._-- ... Thence to Lincoln’s Inn Fields; and it being -too soon to go to dinner, I walked up and down, and looked upon the -outside of the new theatre now a-building in Covent Garden, which will -be very fine. And so to a bookseller’s in the Strand, and there bought -Hudibras again, it being certainly some ill-humour to be so against -that which all the world cries up to be the example of wit; for which -I am resolved once more to read him, and see whether I can find it or -no.... - -_November 28th._-- ... And thence abroad to Paul’s Churchyard, and -there looked upon the second part of Hudibras, which I buy not, but -borrow to read, to see if it be as good as the first, which the world -cry so mightily up, though it hath not a good liking in me, though I -had tried by twice or three times reading to bring myself to think it -witty. Back again and home to my office.... - -_May 11th, 1667._--And so away with my wife, whose being dressed -this day in fair hair did make me so mad, that I spoke not one word to -her, though I was ready to burst with anger.... After that ... Creed -and I into the Park, and walked, a most pleasant evening, and so took -coach, and took up my wife, and in my way home discovered my trouble -to my wife for her white locks [false hair], swearing by God several -times, which I pray God forgive me for, and bending my fist, that I -would not endure it. She, poor wretch, was surprized with it, and made -me no answer all the way home; but there we parted, and I to the office -late, and then home, and without supper to bed, vexed. - -_12th_ (Lord’s Day).--Up and to my chamber, to settle some -accounts there, and by and by down comes my wife to me in her -night-gown, and we begun calmly, that, upon having money to lace her -gown for second mourning, she would promise to wear white locks no more -in my sight, which I, like a severe fool, thinking not enough, began to -except against, and made her fly out to very high terms and cry, and -in her heat told me of keeping company with Mrs Knipp, saying, that -if I would promise never to see her more--of whom she hath more reason -to suspect than I had heretofore of Pembleton--she would never wear -white locks more. This vexed me, but I restrained myself from saying -anything, but do think never to see this woman--at least, to have her -here more; but by and by I did give her money to buy lace, and she -promised to wear no more white locks while I lived, and so all very -good friends as ever, and I to my business, and she to dress herself. - -_August 18th_ (Lord’s Day).--Up, and being ready, walked up and -down to Cree Church, to see it how it is: but I find no alteration -there, as they say there was, for my Lord Mayor and Aldermen to come -to sermon, as they do every Sunday, as they did formerly to Paul’s.... -There dined with me Mr Turner and his daughter Betty. Betty is grown -a fine young lady as to carriage and discourse. I and my wife are -mightily pleased with her. We had a good haunch of venison, powdered -and boiled, and a good dinner and merry.... I walked towards Whitehall, -but, being wearied, turned into St Dunstan’s Church, where I heard an -able sermon of the minister of the place; and stood by a pretty, modest -maid, whom I did labour to take by the hand ...; but she would not, -but got further and further from me; and, at last, I could perceive -her to take pins out of her pocket to prick me if I should touch her -again--which seeing, I did forbear, and was glad I did spy her design. -And then I fell to gaze upon another pretty maid, in a pew close to -me, and she on me; and I did go about to take her by the hand, which -she suffered a little, and then withdrew. So the sermon ended, and the -church broke up. - - * * * * * - -John Dryden, famous alike for his verse, prose and drama, shows his wit -in biting, stinging satire. - -Equally caustic are his epigrams, save one--the immortal lines on -Milton. - - - _ON SHADWELL_ - - All human things are subject to decay, - And, when Fate summons, monarchs must obey. - This Flecknoe found, who, like Augustus, young - Was called to empire, and had governed long. - In prose and verse was owned, without dispute, - Through all the realms of Nonsense absolute. - This aged prince, now flourishing in peace, - And blest with issue of a large increase, - Worn out with business, did at length debate - To settle the succession of the state; - And pondering which of all his sons was fit - To reign, and wage immortal war with Wit, - Cried: “’Tis resolved; for Nature pleads that he - Should only rule who most resembles me. - Shadwell alone my perfect image bears, - Mature in dulness from his tender years; - Shadwell alone of all my sons is he - Who stands confirmed in full stupidity. - The rest to some faint meaning make pretence, - But Shadwell never deviates into sense. - Some beams of wit on other souls may fall, - Strike through, and make a lucid interval, - But Shadwell’s genuine night admits no ray; - His rising fogs prevail upon the day. - Besides, his goodly fabric fills the eye, - And seems designed for thoughtless majesty-- - Thoughtless as monarch oaks that shade the plain, - And, spread in solemn state, supinely reign.” - - - _ON THE DUKE OF BUCKINGHAM_ - - Some of their chiefs were princes of the land: - In the first rank of these did Zimri stand, - A man so various, that he seemed to be - Not one, but all mankind’s epitome: - Stiff in opinions, always in the wrong, - Was everything by starts, and nothing long, - But, in the course of one revolving moon, - Was chemist, fiddler, statesman, and buffoon, - Then all for women, painting, rhyming, drinking, - Besides ten thousand freaks that died in thinking. - Blest madman, who could every hour employ - With something new to wish or to enjoy, - Railing, and praising, were his usual themes; - And both, to show his judgment, in extremes: - So over-violent, or over-civil, - That every man with him was god or devil. - In squandering wealth was his peculiar art; - Nothing went unrewarded but desert. - Beggared by fools, whom still he found too late, - He had his jest and they had his estate. - He laughed himself from court, then sought relief - By forming parties, but could ne’er be chief; - For spite of him, the weight of business fell - On Absalom and wise Achitophel. - Thus, wicked but in will, of means bereft, - He left not faction, but of that was left. - - - _MILTON COMPARED WITH HOMER AND VIRGIL_ - - Under a Picture of Milton in the 4th Edition of _Paradise Lost_. - - Three Poets, in three distant ages born, - Greece, Italy, and England did adorn. - The first, in loftiness of thought surpass’d - The next, in majesty; in both the last. - The force of nature could no further go; - To make a third, she join’d the former two. - -The original of these fine lines was probably a Latin distich written -by Selvaggi at Rome, which has been thus translated: - - Greece boasts her Homer, Rome her Virgil’s name, - But England’s Milton vies with both in fame. - -Cowper’s lines on Milton may be compared with Dryden’s: - - Ages elapsed ere Homer’s lamp appear’d, - And ages ere the Mantuan Swan was heard - To carry Nature lengths unknown before, - To give a Milton birth, ask’d ages more. - Thus Genius rose and set at order’d times, - And shot a day-spring into distant climes, - Ennobling every region that he chose; - He sunk in Greece, in Italy he rose; - And, tedious years of gothic darkness pass’d, - Emerged all splendour in our isle at last, - Thus lovely halcyons dive into the main, - Then show far off their shining plumes again. - -In Bishop Gibson’s edition of Camden’s _Britannia_, there is a -very free translation of some old monkish verses on S. Oswald by Basil -Kennet, brother of Bishop White Kennet. The last line, to which there -is nothing corresponding in the Latin, seems to have been copied from -the last line of Dryden’s epigram: - - _Cæsar_ and _Hercules_ applaud thy fame, - And _Alexander_ owns thy greater name, - Tho’ one himself, one foes, and one the world o’ercame: - Great conquests all! but bounteous Heav’n in thee, - To make a greater, join’d the former three. - -The comedies of William Congreve, brilliantly witty though they are, -offer no suitable passages to quote. - -Likewise the works of Daniel Defoe, who, beside the story of -_Robinson Crusoe_, wrote satirical humor. - - - _FROM ROBINSON CRUSOE_ - - _Friday’s Conflict with the Bear_ - -But never was a fight managed so hardily, and in such a surprising -manner, as that between Friday and the bear, which gave us all--though -at first we were surprised and afraid for him--the greatest diversion -imaginable. - -My man Friday had delivered our guide, and when we came up to him -he was helping him off from his horse, for the man was both hurt and -frightened, and indeed the last more than the first, when on a sudden -we espied the bear come out of the wood, and a vast, monstrous one it -was, the biggest by far that ever I saw. We were all a little surprised -when we saw him; but when Friday saw him, it was easy to see joy and -courage in the fellow’s countenance. “Oh, oh, oh!” says Friday three -times, pointing to him; “oh, master! you give me te leave, me shakee te -hand with him; me makee you good laugh.” - -I was surprised to see the fellow so pleased. “You fool!” said I, “he -will eat you up.” “Eatee me up! eatee me up!” says Friday twice over -again; “me eatee him up; me makee you good laugh; you all stay here, -me show you good laugh.” So down he sits, and gets his boots off in a -moment, and puts on a pair of pumps (as we call the flat shoes they -wear, and which he had in his pocket), gives my other servant his -horse, and with his gun away he flew, swift like the wind. - -The bear was walking softly on, and offered to meddle with nobody, -till Friday, coming pretty near, calls to him as if the bear could -understand him, “Hark ye, hark ye,” says Friday, “me speakee with you.” -We followed at a distance, for now, being come down to the Gascony -side of the mountains, we were entered a vast, great forest, where -the country was plain and pretty open, though it had many trees in it -scattered here and there. Friday, who had, as we say, the heels of the -bear, came up with him quickly, and took up a great stone and threw it -at him, and hit him just on the head, but did him no more harm than if -he had thrown it against a wall; but it answered Friday’s end, for the -rogue was so void of fear that he did it purely to make the bear follow -him and show us some laugh, as he called it. As soon as the bear felt -the stone, and saw him, he turns about and comes after him, taking very -long strides, and shuffling on at a strange rate, so as would have put -a horse to a middling gallop. Away runs Friday, and takes his course -as if he ran toward us for help; so we all resolved to fire at once -upon the bear, and deliver my man; though I was angry at him heartily -for bringing the bear back upon us, when he was going about his own -business another way; and especially I was angry that he had turned -the bear upon us and then run away; and I called out, “You dog!” said -I, “is this your making us laugh? Come away, and take your horse, that -we may shoot the creature.” He heard me, and cried out, “No shoot! no -shoot! stand still, you get much laugh.” And as the nimble creature -ran two feet for the beast’s one, he turned on a sudden on one side of -us, and seeing a great oak-tree fit for his purpose, he beckoned us to -follow; and doubling his pace, he got nimbly up the tree, laying his -gun down upon the ground, at about five or six yards from the bottom of -the tree. - -The bear soon came to the tree, and we followed at a distance. The -first thing he did, he stopped at the gun, smelled at it, but let it -lie, and up he scrambles into the tree, climbing like a cat, though so -monstrous heavy. I was amazed at the folly, as I thought it, of my man, -and could not for my life see anything to laugh at yet, till, seeing -the bear get up the tree, we all rode near to him. - -When we came to the tree, there was Friday got out to the small end of -a large limb of the tree, and the bear got about half-way to him. As -soon as the bear got out to that part where the limb of the tree was -weaker, “Ha!” says he to us, “now you see me teachee the bear dance”; -so he began jumping and shaking the bough, at which the bear began to -totter, but stood still, and began to look behind him, to see how he -should get back; then, indeed, we did laugh heartily. But Friday had -not done with him by a great deal. When seeing him stand still, he -called out to him again, as if he had supposed the bear could speak -English, “What, you no come farther? Pray you come farther.” So he -left jumping and shaking the bough; and the bear, just as if he had -understood what he had said, did come a little farther. Then he began -jumping again, and the bear stopped again. We thought now was a good -time to knock him on the head, and called to Friday to stand still, and -we would shoot the bear; but he cried out earnestly, “Oh, pray! oh, -pray! no shoot! me shoot by-and-then.” He would have said by-and-by. - -However, to shorten the story, Friday danced so much, and the bear -stood so ticklish, that we had laughing enough indeed, but still could -not imagine what the fellow would do; for first we thought he depended -upon shaking the bear off; and we found the bear was too cunning for -that too; for he would not go out far enough to be thrown down, but -clung fast with his great broad claws and feet, so that we could not -imagine what would be the end of it, and what the jest would be at -last. But Friday put us out of doubt quickly; for, seeing the bear -cling fast to the bough, and that he would not be persuaded to come any -farther, “Well, well,” says Friday, “you no come farther, me go; you no -come to me, me come to you.” And upon this he went out to the smaller -end of the bough, where it would bend with his weight, and gently let -himself down by it, sliding down the bough till he came near enough -to jump down on his feet, and away he ran to his gun, took it up, and -stood still. “Well,” said I to him, “Friday, what will you do now? Why -don’t you shoot him?” “No shoot,” says Friday, “no yet; me shoot now, -me no kill; me stay, give you one more laugh.” And, indeed, so he did, -as you will see presently. For when the bear saw his enemy gone, he -came back from the bough where he stood, but did it very cautiously, -looking behind him every step, and coming backward till he got into -the body of the tree. Then, with the same hinder end foremost, he came -down the tree, grasping it with his claws, and moving one foot at a -time, very leisurely. At this juncture, and just before he could set -his hind feet upon the ground, Friday stepped up close to him, clapped -the muzzle of his piece into his ear, and shot him dead as a stone. -Then the rogue turned about to see if we did not laugh; and when he saw -we were pleased by our looks, he began to laugh very loud. “So we kill -bear in my country,” says Friday. “So you kill them?” says I; “why, you -have no guns.” “No,” says he, “no gun, but shoot great much long arrow.” - - * * * * * - -Matthew Prior was called by Thackeray the most charmingly humorous of -the English poets, and Cowper speaks of Prior’s charming ease. - - - _AN EPITAPH_ - - Interred beneath this marble stone - Lie sauntering Jack and idle Joan. - While rolling threescore years and one - Did round this globe their courses run. - If human things went ill or well, - If changing empires rose or fell, - The morning past, the evening came, - And found this couple just the same. - They walked and ate, good folks. What then? - Why, then they walked and ate again; - They soundly slept the night away; - They did just nothing all the day, - Nor sister either had, nor brother; - They seemed just tallied for each other. - Their moral and economy - Most perfectly they made agree; - Each virtue kept its proper bound, - Nor trespassed on the other’s ground. - Nor fame nor censure they regarded; - They neither punished nor rewarded. - He cared not what the footman did; - Her maids she neither praised nor chid; - So every servant took his course, - And, bad at first, they all grew worse; - Slothful disorder filled his stable. - And sluttish plenty decked her table. - Their beer was strong, their wine was port; - Their meal was large, their grace was short. - They gave the poor the remnant meat, - Just when it grew not fit to eat. - They paid the church and parish rate, - And took, but read not, the receipt: - For which they claimed their Sunday’s due - Of slumbering in an upper pew. - No man’s defects sought they to know, - So never made themselves a foe. - No man’s good deeds did they commend, - So never raised themselves a friend. - Nor cherished they relations poor, - That might decrease their present store; - Nor barn nor house did they repair, - That might oblige their future heir. - They neither added nor confounded; - They neither wanted nor abounded. - Nor tear nor smile did they employ - At news of grief or public joy - When bells were rung and bonfires made, - If asked, they ne’er denied their aid; - Their jug was to the ringers carried, - Whoever either died or married - Their billet at the fire was found, - Whoever was deposed or crowned. - Nor good, nor bad, nor fools, nor wise; - They would not learn, nor could advise; - Without love, hatred, joy, or fear, - They led--a kind of--as it were; - Nor wished, nor cared, nor laughed, nor cried. - And so they lived, and so they died. - - - _A SIMILE_ - - Dear Thomas, didst thou never pop - Thy head into a tin-man’s shop? - There, Thomas, didst thou never see - (’Tis but by way of simile) - A squirrel spend his little rage, - In jumping round a rolling cage? - The cage, as either side turned up, - Striking a ring of bells a-top?-- - Mov’d in the orb, pleas’d with the chimes, - The foolish creature thinks he climbs: - But here or there, turn wood or wire, - He never gets two inches higher. - So fares it with those merry blades, - That frisk it under Pindus’ shades. - In noble songs, and lofty odes, - They tread on stars, and talk with gods; - Still dancing in an airy round, - Still pleased with their own verses’ sound; - Brought back, how fast soe’er they go, - Always aspiring, always low. - - - _PHILLIS’ AGE_ - - How old may Phillis be, you ask, - Whose beauty thus all hearts engages? - To answer is no easy task: - For she has really two ages. - - Stiff in brocade, and pinch’d in stays, - Her patches, paint and jewels on; - All day let envy view her face, - And Phillis is but twenty-one. - - Paint, patches, jewels laid aside, - At night astronomers agree, - The evening has the day belied; - And Phillis is some forty-three. - -Prior delighted in epigrams on ladies who wore false hair and teeth, -and who attempted to retain the beauty of youth by means of paint and -dye. They are generally imitated from Martial. - - - _A REASONABLE AFFLICTION_ - - In a dark corner of the house - Poor Helen sits, and sobs, and cries; - She will not see her loving spouse, - Nor her more dear picquet allies: - Unless she find her eye-brows, - She’ll e’en weep out her eyes. - - - - - FRENCH HUMOR - -The first French humorist of note in the seventeenth century was Cyrano -de Bergerac. His History of the Moon and History of the Sun are of the -nature of _Gulliver’s Travels_. - - - _THE SOUL OF THE CABBAGE_ - -We laid ourselves along upon very soft quilts, covered with large -carpets; and a young man that waited on us, taking the oldest of our -philosophers led him into a little parlor apart, where my Spirit called -to him to come back to us as soon as he had supped. - -This humor of eating separately gave me the curiosity of asking the -cause of it. “He’ll not relish,” said he, “the steam of meat, nor yet -of herbs, unless they die of themselves, because he thinks they are -sensible of pain.” “I wonder not so much,” replied I, “that he abstains -from flesh, and all things that have had a sensitive life. For in our -world the Pythagoreans, and even some holy Anchorites, have followed -that rule; but not to dare, for instance, cut a cabbage, for fear of -hurting it--that seems to me altogether ridiculous.” “And for my part,” -answered my Spirit, “I find a great deal of reason in his opinion. - -“For, tell me is not that cabbage you speak of a being existent in -Nature as well as you? Is not she the common mother of you both? Yet -the opinion that Nature is kinder to mankind than to cabbage-kind, -tickles and makes us laugh. But, seeing she is incapable of passion, -she can neither love nor hate anything; and were she susceptible of -love, she would rather bestow her affection upon this cabbage, which -you grant cannot offend her, than upon that man who would destroy her -if it lay in his power. - -“And, moreover, man cannot be born innocent, being a part of the -first offender. But we know very well that the first cabbage did not -offend its Creator. If it be said that we are made after the image -of the Supreme Being, and the cabbage is not--grant that to be true; -yet by polluting our soul, wherein we resembled Him, we have effaced -that likeness, seeing nothing is more contrary to God than sin. If, -then, our soul be no longer His image, we resemble Him no more in our -feet, hands, mouth, forehead, and ears, than a cabbage in its leaves, -flowers, stalk, pith, and head--do not you really think that if this -poor plant could speak when one cuts it, it would not say, ‘Dear -brother man, what have I done to thee that deserves death? I never -grow but in gardens, and am never to be found in desert places, where -I might live in security; I disdain all other company but thine, and -scarcely am I sowed in thy garden when, to show thee my good-will, I -blossom, stretch out my arms to thee, offer thee my children in grain; -and, as a requital for my civility, thou causest my head to be chopped -off.’ Thus would a cabbage discourse if it could speak. - -“To massacre a man is not so great sin as to cut and kill a cabbage, -because one day the man will rise again, but the cabbage has no other -life to hope for. By putting to death a cabbage, you annihilate it; -but in killing a man, you make him only change his habitation. Nay, -I’ll go farther with you still: since God doth equally cherish all His -works, and hath equally, divided the benefits betwixt us and plants, it -is but just we should have an equal esteem for them as for ourselves. -It is true we were born first, but in the family of God there is no -birthright. If, then, the cabbage share not with us in the inheritance -of immortality, without doubt that want was made up by some other -advantage, that may make amends for the shortness of its being--maybe -by an universal intellect, or a perfect knowledge of all things in -their causes. And it is for that reason that the wise Mover of all -things hath not shaped for it organs like ours, which are proper only -for simple reasoning, not only weak, but often fallacious too; but -others, more ingeniously framed, stronger, and more numerous, which -serve to conduct its speculative exercises. You’ll ask me, perhaps, -whenever any cabbage imparted those lofty conceptions to us? But tell -me, again, who ever discovered to us certain beings, which we allow -to be above us, to whom we bear no analogy nor proportion, and whose -existence it is as hard for us to comprehend as the understanding and -ways whereby a cabbage expresses itself to its like, though not to us, -because our senses are too dull to penetrate so far? - -“Moses, the greatest of philosophers, who drew the knowledge of nature -from the fountain-head, Nature herself, hinted this truth to us when -he spoke of the Tree of Knowledge; and without doubt he intended to -intimate to us under that figure that plants, in exclusion of mankind, -possess perfect philosophy. Remember, then, oh, thou proudest of -animals, that though a cabbage which thou cuttest sayeth not a word, -yet it pays in thinking. But the poor vegetable has no fit organs to -howl as you do, nor yet to frisk about and weep. Yet it hath those -that are proper to complain of the wrong you do it, and to draw a -judgment from Heaven upon you for the injustice. But if you still -demand of me how I come to know that cabbages and coleworts conceive -such pretty thoughts, then will I ask you, how come you to know that -they do not; and how that some among them, when they shut up at -night, may not compliment one another as you do, saying, ‘Good-night, -Master _Cole-Curled-Pate_! Your most humble servant, good Master -_Cabbage-Round-Head_!’” - - * * * * * - -Marc-Antoine Gerard, sieur de Saint Amant, was one of the brightest and -best of the French early poets. - -We give a specimen of his lighter verse. The following is “An Address -to Bacchus:” - - In idle rhymes we waste our days, - With yawning fits for all our praise, - While Bacchus, god of mirth and wine, - Invites us to a life divine. - Apollo, prince of bards and prigs, - May scrape his fiddle to the pigs; - And for the Muses, old maids all, - Why let them twang their lyres, and squall - Their hymns and odes on classic themes, - Neglected by their sacred streams. - As for the true poetic fire, - What is it but a mad desire? - While Pegasus himself, at best, - Only a horse must be confess’d; - And he must be an ass indeed, - Who would bestride the winged steed. - - Bacchus, thou who watchest o’er - All feasts of ours, whom I adore - With each new draught of rosy wine - That makes my red face like to thine-- - By thy ivied coronet, - By this glass with rubies set, - By thy thyrsus--fear of earth-- - By thine everlasting mirth, - By the honor of the feast, - By thy triumphs, greatest, least, - By thy blows, not struck, but drunk, - With king and bishop, priest and monk, - By the jesting, keen and sharp, - By the violin and harp, - By the bells, which are but flasks, - By our sighs which are but masks - Of mirth and sacred mystery, - By thy panthers fierce to see, - By this place so fair and sweet, - By the he-goat at thy feet, - By Ariadne, buxom lass, - By Silenus on his ass, - By this sausage, by this stoup, - By this rich and thirsty soup, - By this pipe from which I wave - All the incense thou dost crave, - By this ham, well spiced, long hung, - By this salt and wood-smoked tongue, - Receive us in the happy band - Of those who worship glass in hand. - And, to prove thyself divine, - Leave us never without wine. - -Molière (the stage name of Jean Baptiste Poquelin), the greatest comic -dramatist of France, wrote thirty or more plays. Though difficult to -quote significant passages, two are here given: - - - _FROM “THE LEARNED WOMEN”_ - -_Trissotin._ Your verses have beauties unequaled by any others. - -_Vadius._ Venus and the graces reign in all yours. - -_Trissotin._ You have an easy style, and a fine choice of words. - -_Vadius._ In all your writings one finds _ithos_ and _pathos_. - -_Trissotin._ We have seen some eclogues of your composition which -surpass in sweetness those of Theocritus and Vergil. - -_Vadius._ Your odes have a noble, gallant, and tender manner, -which leaves Horace far behind. - -_Trissotin._ Is there anything more lovely than your canzonets? - -_Vadius._ Is there anything equal to the sonnets you write? - -_Trissotin._ Is there anything more charming than your little -rondeaus? - -_Vadius._ Anything so full of wit as your madrigals? - -_Trissotin._ If France could appreciate your value---- - -_Vadius._ If the age could render justice to a lofty genius---- - -_Trissotin._ You would ride in the streets in a gilt coach. - -_Vadius._ We should see the public erect statues to you. Hem--It -is a ballad; and I wish you frankly to---- - -_Trissotin._ Have you heard a certain little sonnet upon the -Princess Urania’s fever? - -_Vadius._ Yes; I heard it read yesterday. - -_Trissotin._ Do you know the author of it? - -_Vadius._ No, I do not; but I know very well that, to tell him the -truth, his sonnet is good for nothing. - -_Trissotin._ Yet a great many people think it admirable. - -_Vadius._ It does not prevent it from being wretched; and if you -had read it you would think like me. - -_Trissotin._ I know that I should differ from you altogether, and -that few people are able to write such a sonnet. - -_Vadius._ Heaven forbid that I should ever write one so bad! - -_Trissotin._ I maintain that a better one cannot be made, and my -reason is that I am the author of it. - -_Vadius._ You? - -_Trissotin._ Myself. - -_Vadius._ I cannot understand how the thing could have happened. - -_Trissotin._ It is unfortunate that I had not the power of -pleasing you. - -_Vadius._ My mind must have wandered during the reading, or else -the reader spoiled the sonnet; but let us leave that subject, and come -to my ballad. - -_Trissotin._ The ballad is, to my mind, an insipid thing; it is no -longer the fashion, and savors of ancient times. - -_Vadius._ Yet a ballad has charms for many people. - -_Trissotin._ It does not prevent me from thinking it unpleasant. - -_Vadius._ That does not make it worse. - -_Trissotin._ It has wonderful attractions for pedants. - -_Vadius._ Yet we see that it does not please you. - -_Trissotin._ You stupidly impose your qualities on others. - -_Vadius._ You very impertinently cast yours upon me. - -_Trissotin._ Go, you little dunce, you pitiful quill-driver! - -_Vadius._ Go, you penny-a-liner, you disgrace to the profession! - -_Trissotin._ Go, you book-manufacturer, you impudent plagiarist! - -_Vadius._ Go, you pedantic snob! - -_Philosopher._ Ah! gentlemen, what are you about? - -_Trissotin_ (_to_ VADIUS). Go, go, and make restitution to the Greeks -and Romans for all your shameful thefts! - -_Vadius._ Go, and do penance on Parnassus for having murdered -Horace in your verses! - -_Trissotin._ Remember your book, and the little stir it made. - -_Vadius._ And you, remember your bookseller, reduced to the workhouse. - -_Trissotin._ My fame is established; in vain would you endeavor to -shake it. - -_Vadius._ Yes, yes; I’ll send you to the author of the _Satires_. - -_Trissotin._ I, too, will send you to him. - -_Vadius._ I have the satisfaction of having been honorably treated -by him; he gives me a passing thrust, and includes me among several -authors well known at court. But you he never leaves in peace; in all -his verses he attacks you. - -_Trissotin._ By that we see the honorable rank I hold. He leaves -you in the crowd, and esteems one blow enough to crush you. He has -never done you the honor of repeating his attacks, whereas he assails -me separately, as a noble adversary against whom all his efforts are -necessary. His blows, repeated against me on all occasions, show that -he never thinks himself victorious. - -_Vadius._ My pen will teach you what soft of man I am! - -_Trissotin._ And mine will make you know your master! - -_Vadius._ I defy you in verse, prose, Greek, and Latin! - -_Trissotin._ Very well, we shall meet again at the bookseller’s! - - - _FROM “THE GENTLEMAN CIT”_ - -_Professor of Philosophy._ I will thoroughly explain all these -curiosities to you. - -_M. Jourdain._ Pray do. And now I want to entrust you with a great -secret. I am in love with a lady of quality, and I should be glad if -you would help me to write something to her in a short letter which I -mean to drop at her feet. - -_Professor of Philosophy._ Very well. - -_M. Jourdain._ That will be gallant, will it not? - -_Professor of Philosophy._ Undoubtedly. Is it verse you wish to -write to her? - -_M. Jourdain._ Oh, no, not verse. - -_Professor of Philosophy._ You only wish for prose? - -_M. Jourdain._ No, I wish neither verse nor prose. - -_Professor of Philosophy._ It must be one or the other. - -_M. Jourdain._ Why? - -_Professor of Philosophy._ Because, sir, there is nothing by which -we can express ourselves except prose or verse. - -_M. Jourdain._ There is nothing but prose or verse? - -_Professor of Philosophy._ No, sir. Whatever is not prose is -verse, and whatever is not verse is prose. - -_M. Jourdain._ And when we speak, what is that, then? - -_Professor of Philosophy._ Prose. - -_M. Jourdain._ What! when I say, “Nicole, bring me my slippers, -and give me my night-cap,” is that prose? - -_Professor of Philosophy._ Yes, sir. - -_M. Jourdain._ Upon my word, I have been talking prose these forty -years without being aware of it! I am under the greatest obligation to -you for informing me. Well, then, I wish to write to her in a letter, -_Fair marchioness, your beautiful eyes make me die of love!_ but I -would have this worded in a genteel manner, and turned prettily. - -_Professor of Philosophy._ Say that the fire of her eyes has -reduced your heart to ashes; that you suffer day and night for her -tortures---- - -_M. Jourdain._ No, no, no; I don’t want any of that. I simply wish -to say what I tell you: _Fair marchioness, your beautiful eyes make -me die of love_. - -_Professor of Philosophy._ Still, you might amplify the thing a -little? - -_M. Jourdain._ No, I tell you, I will have nothing but those very -words in the letter; but they must be put in a fashionable way, and -arranged as they should be. Pray explain a little, so that I may see -the different ways in which they can be put. - -_Professor of Philosophy._ They may be put, first of all, as -you have said, _Fair marchioness, your beautiful eyes make me die -of love_; or else, _Of love die make me, fair marchioness, your -beautiful eyes_; or, _Your beautiful eyes of love make me, fair -marchioness, die_; or, _Die of love your beautiful eyes, fair -marchioness, make me_; or else, _Me make your beautiful eyes die, -fair marchioness, of love_. - -_M. Jourdain._ But of all these ways, which is the best? - -_Professor of Philosophy._ The one you said--_Fair marchioness, -your beautiful eyes make me die of love_. - -_M. Jourdain._ Yet I have never studied, and I did all that right -off at the first shot. I thank you with all my heart, and I beg you to -come early again to-morrow morning. - -_Professor of Philosophy._--I shall not fail you. - - * * * * * - -Paul Scarron, described as a “pure bird of pleasure,” wrote plays, -novels, epigrams, letters, and best known of all, a classic burlesque -called _Virgile Travesti_. - -Quotations cannot be made from his longer works, but two poems are -given. - - - _FAREWELL TO CHLORIS_ - - Adieu, fair Chloris, adieu: - ’Tis time that I speak, - After many and many a week, - (’Tis not thus that at Paris we woo) - You pay me for all with a smile - And cheat me the while, - Speak now. Let me go. - Close your doors, or open them wide, - Matters not, so that I am outside; - Devil take me, if ever I show - Love or pity for you and your pride. - - To laugh in my face, - It is all that she grants me - Of pity and grace: - Can it mean that she wants me? - This for five or six months is my pay. - Now hear my command, - Shut your doors, keep them tight night and day, - With a porter at hand - To keep every one in; - Well, I know my own mind. - The devil himself, if once you begin - To go out, couldn’t keep me behind. - -The following is better known. It is his description of Paris: - - Houses in labyrinthine maze: - The streets with mud bespattered all; - Palace and prison, churches, quays, - Here stately shop, there shabby stall. - Passengers black, red, gray, and white, - The pursed-up prude, the light coquette; - Murder and treason dark as night; - With clerks, their hands with inkstains wet; - A gold-laced coat without a sou, - And trembling at a bailiff’s sight; - A braggart shivering with fear; - Pages and lackeys, thieves of night; - And ’mid the tumult, noise, and stink of it, - There’s Paris--Pray, what do you think of it? - -François de la Rochefoucauld, famous French moralist, is best known -through the wit and wisdom of his Maxims. - - * * * * * - -A woman is faithful to her first lover a long time--unless she happens -to take a second. - - * * * * * - -He who is pleased with nobody is much more unhappy than he with whom -nobody is pleased. - - * * * * * - -We all have sufficient fortitude to bear the misfortunes of our friends. - - * * * * * - -Had we no faults of our own, we should notice them with less pleasure -in others. - - * * * * * - -We promise according to our hopes, and perform according to our fears. - - * * * * * - -Old men are fond of giving good advice to console themselves for their -impotence to give bad examples. - - * * * * * - -We often do good in order that we may do evil with impunity. - -If we resist our passions it is more from their weakness than from our -strength. - - * * * * * - -We should have very little pleasure if we did not sometimes flatter -ourselves. - - * * * * * - -It is easier to be wise for others than for ourselves. - - * * * * * - -Men would not live long in society if they were not dupes to each other. - - * * * * * - -Virtue would not travel so far if vanity did not keep her company. - - * * * * * - -Hypocrisy is the homage which vice renders to virtue. - - * * * * * - -In the adversity of our best friends we often find something which does -not displease us. - - * * * * * - -Gravity is a mystery of the face, invented to conceal the defects of -the mind. - - * * * * * - -Affected simplicity is refined imposture. - - * * * * * - -We often pardon those who weary us, but never those whom we weary. - - * * * * * - -Blaise Pascal, celebrated geometrician and writer, left a series of -delightful satires upon the Jesuits. - - - _FROM LES PROVINCIALES_ - - _ON MENTAL RESERVATIONS_ - -“I proceed to the facilities we have invented for the avoidance of -sin in the conversation and intrigues of the world. One of the most -embarrassing things to provide against is _lying_, when it is -the object to excite confidence in any false representation. In this -case, our doctrine of _equivocals_ is of admirable service, by -which, says Sanchez, ‘it is lawful to use ambiguous terms to give the -impression a different sense from that which you understand yourself.’” -“This I am well aware of, father.” “We have,” continued he, “published -it so frequently, that in fact every body is acquainted with it; but -pray, do you know what is to be done when no equivocal terms can be -found?” “No, father.” “Ha, I thought this would be new to you: it is -the doctrine of _mental reservations_. Sanchez states it in the -same place: ‘A person may take an oath that he has not done such a -thing, though in fact he has, by saying to himself, it was not done -on a certain specified day or before he was born, or by concealing -any other similar circumstance which gives another meaning to the -statement. This is in numberless instances extremely convenient, and -is always justifiable when it is necessary to your welfare, honor, or -property.’” - -“But, father, is not this adding perjury to lying?” “No; Sanchez and -Filiutius show the contrary: ‘It is the _intention_ which stamps -the quality of the action’; and the latter furnishes another and surer -method of avoiding lying. After saying in an audible voice, _I swear -that I did not do this_, you may add inwardly, _to-day_; or -after affirming aloud, _I swear_ you may repeat in a whisper, _I -say_; and then resuming the former tone--_I did not do it_. -Now this you must admit is telling the truth.” “I own it is,” said I; -“but it is telling truth in a whisper, and a lie in an audible voice; -besides, I apprehend that very few people have sufficient presence of -mind to avail themselves of this deception.” “Our fathers,” answered -the Jesuit, “have in the same place given directions for those who do -not know how to manage these niceties, so that they may be indemnified -against the sin of lying, while plainly declaring they have not done -what in reality they have, provided ‘that, in general, they intended to -give the same sense to their assertion which a skilful man would have -contrived to do.’” - -“Now confess,” he asked, “have not you sometimes been embarrassed -through an ignorance of this doctrine?” “Certainly.” “And will you -not admit, too, that it would often be very convenient to violate -your word with a good conscience?” “Surely, one of the most convenient -things in the world!” “Then, sir, listen to Escobar; he gives this -general rule: ‘Promises are not obligatory when a man has no intention -of being bound to fulfil them; and it seldom happens that he has such -an intention, unless he confirms it by an oath or bond, so that when -he merely says _I will do it_, it is to be understood _if he do -not change his mind_; for he did not intend by what he promised to -deprive himself of his liberty.’ He furnishes some other rules which -you may read for yourself, and concludes thus: ‘Everything is taken -from Molina and our other authors--_omnia ex Molina et aliis’_; it -is, consequently, indisputable.” - -“Father,” exclaimed I, “I never knew before that the direction of the -intention could nullify the obligation of a promise.” “Now, then,” -said he, “you perceive this very much facilitates the intercourse of -mankind.” - -Jean de la Fontaine, the universally known French Fabulist, was a -prolific writer, but his wit shows at its best in his _Fables_. - - - _THE COUNCIL HELD BY THE RATS_ - - Old Rodilard, a certain cat, - Such havoc of the rats had made, - ’Twas difficult to find a rat - With nature’s debt unpaid. - The few that did remain, - To leave their holes afraid. - From usual food abstain, - Not eating half their fill. - And wonder no one will, - That one, who made on rats his revel, - With rats passed not for cat, but devil. - Now, on a day, this dread rat-eater, - Who had a wife, went out to meet her; - And while he held his caterwauling, - The unkilled rats, their chapter calling, - Discussed the point, in grave debate, - How they might shun impending fate. - Their dean, a prudent rat, - Thought best, and better soon than late, - To bell the fatal cat; - That, when he took his hunting-round, - The rats, well cautioned by the sound, - Might hide in safety under ground; - Indeed, he knew no other means. - And all the rest - At once confessed - Their minds were with the dean’s. - No better plan, they all believed, - Could possibly have been conceived; - No doubt, the thing would work right well, - If any one would hang the bell. - But, one by one, said every rat, - “I’m not so big a fool as that.” - The plan knocked up in this respect, - The council closed without effect. - And many a council I have seen, - Or reverend chapter with its dean, - That, thus resolving wisely, - Fell through like this precisely. - - To argue or refute, - Wise counsellors abound; - The man to execute - Is harder to be found. - - - _THE COCK AND THE FOX_ - - Upon a tree there mounted guard - A veteran cock, adroit and cunning; - When to the roots a fox up running - Spoke thus, in tones of kind regard: - “Our quarrel, brother, is at an end; - Henceforth I hope to live your friend; - For peace now reigns - Throughout the animal domains. - I bear the news. Come down, I pray, - And give me the embrace fraternal: - And please, my brother, don’t delay: - So much the tidings do concern all, - That I must spread them far to-day. - Now you and yours can take your walks - Without a fear or thought of hawks; - And should you clash with them or others, - In us you’ll find the best of brothers-- - For which you may, this joyful night, - Your merry bonfires light. - But, first, let’s seal the bliss - With one fraternal kiss.” - “Good friend,” the cock replied, “upon my word, - A better thing I never heard; - And doubly I rejoice - To hear it from your voice: - And, really, there must be something in it, - For yonder come two greyhounds, which I flatter - Myself, are couriers on this very matter; - They come so fast, they’ll be here in a minute, - I’ll down, and all of us will seal the blessing - With general kissing and caressing.” - “Adieu,” said the fox; “my errand’s pressing, - I’ll hurry on my way, - And we’ll rejoice some other day.” - So off the fellow scampered, quick and light, - To gain the fox-holes of the neighboring height-- - Less happy in his stratagem than flight. - The cock laughed sweetly in his sleeve-- - ’Tis doubly sweet deceiver to deceive. - - - _THE CROW AND THE FOX_ - - A master crow, perched on a tree one day - Was holding in his beak a cheese-- - A master fox, by the odor drawn that way, - Spake unto him in words like these: - “O, good morning, my Lord Crow! - How well you look, how handsome you do grow! - ’Pon my honor, if your note - Bears a resemblance to your coat, - You are the phœnix of the dwellers in these woods.” - At these words does the crow exceedingly rejoice; - And, to display his beauteous voice, - He opens a wide beak, lets fall his stolen goods. - The fox seized on’t, and said, “My good Monsieur, - Learn that every flatterer - Lives at the expense of him who hears him out. - This lesson is well worth a cheese, no doubt.” - The crow, ashamed, and much in pain, - Swore, but a little late, they’d not catch him so again. - -Nicolas Boileau-Despreaux, commonly called Boileau, was a famous critic -and poet. His _Art Poétique_ had a decided influence on later -French verse. - -His wit was keen and his satire sharp. - - - _TO PERRAULT_ - - How comes it, Perrault, I would gladly know, - That authors of two thousand years ago, - Whom in their native dress all times revere, - In your translations should so flat appear? - ’Tis you divest them of their own sublime, - By your vile crudities and odious rime. - They’re thine when suffering thy wretched phrase, - And then no wonder if they meet no praise. - - - _ON COTIN_ - - Of all the pens which my poor rimes molest, - Cotin’s is sharpest, and succeeds the best. - Others outrageous scold and rail downright, - With hearty rancor, and true Christian spite. - But he, a readier method does design, - Writes scoundrel verses, and then says they’re mine. - -Alan René Le Sage, novelist and dramatist, is best known for his -celebrated work, _Gil Blas_. He also wrote many farce-operettas, -which offer no opportunity for quotation. - -Jean de la Bruyère, is best known for his work called _The -Characters_, an imitation of Theophrastus. - - - _IPHIS_ - -Iphis at church sees a new-fashioned shoe; he looks upon his own and -blushes, and can no longer believe himself dressed. He came to prayers -only to show himself, and now he hides himself. The foot keeps him in -his room the rest of the day. He has a soft hand, with which he gives -you a gentle pat. He is sure to laugh often to show his white teeth. -He strains his mouth to a perpetual smile. He looks upon his legs, he -views himself in the glass, and nobody can have so good an opinion of -another as he has of himself. He has acquired a delicate and clear -voice, and has a happy manner in talking. He has a turn of the head, a -sweetness in his glance that he never fails to make use of. His gait is -slow, and the prettiest he is able to contrive. He sometimes employs a -little rouge, but seldom; he will not make a habit of it. It is true -that he wears breeches and a hat, has neither earrings nor necklace, -therefore I have not put him in the chapter on woman. - - - _THOUGHTS_ - -The pleasure of criticizing robs us of the pleasure of unconscious -delight. - - * * * * * - -The most accomplished work of the age would fail under the hands -of censors and critics, if the author would listen to all their -objections, and allow each one to throw out the passage that had -pleased him least. - - * * * * * - -This good we get from the perfidiousness of woman, that it cures us of -jealousy. - - * * * * * - -There are but two ways of rising in the world--by your own industry, or -by the weakness of others. - -If life is miserable, it is painful to live; if happy, it is terrible -to die; both come to the same thing. - - * * * * * - -There is nothing men are so anxious to preserve, or so careless about, -as life. - - * * * * * - -We are afraid of old age, and afraid not to attain it. - - * * * * * - -If some men died, and others did not, death would indeed be a terrible -affliction. - - * * * * * - -There are but three events that happen to men--birth, life, and death. -They know nothing of their birth, suffer when they die, and forget to -live. - - * * * * * - -Gilles Ménage, a French philologist, is now best known as the Author -of _Ménagiana_, one of the most excellent and original of the -celebrated Ana of France. The following poem bears a remarkable -resemblance to Goldsmith’s _Madame Blaize_, and it is quite -possible that the latter may have been suggested by it. - - La Gallisse now I wish to touch; - Droll air! if I can strike it, - I’m sure the song will please you much; - That is, if you should like it. - - La Gallisse was indeed, I grant, - Not used to any dainty - When he was born--but could not want, - As long as he had plenty. - - Instructed with the greatest care, - He always was well bred, - And never used a hat to wear, - But when ’twas on his head. - - His temper was exceeding good, - Just of his father’s fashion; - And never quarrels broil’d his blood, - Except when in a passion. - - His mind was on devotion bent; - He kept with care each high day, - And Holy Thursday always spent, - The day before Good Friday. - - He liked good claret very well, - I just presume to think it; - For ere its flavour he could tell, - He thought it best to drink it. - - Than doctors more he loved the cook, - Though food would make him gross; - And never any physic took, - But when he took a dose. - - O happy, happy is the swain - The ladies so adore; - For many followed in his train, - Whene’er he walk’d before. - - Bright as the sun his flowing hair - In golden ringlets shone; - And no one could with him compare, - If he had been alone. - - His talents I can not rehearse, - But every one allows, - That whatsoe’er he wrote in verse, - No one could call it prose. - - He argued with precision nice, - The learnèd all declare; - And it was his decision wise, - No horse could be a mare. - - His powerful logic would surprise, - Amuse, and much delight: - He proved that dimness of the eyes - Was hurtful to the sight. - - They liked him much--so it appears - Most plainly--who preferr’d him; - And those did never want their ears, - Who any time had heard him. - - He was not always right, ’tis true, - And then he must be wrong; - But none had found it out, he knew, - If he had held his tongue. - - Whene’er a tender tear he shed, - ’Twas certain that he wept; - And he would lay awake in bed, - Unless, indeed, he slept. - - In tilting everybody knew - His very high renown; - Yet no opponents he o’erthrew, - But those that he knock’d down. - - At last they smote him in the head-- - What hero e’er fought all? - And when they saw that he was dead, - They knew the wound was mortal. - - And when at last he lost his breath, - It closed his every strife; - For that sad day that seal’d his death, - Deprived him of his life. - -Italy and Spain offer us little of seventeenth century humor. Their -comedies are long and verbose, and rather dull. Also, there are few -satisfactory translations. - -The Italian, Francesca Redi, gives us a rollicking song of a -Bacchanalian order. - - - _DIATRIBE AGAINST WATER_ - - He who drinks water, - I wish to observe, - Gets nothing from me; - He may eat it and starve. - Whether it’s well, or whether it’s fountain, - Or whether it comes foaming white from the mountain, - I cannot admire it, - Nor ever desire it. - ’Tis a fool, and a madman, an impudent wretch, - Who now will live in a nasty ditch, - And then grows proud, and full of his whims, - Comes playing the devil, and cursing his brims, - And swells, and tumbles, and bothers his margins, - And ruins the flowers, although they be virgins. - Wharves and piers, were it not for him, - Would last forever, - If they’re built clever; - But no, it’s all one with him--sink or swim. - - Let the people yclept Mameluke - Praise the Nile without any rebuke; - Let the Spaniards praise the Tagus; - I cannot like either, even for negus. - If any follower of mine - Dares so far to forget his wine - As to drink a drop of water, - Here’s the hand to devote him to slaughter. - Let your meager doctorlings - Gather herbs and such like things, - Fellows who with streams and stills - Think to cure all sorts of ills; - I’ve no faith in their washery, - Nor think it worth a glance of my eye. - Yes, I laugh at them, for that matter, - To think how they, with their heaps of water, - Petrify their skulls profound, - And make ’em all so thick and so round, - That Viviana, with all his mathematics, - Would fail to square the circle of their attics. - - Away with all water wherever I come; - I forbid it ye, gentlemen, all and some. - Lemonade water, - Jessamine water, - Our tavern knows none of ’em-- - Water’s a hum! - Jessamine makes a pretty crown, - But as a drink ’twill never go down. - All your hydromels and flips - Come not near these prudent lips. - All your sippings and sherbets, - And a thousand such pretty sweets, - Let your mincing ladies take ’em, - And fops whose little fingers ache ’em. - Wine, wine is your only drink! - Grief never dares to look at the brink. - Six times a year to be mad with wine, - I hold it no shame, but a very good sign. - I, for my part, take my can, - Solely to act like a gentleman, - And, acting so, I care not, I, - For all the hail and snow in the sky. - I never go poking, - And cowering and cloaking, - And wrapping myself from head to foot, - As some people do, with their wigs to boot-- - For example, like dry and shivering Redi, - Who looks just like a peruk’d old lady. - -From the Spanish poet, José Morell we include two quotations. - - - _ADVICE TO AN INNKEEPER_ - - “‘Mingle the sweet and useful,’ says a sage, - Whose name, perchance, is lost in history’s page, - But whose advice withal is good and wise. - It caught a tavern-keeper’s busy eyes, - And he exclaimed, ‘Delightful! That’s for me!’ - I see the sense, I read the mystery; - This is its meaning, I can well divine: - ‘Mix useful water with your luscious wine.’” - - - _TO A POET_ - - “You say your verses are of gold. - And how, my friend? I’d fain inquire. - But, no--I see the truth you’ve told: - They must be purified by fire.” - - - - - GERMAN HUMOR - -Germany in the seventeenth century wakes up to a dim and dawning -humorous sense, but gives little definite expression to it, unless we -except Abraham á Sancta Clara, an Augustinian monk and satirical writer -of repute. - - - _THE DONKEY’S VOICE_ - -A certain singer was most vain of his voice, thinking it so enchanting -it might allure the very dolphins, or if not them, the pike, from out -of the deep. But it is an old custom of the Lord to punish the vain -ones of the earth, who like nothing better than praise. So the Lord -made this man sing false at Holy Mass, and the whole congregation was -utterly displeased. Close by the altar there was kneeling an old woman, -who wept bitterly during the Mass. The conceited songster, thinking -that the old woman had been moved to those tears by the sweetness of -his voice, after Mass approached the dame, asking her, in the presence -of the congregation, why she had wept so sadly. His mouth watered -for the expected praise, when, “Sir,” said the woman, “while you were -singing I remembered my donkey; I lost him, poor soul three days ago, -and his voice was very natural, like yours. Oh, heavenly Father, if I -could only find that good and useful beast!” - - --_Judas, the Arch-Rogue._ - - - _A BURDENSOME WIFE_ - -A man set sail from Venice for Ancona, with his wife, both being minded -to offer their devotions at the shrine of Santa Maria di Loreto. But -during the voyage there arose such a great storm that all thought the -ship in extreme peril of sinking. The owner of the ship therefore -gave his command that each traveler should forthwith throw his most -burdensome possessions into the sea, so that the vessel might be made -lighter. Some rolled casks of wine overboard, and others bales of -cloth; the man from Venice, who did not desire to be found tarrying -behind the rest, seized his wife, exclaiming, “Forgive me, Ursula -mine, but this day you must drink to my health in salt water!” and -would throw her into the sea. The frightened wife making a commotion -with her screams, others ran up, and scolded the husband, asking him -the cause of his action. “The owner of the ship,” said he, “urgently -commanded that we all should throw overboard our heaviest burdens. Now, -throughout my whole life nothing has ever been so burdensome to me -as this woman; hence I was gladly willing to make her over to Father -Neptune.” - - --_Hie! Fie!_ - - - _ST. ANTHONY’S SERMON TO THE FISHES_ - - Saint Anthony at church - Was left in the lurch, - So he went to the ditches - And preached to the fishes. - They wriggled their tails, - In the sun glanced their scales. - - The carps with their spawn, - Are all thither drawn; - Have opened their jaws, - Eager for each clause. - No sermon beside - Had the carps so edified. - - Sharp-snouted pikes, - Who keep fighting like tikes, - Now swam up harmonious - To hear Saint Antonius. - No sermon beside - Had the pikes so edified. - - And that very odd fish, - Who loves fast-days, the cod-fish,-- - The stock-fish, I mean,-- - At the sermon was seen. - No sermon beside - Had the cods so edified. - - Good eels and sturgeon, - Which aldermen gorge on, - Went out of their way - To hear preaching that day. - No sermon beside - Had the eels so edified. - - Crabs and turtles also, - Who always move low, - Make haste from the bottom - As if the devil had got ’em. - No sermon beside - The crabs so edified. - - Fish great and fish small, - Lord, lackeys, and all, - Each looked at the preacher - Like a reasonable creature, - At God’s word, - They Anthony heard. - - The sermon now ended, - Each turned and descended; - The pikes went on stealing, - The eels went on eeling. - Much delighted were they, - But preferred the old way. - - The crabs are back-sliders, - The stock-fish thick-siders, - The carps are sharp-set, - All the sermon forget. - Much delighted were they, - But preferred the old way. - - - THE EIGHTEENTH CENTURY - -Jonathan Swift, the famous author of _Gulliver’s Travels_, wrote -voluminously. His wit was rather heavy, his satire stinging. - -It is unsatisfactory to quote from his longer works, but examples of -his lighter vein are offered. - - - _AGAINST ABOLISHING CHRISTIANITY_ - -Another advantage proposed by the abolishing of Christianity is the -clear gain of one day in seven, which is now entirely lost, and -consequently the kingdom one-seventh less considerable in trade, -business, and pleasure; besides the loss to the public of so many -stately structures now in the hands of the clergy, which might -be converted into play-houses, exchanges, market-houses, common -dormitories, and other public edifices. - -I hope I shall be forgiven a hard word if I call this a perfect cavil. -I readily own there hath been an old custom, time out of mind, for -people to assemble in the churches every Sunday, and that shops are -still frequently shut, in order, as it is conceived, to preserve the -memory of that ancient practice; but how this can prove a hindrance to -business or pleasure is hard to imagine. What if the men of pleasure -are forced, one day in the week, to game at home instead of the -chocolate-house? Are not the taverns and coffee-houses open? Can there -be a more convenient season for taking a dose of physic? Is not that -the chief day for traders to sum up the accounts of the week, and for -lawyers to prepare their briefs? But I would fain know how it can be -pretended that the churches are misapplied? Where are more appointments -and rendezvouses of gallantry? Where more care to appear in the -foremost box, with greater advantage of dress? Where more meetings for -business? Where more bargains driven of all sorts? And where so many -conveniences or incitements to sleep?... - -It may perhaps admit a controversy, whether the banishing all notions -of religion whatsoever would be inconvenient for the vulgar. Not that -I am in the least of opinion, with those who hold religion to have -been the invention of politicians, to keep the lower part of the world -in awe by the fear of invisible powers, unless mankind were then very -different from what it is now; for I look upon the mass or body of -our people here in England to be as Freethinkers--that is to say, as -staunch unbelievers--as any of the highest rank. But I conceive some -scattered notions about a superior Power to be of singular use for the -common people, as furnishing excellent materials to keep children quiet -when they grow peevish, and providing topics of amusement in a tedious -winter night. - - - _THE FURNITURE OF A WOMAN’S MIND_ - - A set of phrases learned by rote; - A passion for a scarlet coat; - When at a play, to laugh or cry, - Yet cannot tell the reason why; - Never to hold her tongue a minute, - While all she prates has nothing in it; - Whole hours can with a coxcomb sit, - And take his nonsense all for wit. - Her learning mounts to read a song, - But half the words pronouncing wrong; - Has every repartee in store - She spoke ten thousand times before; - Can ready compliments supply - On all occasions, cut and dry; - Such hatred to a parson’s gown, - The sight would put her in a swoon; - For conversation well endued, - She calls it witty to be rude; - And, placing raillery in railing, - Will tell aloud your greatest failing; - Nor make a scruple to expose - Your bandy leg or crooked nose; - Can at her morning tea run o’er - The scandal of the day before; - Improving hourly in her skill, - To cheat and wrangle at quadrille. - In choosing lace, a critic nice, - Knows to a groat the lowest price; - Can in her female clubs dispute - What linen best the silk will suit, - What colours each complexion match, - And where with art to place a patch. - If chance a mouse creeps in her sight, - Can finely counterfeit a fright; - So sweetly screams, if it comes near her, - She ravishes all hearts to hear her. - Can dexterously her husband tease, - By taking fits whene’er she please; - By frequent practice learns the trick - At proper season to be sick; - Thinks nothing gives one airs so pretty, - At once creating love and pity. - If Molly happens to be careless, - And but neglects to warm her hair-lace, - She gets a cold as sure as death, - And vows she scarce can fetch her breath; - Admires how modest woman can - Be so robustious, like a man. - In party, furious to her power, - A bitter Whig, or Tory sour, - Her arguments directly tend - Against the side she would defend; - Will prove herself a Tory plain, - From principles the Whigs maintain, - And, to defend the Whiggish cause, - Her topics from the Tories draws. - - - _SUNT QUI SERVARI NOLUNT_ - - As Thomas was cudgell’d one day by his wife, - He took to the street, and he fled for his life. - Tom’s three dearest friends came by in the squabble - And sav’d him at once from the shrew and the rabble; - Then ventur’d to give him some sober advice-- - But Tom is a person of honour so nice, - Too wise to take counsel, too proud to take warning, - That he sent to all three a challenge next morning. - Three duels he fought, thrice ventur’d his life, - Went home--and was cudgell’d again by his wife. - - - _ON HIS OWN DEAFNESS_ - - Deaf, giddy, helpless, left alone, - To all my friends a burden grown; - No more I hear my church’s bell, - Than if it rang out for my knell; - At thunder now no more I start, - Than at the rumbling of a cart; - And what’s incredible, alack! - No more I hear a woman’s clack. - - - _TO MRS. HOUGHTON OF BORMOUNT, UPON PRAISING HER HUSBAND - TO DR. SWIFT_ - - You always are making a god of your spouse; - But this neither reason nor conscience allows: - Perhaps you will say, ’tis in gratitude due, - And you adore him, because he adores you. - Your argument’s weak, and so you will find; - For you, by this rule, must adore all mankind. - -Alexander Pope, a true poet and humorist, sometimes dropped into sheer -nonsense, and often into satirical epigrammatic writing. - -For some inexplicable reason, certain commentators have denied any -sense of humor to Pope, but the following extracts refute this: - - - _LINES BY A PERSON OF QUALITY_ - - Fluttering spread thy purple pinions, - Gentle Cupid, o’er my heart, - I a slave in thy dominions, - Nature must give way to art. - - Mild Arcadians, ever blooming, - Nightly nodding o’er your flocks, - See my weary days consuming, - All beneath yon flowery rocks. - - Thus the Cyprian goddess weeping, - Mourned Adonis, darling youth: - Him the boar, in silence creeping, - Gored with unrelenting tooth. - - Cynthia, tune harmonious numbers; - Fair Discretion, tune the lyre; - Soothe my ever-waking slumbers; - Bright Apollo, lend thy choir. - - Gloomy Pluto, king of terrors, - Armed in adamantine chains, - Lead me to the crystal mirrors, - Watering soft Elysian plains. - - Mournful Cypress, verdant willow, - Gilding my Aurelia’s brows, - Morpheus, hovering o’er my pillow, - Hear me pay my dying vows. - - Melancholy, smooth Mæaunder, - Swiftly purling in a round, - On thy margin lovers wander - With thy flowery chaplets crowned. - - Thus when Philomela, drooping, - Softly seeks her silent mate, - So the bird of Juno stooping; - Melody resigns to fate. - - - _WORMS_ - -To the Ingenious Mr. Moore, inventor of the celebrated worm powder. - - How much, egregious Moore? are we, - Deceived by shows and forms? - Whate’er we think, whate’er we see, - All human race are worms. - - Man is a very worm by birth, - Proud reptile, vile and vain, - Awhile he crawls upon the earth, - Then shrinks to earth again. - - That woman is a worm, we find, - E’er since our grannum’s evil; - She first conversed with her own kind, - That ancient worm, the Devil. - - The fops are painted butterflies, - That flutter for a day; - First from a worm they took their rise, - Then in a worm decay. - - The flatterer an ear-wig grows, - Some worms suit all conditions; - Misers are muck-worms; silk-worms, beaus, - And death-watches, physicians. - - That statesmen have a worm, is seen - By all their winding play; - Their conscience is a worm within, - That gnaws them night and day. - - Ah, Moore! thy skill were well employ’d, - And greater gain would rise - If thou couldst make the courtier void - That worm that never dies. - - Thou only canst our fate adjourn - Some few short years, no more; - E’en Button’s wits to worms shall turn, - Who maggots were before. - - - _EPIGRAM ON MRS. TOFTS_ - - (_A celebrated Opera Singer._) - - So bright is thy beauty, so charming thy song, - As had drawn both the beasts and their Orpheus along; - But such is thy avarice, and such is thy pride, - That the beasts must have starved and the poet have died. - -Joseph Addison, whose literary work had a decided influence on English -letters and manners, contributed much to _The Tatler_ and _The -Spectator_, from which the following extract is taken. - - - _THE WILL OF A VIRTUOSO_ - -I, Nicholas Gimcrack, being in sound health of mind, but in great -weakness of body, do, by this my last will and testament, bestow my -worldly goods and chattels in manner following: - - _Imprimis._--To my dear wife, - One box of butterflies, - One drawer of shells, - A female skeleton, - A dried cockatrice. - - _Item._--To my daughter Elizabeth, - My receipt for preserving dead caterpillars, - As also my preparations of winter Maydew and embryo-pickle. - - _Item._--To my little daughter Fanny, - Three crocodile’s eggs, - And upon the birth of her first child, if she marries with her - mother’s consent, - The nest of a humming-bird. - - _Item._--To my eldest brother, as an acknowledgment for the lands - he has vested in my son Charles, I bequeath - My last year’s collection of grasshoppers. - - _Item._--To his daughter Susanna, being his only child, I bequeath - my English weeds pasted on royal paper, - With my large folio of Indian cabbage. - - Having fully provided for my nephew Isaac, by making over to him - some years since, - A horned scarabæus, - The skin of a rattlesnake, and - The mummy of an Egyptian king, - I make no further provision for him in this my will. - -My eldest son, John, having spoke disrespectfully of his little sister, -whom I keep by me in spirits of wine, and in many other instances -behaved himself undutifully toward me, I do disinherit, and wholly cut -off from any part of this my personal estate, by giving him a single -cockle-shell. - -To my second son, Charles, I give and bequeath all my flowers, plants, -minerals, mosses, shells, pebbles, fossils, beetles, butterflies, -caterpillars, grasshoppers, and vermin, not above specified; as also -all my monsters, both wet and dry; making the said Charles whole and -sole executor of this my last will and testament: he paying, or causing -to be paid, the aforesaid legacies within the space of six months after -my decease. And I do hereby revoke all other wills whatsoever by me -formerly made. - - * * * * * - -John Philips, who was a devoted student and admirer of Milton, wrote a -poem in which he parodied Milton’s style, and which Addison called the -finest burlesque in the English language. - - - _THE SPLENDID SHILLING_ - - “Sing, heavenly Muse. - Things unattempted yet in prose or rhyme”; - A shilling, breeches, and chimeras dire. - - Happy the man, who, void of acres and strife, - In silken or in leathern purse retains - A Splendid Shilling: he nor hears with pain - New oysters cried, nor sighs for cheerful ale; - But with his friends, when nightly mists arise, - To Juniper’s Magpie, or Town Hall repairs; - Where, mindful of the nymph, whose wanton eye - Transfixed his soul, and kindled amorous flames, - Chloe or Phyllis, he each circling glass - Wisheth her health and joy and equal love. - Meanwhile he smokes, and laughs at merry tale, - Or pun ambiguous or conundrum quaint. - But I, whom griping penury surrounds, - And hunger, sure attendant upon want, - With scanty offals, and small acid tiff - (Wretched repast!) my meagre corpse sustain: - Then solitary walk, or doze at home - In garret vile, and with a warming puff - Regale chilled fingers; or from tube as black - As winter-chimney or well-polished jet, - Exhale mundungus, ill-perfuming scent. - Not blacker tube, nor of a shorter size, - Smokes Cambro-Briton (versed in pedigree, - Sprung from Cadwallador and Arthur, kings - Full famous in romantic tale) when he - O’er many a craggy hill and barren cliff, - Upon a cargo of famed Cestrian cheese, - High overshadowing rides, with a design - To wend his wares at the Arvonian mart, - Or Maridunum, or the ancient town - Ycleped Brechinia, or where Vaga’s stream - Encircles Ariconium, fruitful soil! - Whence flow nectareous wines, that well may vie - With Massic, Setin, or renowned Falern. - Thus, while my joyless minutes tedious flow, - With looks demure, and silent pace, a Dun, - Horrible monster! hated by gods and men, - To my aerial citadel ascends. - With vocal heel thrice thundering at my gate, - With hideous accent thrice he calls; I know - The voice ill-boding, and the solemn sound, - What should I do? or whither turn? Amazed, - Confounded, to the dark recess I fly - Of wood-hole; straight my bristling hairs erect - Through sudden fear; a chilly sweat bedews - My shuddering limbs, and (wonderful to tell!) - My tongue forgets her faculty of speech; - So horrible he seems! His faded brow - Intrenched with many a frown, and conic beard, - And spreading band, admired by modern saints, - Disastrous acts forebode; in his right hand - Long scrolls of paper solemnly he waves, - With characters and figures dire inscribed, - Grievous to mortal eyes, (ye gods, avert - Such plagues from righteous men!) Behind him stalks - Another monster, not unlike itself, - Sullen of aspect, by the vulgar called - A Catchpole, whose polluted hands the gods - With force incredible, and magic charms, - First have endued: if he his ample palm - Should haply on ill-fated shoulder lay - Of debtor, straight his body to the touch - Obsequious (as whilom knights were wont) - To some enchanted castle is conveyed, - Where gates impregnable, and coercive chains, - In durance strict detain him, till, in form - Of money, Pallas sets the captive free. - Beware, ye debtors! when ye walk, beware, - Be circumspect; oft with insidious ken - The caitiff eyes your steps aloof, and oft - Lies perdue in a nook or gloomy cave, - Prompt to enchant some inadvertent wretch - With his unhallowed touch. So (poets sing) - Grimalkin to domestic vermin sworn - An everlasting foe, with watchful eye - Lies nightly brooding o’er a chinky gap, - Portending her fell claws, to thoughtless mice - Sure ruin. So her disembowelled web - Arachne, in a hall or kitchen, spreads - Obvious to vagrant flies; she secret stands - Within her woven cell; the humming prey, - Regardless of their fate, rush on the toils - Inextricable, nor will aught avail - Their arts, or arms, or shapes of lovely hue. - The wasp insidious, and the buzzing drone, - And butterfly proud of expanded wings - Distinct with gold, entangled in her snares, - Useless resistance make; with eager strides, - She towering flies to her expected spoils: - Then with envenomed jaws the vital blood - Drinks of reluctant foes, and to her cave - Their bulky carcasses triumphant drags. - So pass my days. But when nocturnal shades - This world envelop, and the inclement air - Persuades men to repel benumbing frosts - With pleasant wines and crackling blaze of wood, - Me, lonely sitting, nor the glimmering light - Of make-weight candle, nor the joyous talk - Of loving friend, delights; distressed, forlorn, - Amidst the horrors of the tedious night, - Darkling I sigh, and feed with dismal thoughts - My anxious mind; or sometimes mournful verse - Indite, and sing of groves and myrtle shades, - Or desperate lady near a purling stream, - Or lover pendent on a willow-tree. - Meanwhile I labor with eternal drought, - And restless wish, and rave; my parchèd throat - Finds no relief, nor heavy eyes repose: - But if a slumber haply does invade - My weary limbs, my fancy, still awake, - Thoughtful of drink, and eager, in a dream, - Tipples imaginary pots of ale; - In vain;--awake I find the settled thirst - Still gnawing, and the pleasant phantom curse. - Thus do I live, from pleasure quite debarred, - Nor taste the fruits that the sun’s genial rays - Mature, john-apple, nor the downy peach, - Nor walnut in rough-furrowed coat secure, - Nor medlar fruit delicious in decay; - Afflictions great! yet greater still remain. - My galligaskins, that have long withstood - The winter’s fury and encroaching frosts, - By time subdued, (what will not time subdue!) - An horrid chasm disclose with orifice - Wide, discontinuous; at which the winds - Eurus and Auster and the dreadful force - Of Boreas, that congeals the Cronian waves, - Tumultuous enter with dire chilling blasts, - Portending agues. Thus a well-fraught ship, - Long sails secure, or through the Ægean deep, - Or the Ionian, till cruising near - The Lilybean shore, with hideous crush - On Scylla or Charybdis (dangerous rocks) - She strikes rebounding; whence the shattered oak, - So fierce a shock unable to withstand, - Admits the sea. In at the gaping side - The crowding waves gush with impetuous rage, - Resistless, overwhelming; horrors seize - The mariners; Death in their eyes appears, - They stare, they lave, they pump, they swear, they pray: - (Vain efforts!) still the battering waves rush in, - Implacable, till, deluged by the foam, - The ship sinks foundering in the vast abyss. - -John Arbuthnot, celebrated both as a physician and a man of letters, -leaves us this bit of nonsense. - - - JOHN ARBUTHNOT - - _A DISSERTATION ON DUMPLINGS_ - -The dumpling is, indeed, an ancient institution and of foreign origin; -but, alas! what were those dumplings? Nothing but a few lentils sodden -together, moistened and cemented with a little seethed fat, not much -unlike our grit or oatmeal pudding; yet were they of such esteem among -the ancient Romans, that a statue was erected to Fulvius Agricola, the -first inventor of these lentil dumplings. How unlike the gratitude -shown by the public to our modern projectors! - -The Romans, though our conquerors, found themselves much outdone in -dumplings by our forefathers, the Roman dumplings being no more to -compare to those made by the Britons than a stone-dumpling is to a -marrow-pudding; though, indeed, the British dumpling at that time was -little better than what we call a stone-dumpling, nothing else but -flour and water. But every generation growing wiser and wiser, the -project was improved, and dumpling grew to be pudding. One projector -found milk better than water; another introduced butter; some added -marrow, others plums; and some found out the use of sugar; so that, to -speak truth, we know not where to fix the genealogy or chronology of -any of these pudding projectors; to the reproach of our historians, -who ate so much pudding, yet have been so ungrateful to the first -professors of this most noble science as not to find them a place in -history.... - -The invention of eggs was merely accidental, two or three of which -having casually rolled from a shelf into the pudding which a goodwife -was making, she found herself under the necessity either of throwing -away her pudding or letting the eggs remain. But concluding, from the -innocent quality of the eggs, that they would do no hurt, if they did -no good, she wisely jumbled them all together, after having carefully -picked out the shells. The consequence is easily imagined: the pudding -became a pudding of puddings, and the use of eggs from thence took its -date. The woman was sent for to Court to make puddings for King John, -who then swayed the scepter, and gained such favour that she was the -making of the whole family. - -I cannot conclude this paragraph without owning I received this -important part of the history of pudding from Mr. Lawrence, of -Wilson-Green, the greatest antiquary of the present age.... - -From that time the English became so famous for puddings, that they are -called pudding-eaters all over the world to this day. - -At her demise, the woman’s son was taken into favour, and made the -King’s chief cook; and so great was his fame for puddings, that he was -called Jack Pudding all over the kingdom, though, indeed, his real name -was John Brand, as by the records of the kitchen you will find. This -Jack Pudding became yet a greater favourite than his mother, insomuch -that he had the King’s ear as well as his mouth at command, for the -King, you must know, was a mighty lover of pudding. It is needless to -enumerate the many sorts of pudding he made. He made every pudding -except quaking pudding, which was solely invented by our friends of the -_Bull and Mouth_. - - * * * * * - -Lord Chesterfield, best known for his _Letters to his Son_, showed -clever wit in his ideas and Phraseology. - -Men who converse only with women are frivolous, effeminate puppies, and -those who never converse with them are bears. - - * * * * * - -The desire of being pleased is universal. The desire of pleasing should -be so too. Misers are not so much blamed for being misers as envied for -being rich. - - * * * * * - -Dissimulation to a certain degree is as necessary in business as -clothes are in the common intercourse of life; and a man would be as -imprudent who should exhibit his inside naked, as he would be indecent -if he produced his outside so. - - * * * * * - -Hymen comes whenever he is called, but Love only when he pleases. - - * * * * * - -An abject flatterer has a worse opinion of others, and, if possible, of -himself, than he ought to have. - - * * * * * - -A woman will be implicitly governed by the man whom she is in love -with, but will not be directed by the man whom she esteems the most. -The former is the result of passion, which is her character; the latter -must be the effect of reasoning, which is by no means of the feminine -gender. - - * * * * * - -The best moral virtues are those of which the vulgar are, perhaps, the -best judges. - - * * * * * - -A fool never has thought, a madman has lost it; and an absent man is -for the time without it. - - * * * * * - -Advice is seldom welcome; and those who want it the most always like it -the least. - - * * * * * - -Of the writers who come next, chronologically, Fielding, Sterne, -Garrick, Smollett, Foote, and others of lesser degree, we can quote no -extracts, owing to the continuous character of their work. - -At this time, humor was broad and wit coarse, yet the plays and novels -of the period have lasted and retained their reputation. - -Which brings us to Samuel Johnson. - -Doctor Johnson’s wit was ponderous, but as his is one of the greatest -names in Eighteenth Century literature, we give a bit from _The -Idler_ which is not entirely inappropriate to the present day. - - - _ON LYING NEWS-WRITERS_ - -No species of literary men has lately been so much multiplied as the -writers of news. Not many years ago the nation was content with one -gazette; but now we have not only in the metropolis papers for every -morning and every evening, but almost every large town has its weekly -historian, who regularly circulates his periodical intelligence, and -fills the villages of his district with conjectures on the events of -war, and with debates on the true interest of Europe. - -To write news in its perfection requires such a combination of -qualities, that a man completely fitted for the task is not always to -be found. In Sir Henry Wotton’s jocular definition, “An ambassador is -said to be a man of virtue sent abroad to tell lies for the advantage -of his country; a news-writer is a man without virtue, who writes lies -at home for his own profit.” To these compositions is required neither -genius nor knowledge, neither industry nor sprightliness; but contempt -of shame and indifference to truth are absolutely necessary. He who -by a long familiarity with infamy has obtained these qualities, may -confidently tell to-day what he intends to contradict to-morrow; he may -affirm fearlessly what he knows that he shall be obliged to recant, and -may write letters from Amsterdam or Dresden to himself. - -In a time of war the nation is always of one mind, eager to hear -something good of themselves and ill of the enemy. At this time the -task of news-writers is easy; they have nothing to do but to tell that -a battle is expected, and afterward that a battle has been fought, in -which we and our friends, whether conquering or conquered, did all, and -our enemies did nothing. - -Scarcely anything awakens attention like a tale of cruelty. The writer -of news never fails in the intermission of action to tell how the -enemies murdered children and ravished virgins; and, if the scene of -action be somewhat distant, scalps half the inhabitants of a province. - -Among the calamities of war may be justly numbered the diminution -of the love of truth, by the falsehoods which interest dictates and -credulity encourages. A peace will equally leave the warrior and -relater of wars destitute of employment; and I know not whether more -is to be dreaded from the streets filled with soldiers accustomed to -plunder, or from garrets filled with scribblers accustomed to lie. - - * * * * * - -Also, lapsing into sheer nonsense verse, Doctor Johnson has left for -our delectation these delightful rhymes. - - As with my hat upon my head - I walked along the Strand, - I there did meet another man - With his hat in his hand. - - The tender infant, meek and mild, - Fell down upon the stone; - The nurse took up the squealing child, - But still the child squealed on. - - If a man who turnips cries, - Cry not when his father dies, - ’Tis a proof that he would rather - Have a turnip than a father. - -Oliver Goldsmith, humorous writer of plays and novels, left many world -famous books. - -His rhymes are often of the nonsense variety, and, as was common in his -day, abounded in puns, or punning ideas. - - - _AN ELEGY ON THE DEATH OF A MAD DOG_ - - Good people all, of every sort, - Give ear unto my song; - And if you find it wondrous short - It cannot hold you long. - - In Islington there was a man - Of whom the world might say - That still a godly race he ran - Whene’er he went to pray. - - A kind and gentle heart he had, - To comfort friends and foes; - The naked every day he clad, - When he put on his clothes. - - And in that town a dog was found, - As many dogs there be, - Both mongrel, puppy, whelp, and hound, - And curs of low degree. - - This dog and man at first were friends, - But when a pique began, - The dog, to gain his private ends, - Went mad, and bit the man. - - Around from all the neighbouring streets - The wondering neighbours ran, - And swore the dog had lost his wits - To bite so good a man. - - The wound it seemed both sore and sad - To every Christian eye; - And while they swore the dog was mad, - They swore the man would die. - - But soon a wonder came to light, - That show’d the rogues they lied: - The man recover’d of the bite, - The dog it was that died. - - - _AN ELEGY_ - - ON THE GLORY OF HER SEX, MRS. MARY BLAIZE - - Good people all, with one accord, - Lament for Madam Blaize, - Who never wanted a good word-- - From those who spoke her praise. - - The needy seldom pass’d her door, - And always found her kind: - She freely lent to all the poor-- - Who left a pledge behind. - - She strove the neighborhood to please - With manners wondrous winning; - And never follow’d wicked ways-- - Unless when she was sinning. - - At church, in silks and satins new, - With hoop of monstrous size, - She never slumber’d in her pew-- - But when she shut her eyes. - - Her love was sought, I do aver, - By twenty beaux and more; - The King himself has follow’d her-- - When she has walk’d before. - - But now, her wealth and finery fled, - Her hangers-on cut short all; - The doctors found, when she was dead-- - Her last disorder mortal. - - Let us lament, in sorrow sore, - For Kent Street well may say, - That had she lived a twelvemonth more - She had not died to-day. - - - _PARSON GRAY_ - - A quiet home had Parson Gray, - Secluded in a vale; - His daughters all were feminine, - And all his sons were male. - - How faithfully did Parson Gray - The bread of life dispense-- - Well “posted” in theology, - And post and rail his fence. - - ’Gainst all the vices of the age - He manfully did battle; - His chickens were a biped breed, - And quadruped his cattle. - - No clock more punctually went, - He ne’er delayed a minute-- - Nor ever empty was his purse, - When he had money in it. - - His piety was ne’er denied; - His truths hit saint and sinner; - At morn he always breakfasted; - He always dined at dinner. - - He ne’er by any luck was grieved, - By any care perplexed-- - No filcher he, though when he preached, - He always “took” a text. - - As faithful characters he drew - As mortal ever saw; - But, ah! poor parson, when he died, - His breath he could not draw. - -William Cowper for the most part writes with a gentle, genial spirit, a -love of nature and a joy in the domestic relations - -His muse, when humorous, is also a bit stilted. - - - _A FAITHFUL PICTURE OF ORDINARY SOCIETY_ - - The circle formed, we sit in silent state, - Like figures drawn upon a dial-plate. - “Yes, ma’am” and “No, ma’am” uttered softly, show - Every five minutes how the minutes go. - Each individual, suffering a constraint-- - Poetry may, but colours cannot, paint-- - As if in close committee on the sky, - Reports it hot or cold, or wet or dry, - And finds a changing clime a happy source - Of wise reflection and well-timed discourse. - We next inquire, but softly and by stealth, - Like conservators of the public health, - Of epidemic throats, if such there are - Of coughs and rheums, and phthisic and catarrh. - That theme exhausted, a wide chasm ensues, - Filled up at last with interesting news: - Who danced with whom, and who are like to wed; - And who is hanged, and who is brought to bed, - But fear to call a more important cause, - As if ’twere treason against English laws. - The visit paid, with ecstasy we come, - As from a seven years’ transportation, home - And there resume an unembarrassed brow, - Recovering what we lost we know not how, - The faculties that seemed reduced to naught, - Expression, and the privilege of thought. - - - _THE COLUBRIAD_ - - Close by the threshold of a door nailed fast, - Three kittens sat; each kitten looked aghast. - I, passing swift and inattentive by, - At the three kittens cast a careless eye; - Not much concerned to know what they did there; - Not deeming kittens worth a poet’s care. - But presently, a loud and furious hiss - Caused me to stop, and to exclaim, “What’s this - When lo! upon the threshold met my view, - With head erect, and eyes of fiery hue, - A viper long as Count de Grasse’s queue. - Forth from his head his forked tongue he throws, - Darting it full against a kitten’s nose; - Who, having never seen, in field or house, - The like, sat still and silent as a mouse; - Only projecting, with attention due, - Her whiskered face, she asked him, “Who are you?” - On to the hall went I, with pace not slow, - But swift as lightning, for a long Dutch hoe: - With which well armed, I hastened to the spot - To find the viper--but I found him not. - And, turning up the leaves and shrubs around, - Found only that he was not to be found; - But still the kittens, sitting as before, - Sat watching close the bottom of the door. - “I hope,” said I, “the villain I would kill - Has slipped between the door and the door-sill; - And if I make despatch, and follow hard, - No doubt but I shall find him in the yard”: - (For long ere now it should have been rehearsed, - ’Twas in the garden that I found him first.) - E’en there I found him: there the full-grown cat - His head, with velvet paw, did gently pat; - As curious as the kittens erst had been - To learn what this phenomenon might mean. - Filled with heroic ardour at the sight, - And fearing every moment he would bite, - And rob our household of our only cat - That was of age to combat with a rat; - With outstretched hoe I slew him at the door - And taught him never to come there no more! - -Richard Brinsley Sheridan, brilliant dramatist and gifted political -orator, wrote many plays, from which it is not possible to quote at -length. - -His epigrammatic style, and his humorous trend are shown in the bits -here given. - - - _LET THE TOAST PASS_ - - FROM “THE SCHOOL FOR SCANDAL” - - Here’s to the maiden of bashful fifteen; - Here’s to the widow of fifty; - Here’s to the flaunting extravagant quean, - And here’s to the housewife that’s thrifty. - Let the toast pass, - Drink to the lass, - I’ll warrant she’ll prove an excuse for the glass. - - Here’s to the charmer whose dimples we prize, - Now to the maid who has none, sir; - Here’s to the girl with a pair of blue eyes, - And here’s to the nymph with but one, sir. - Let the toast pass, etc. - - Here’s to the maid with a bosom of snow; - Now to her that’s as brown as a berry; - Here’s to the wife with a face full of woe, - And now to the damsel that’s merry. - Let the toast pass, etc. - - For let ’em be clumsy, or let ’em be slim, - Young or ancient, I care not a feather; - So fill a pint bumper quite up to the brim, - So fill up your glasses, nay, fill to the brim, - And let us e’en toast them together. - Let the toast pass, etc. - - - _LORD ERSKINE’S SIMILE_ - - Lord Erskine, at woman presuming to rail, - Called a wife a tin canister tied to one’s tail; - And fair Lady Anne, while this raillery he carries on, - Seems hurt at his lordship’s degrading comparison. - But wherefore degrading, if taken aright? - A canister’s useful and polished and bright, - And if dirt its original purity hide, - ’Tis the fault of the puppy to whom it is tied. - - - _SHERIDAN’S CALENDAR_ - - January snowy, - February flowy, - March blowy, - - April showry, - May flowry, - June bowery, - - July moppy, - August croppy, - September poppy, - - October breezy, - November wheezy, - December freezy. - -George Colman, the Younger, best known as a comic dramatist, also wrote -many poetical travesties, which he published under various titles, -including the well known one of Broad Grins. These compositions show a -broad humor, not always in the best taste. - -George Canning, among other amusements, chose to ridicule the Sapphic -rhymes of Southey, and wrote this burlesque upon the humanitarian -sentiments of Southey in his younger days, as well as of the Sapphic -stanzas in which he sometimes embodied them. - - - _THE FRIEND OF HUMANITY AND THE KNIFE-GRINDER_ - - FRIEND OF HUMANITY - - Needy knife-grinder! whither are you going? - Rough is the road; your wheel is out of order. - Bleak blows the blast;--your hat has got a hole in’t; - So have your breeches! - - Weary knife-grinder! little think the proud ones, - Who in their coaches roll along the turnpike- - Road, what hard work ’tis crying all day, - “Knives and - Scissors to grind O!” - - Tell me, knife-grinder, how came you to grind knives? - Did some rich man tyrannically use you? - Was it the squire? or parson of the parish? - Or the attorney? - - Was it the squire for killing of his game? or - Covetous parson for his tithes distraining? - Or roguish lawyer made you lose your little - All in a lawsuit? - - (Have you not read the Rights of Man, by Tom Paine?) - Drops of compassion tremble on my eyelids, - Ready to fall as soon as you have told your - Pitiful story. - - - KNIFE-GRINDER - - Story! God bless you! I have none to tell, sir; - Only, last night, a-drinking at the Chequers, - This poor old hat and breeches, as you see, were - Torn in a scuffle. - - Constables came up for to take me into - Custody; they took me before the justice; - Justice Oldmixon put me into the parish - Stocks for a vagrant. - - I should be glad to drink your honor’s health in - A pot of beer, if you will give me sixpence; - But for my part, I never love to meddle - With politics, sir. - - - FRIEND TO HUMANITY - - I give thee sixpence! I will see thee damned first,-- - Wretch! whom no sense of wrongs can rouse to vengeance,-- - Sordid, unfeeling, reprobate, degraded, - Spiritless outcast! - -_(Kicks the knife-grinder, overturns his wheel, and exit in a -transport of republican enthusiasm and universal philanthropy.)_ - - * * * * * - -Robert Burns, one of the chief names in Scottish literature, has been -called the Dictionary of Poetical Quotations. - -Byron said, “The rank of Burns is the very first of his art”; and the -many-sided Scotchman had both admirers and detractors galore. - -It has been noted that the Scotch have a sense of humor, “because -it is a gift.” Burns’ sense of humor secures for him a high place -among humorists, and though coarse in his expressions, he is not -intentionally vulgar. - - - _HOLY WILLIE’S PRAYER_ - -Holy Willie was a small farmer, leading elder to Dr. Auld, austere in -speech, scrupulous to all outward appearances, a professing Christian. -He experienced, however, “a sore fall”; he was “found out” to be a -hypocrite after Burns’ castigation, and was expelled the church for -embezzling the money of the poor of the parish. His name was William -Fisher. - - O Thou, wha in the Heavens dost dwell, - Wha, as it pleases best thysel’, - Sends ane to Heaven and ten to Hell, - A’ for thy glory, - And no for onie guid or ill - They’ve done afore thee. - - I bless and praise thy matchless might, - Whan thousands thou hast left in night, - That I am here afore thy sight, - For gifts and grace, - A burning an’ a shining light - To a’ this place. - - What was I, or my generation, - That I should get such exaltation? - I, wha deserve such just damnation, - For broken laws, - Five thousand years ’fore my creation, - Thro’ Adam’s cause. - - When frae my mither’s womb I fell, - Thou might hae plung’d me into Hell, - To gnash my gums, to weep and wail - In burnin’ lake, - Where damned Devils roar and yell, - Chain’d to a stake. - - Yet I am here a chosen sample, - To show thy grace is great and ample; - I’m here a pillar in thy temple, - Strong as a rock. - A guide, a buckler, an example, - To a’ thy flock. - - O L--d, thou kens what zeal I bear, - When drinkers drink, and swearers swear, - And singin’ here, and dancing there, - Wi’ great and sma’: - For I am keepit by thy fear, - Free frae them a’. - - But yet, O L--d! confess I must, - At times I’m fash’d wi’ fleshly lust, - An’ sometimes, too, wi’ warldly trust-- - Vile self gets in; - But thou remembers we are dust, - Defil’d in sin. - - O L--d! yestreen, thou kens, wi’ Meg-- - Thy pardon I sincerely beg, - O! may it ne’er be a livin’ plague - To my dishonor, - An’ I’ll ne’er lift a lawless leg - Again upon her. - - Besides, I farther maun allow, - Wi’ Lizzie’s lass, three times I trow; - But, L--d, that Friday I was fou, - When I came near her, - Or else thou kens thy servant true - Wad ne’er hae steer’d her. - - May be thou lets this fleshly thorn - Beset thy servant e’en and morn, - Lest he owre high and proud should turn, - ’Cause he’s sae gifted; - If sae, thy hand maun e’en be borne, - Until thou lift it. - - L--d, bless thy chosen in this place, - For here thou hast a chosen race; - But G--d confound their stubborn face, - And blast their name, - Wha bring thine elders to disgrace, - An’ public shame. - - L--d, mind Gawn Hamilton’s deserts, - He drinks, an swears, an’ plays at cartes, - Yet has sae monie takin’ arts, - Wi’ great and sma’, - Frae God’s ain priests the people’s hearts - He steals awa’. - - An’ whan we chasten’d him therefore, - Thou kens how he bred sic a splore, - As set the warld in a roar - O’ laughin’ at us, - Curse thou his basket and his store, - Kail and potatoes. - - L--d, hear my earnest cry an’ pray’r, - Against that presbyt’ry o’ Ayr; - Thy strong right hand, L--d, make it bare, - Upo’ their heads; - L--d, weigh it down, and dinna spare, - For their misdeeds. - - O L--d, my G--d, that glib-tongued Aiken, - My very heart and saul are quakin’, - To think how we stood sweatin’, shakin’, - An’ swat wi’ dread, - While he wi’ hingin’ lips gaed snakin’, - And hid his head. - - L--d, in the day of vengeance try him, - L--d, visit them wha did employ him, - And pass not in thy mercy by ’em, - Nor hear their pray’r; - But, for thy people’s sake, destroy ’em, - And dinna spare. - - But, L--d, remember me and mine - Wi’ mercies temp’ral and divine, - That I for gear and grace may shine, - Excelled by nane, - An’ a’ the glory shall be thine, - Amen, Amen. - - - _ADDRESS TO THE TOOTHACHE_ - - My curse upon thy venomed stang, - That shoots my tortured gums alang; - An’ through my lugs gies mony a twang, - Wi’ gnawing vengeance! - Tearing my nerves wi’ bitter pang, - Like racking engines. - - When fevers burn, or ague freezes, - Rheumatics gnaw, or cholic squeezes; - Our neighbor’s sympathy may ease us, - Wi’ pitying moan; - But thee,--thou hell o’ a’ diseases, - Aye mocks our groan. - - Adown my beard the slavers trickle; - I throw the wee stools o’er the mickle, - As round the fire the giglets keckle - To see me loup; - While, raving mad, I wish a heckle - Were in their doup. - - O’ a’ the numerous human dools, - Ill har’sts, daft bargains, cutty-stools, - Or worthy friends raked i’ the mools, - Sad sight to see! - The tricks o’ knaves or fash o’ fools, - Thou bear’st the gree. - - Where’er that place be priests ca’ hell, - Whence a’ the tones o’ mis’ry yell, - And rankèd plagues their numbers tell, - In dreadfu’ raw, - Thou, Toothache, surely bear’st the bell, - Among them a’; - - O thou grim mischief-making chiel, - That gars the notes of discord squeal, - Till daft mankind aft dance a reel - In gore a shoe-thick!-- - Gie a’ the faes o’ Scotland’s weal - A fowmond’s Toothache! - - - THE NINETEENTH CENTURY - -Quite lately, a well known humorist of the present day was making -an after dinner speech. A voice from the audience called out, -“Louder!--and funnier!” - -Some such voice must have called out to the World’s Humor at the close -of the Eighteenth Century, for the beginning of the Nineteenth finds -the Humorous element in literature decidedly louder and funnier. - -The Romantic Revival which at this time affected all literature and art -has been called both the effect and the cause of the French Revolution. - -It has also been called the Renascence of Wonder, and as such it let -loose hitherto hidebound fancies and imaginations on boundless and -limitless flights. In these flights Humor showed speed and endurance -quite equal to those of Romance or Poesy. - -Both in energy and methods, Humor came to the front with tremendous -strides. In quality and quantity it forged ahead, both as a component -part of more serious writings and also independently. - -And while this was a consummation devoutly to be wished, it makes -harder the task of the Outliner. - -Many great writers held to the conviction that in Romantic poetry humor -has no place. Others were avowed comic writers of verse or prose. But -others still allowed humor to meet and mingle with their numbers, to a -greater or less degree. - -And the difficulty of selection lies in the fact that the incidental -humor is often funnier than the entirely humorous concept. - -It is hard to omit such as Jane Austen, Sir Walter Scott, William -Wordsworth, yet quotations from their works, showing their humorous -vein, would occupy space demanded by the humorists themselves. - -So, let us start in boldly with Sydney Smith, one of the most popular -wits of all ages. - -Aside from this author’s epigrams and witty sayings, he wrote with -great wisdom and insight about the principles of humor itself, from -which we quote his sapient remarks on punning. - -“It is imagined that wit is a sort of inexplicable visitation, that -it comes and goes with the rapidity of lightning, and that it is -quite as unattainable as beauty or just proportion. I am so much of a -contrary way of thinking, that I am convinced a man might sit down as -systematically and as successfully, to the study of wit as he might to -the study of mathematics; and I would answer for it that by giving up -only six hours a day to being witty, he should come on prodigiously -before midsummer, so that his friends should hardly know him again. -For what is there to hinder the mind from gradually acquiring a habit -of attending to the lighter relations of ideas in which wit consists? -Punning grows upon everybody, and punning is the wit of words. I do not -mean to say that it is so easy to acquire a habit of discovering new -relations in _ideas_ as in _words_, but the difficulty is -not so much greater as to render it insuperable to habit. One man is -unquestionably much better calculated for it by nature than another; -but association, which gradually makes a bad speaker a good one, might -give a man wit who had it not, if any man chose to be so absurd as to -sit down to acquire it. - -“I have mentioned puns. They are, I believe, what I have denominated -them--the wit of words. They are exactly the same to words which wit -is to ideas, and consist in the sudden discovery of relations in -language. A pun, to be perfect in its kind, should contain two distinct -meanings; the one common and obvious, the other more remote; and in -the notice which the mind takes of the relation between these two -sets of words, and in the surprise which that relation excites, the -pleasure of a pun consists. Miss Hamilton, in her book on Education, -mentions the instance of a boy so very neglectful that he could never -be brought to read the word _patriarchs_; but whenever he met with -it he always pronounced it _partridges_. A friend of the writer -observed to her that it could hardly be considered as a mere piece -of negligence, for it appeared to him that the boy, in calling them -partridges, was _making game_ of the patriarchs. Now here are -two distinct meanings contained in the same phrase: for to make game -of the patriarchs is to laugh at them; or to make game of them is by -a very extravagant and laughable sort of ignorance of words, to rank -them among pheasants, partridges, and other such delicacies, which the -law takes under its protection and calls game: and the whole pleasure -derived from this pun consists in the sudden discovery that two such -different meanings are referable to one form of expression. I have very -little to say about puns; they are in very bad repute, and so they -ought to be. The wit of language is so miserably inferior to the wit of -ideas that it is very deservedly driven out of good company. Sometimes, -indeed, a pun makes its appearance which seems for a moment to redeem -its species; but we must not be deceived by them: it is a radically -bad race of wit. By unremitting persecution, it has been at last got -under, and driven into cloisters--from whence it must never again be -suffered to emerge into the light of the world. One invaluable blessing -produced by the banishment of punning is an immediate reduction of the -number of wits. It is a wit of so low an order, and in which some sort -of progress is so easily made, that the number of those endowed with -the gift of wit would be nearly equal to those endowed with the gift of -speech. The condition of putting together ideas in order to be witty -operates much in the same salutary manner as the condition of finding -rhymes in poetry;--it reduces the number of performers to those who -have vigour enough to overcome incipient difficulties, and make a sort -of provision that that which need not be done at all should be done -_well_ whenever it _is_ done.” - - * * * * * - -This quotation from one of Sydney Smith’s Speeches is characteristic of -his style. - - - _MRS. PARTINGTON_ - -I do not mean to be disrespectful, but the attempt of the Lords to stop -the progress of reform reminds me very forcibly of the great storm of -Sidmouth, and of the conduct of the excellent Mrs. Partington on that -occasion. In the winter of 1824 there set in a great flood upon that -town--the tide rose to an incredible height--the waves rushed in upon -the houses--and everything was threatened with destruction. In the -midst of this sublime storm, Dame Partington, who lived upon the beach, -was seen at the door of her house with mop and pattens, trundling her -mop, and squeezing out the seawater, and vigorously pushing away the -Atlantic Ocean. The Atlantic was roused; Mrs. Partington’s spirit was -up; but I need not tell you that the contest was unequal. The Atlantic -Ocean beat Mrs. Partington. She was excellent at a slop or a puddle, -but she should not have meddled with a tempest.--(From a Speech at -Taunton in 1831.) - -And we add the ever popular Recipe for a Salad. - - - _SALAD_ - - To make this condiment, your poet begs - The pounded yellow of two hard-boiled eggs. - Two boiled potatoes, passed through kitchen-sieve, - Smoothness and softness to the salad give. - Let onion atoms lurk within the bowl, - And, half-suspected, animate the whole. - Of mordant mustard add a single spoon, - Distrust the condiment that bites so soon; - But deem it not, thou man of herbs, a fault, - To add a double quantity of salt. - And, lastly, o’er the flavoured compound toss - A magic soup-spoon of anchovy sauce. - Oh, green and glorious! Oh, herbaceous treat! - ’Twould tempt the dying anchorite to eat; - Back to the world he’d turn his fleeting soul, - And plunge his fingers in the salad bowl! - Serenely full, the epicure would say, - Fate cannot harm me, I have dined to-day! - -Charles Lamb, beloved alike of the humorous and serious minded, -disagrees with Sydney Smith regarding the pun. - -His opinion, - -“A pun is a noble thing _per se_. It is a sole digest of -reflection; it is entire; it fills the mind; it is as perfect as a -sonnet--better. It limps ashamed in the train and retinue of humour; it -knows it should have an establishment of its own.” - -is shown in this instance. - -Lamb was reserved among strangers. A friend, about to introduce him to -a circle of new faces, said, “Now will you promise, _Lamb_, not to -be as _sheepish_ as usual?” Charles replied, with a rustic air, “I -_wool_.” - -Such masterpieces as Lamb’s _Dissertation Upon Roast Pig_, and his -_Farewell to Tobacco_ are too lengthy to quote. We give some of -his shorter witty allusions. - - * * * * * - -Coleridge went to Germany, and left word to Lamb that if he wished any -information on any subject, he might apply to him (i.e., by letter), so -Lamb sent him the following abstruse propositions, to which, however, -Coleridge did not deign an answer. - - * * * * * - -Whether God loves a dying angel better than a true man? - - * * * * * - -Whether the archangel Uriel _could_ knowingly affirm an untruth, -and whether, if he _could_, he _would_? - - * * * * * - -Whether the higher order of seraphim illuminati ever _sneeze_? - - * * * * * - -Whether an immortal and amenable soul may not come _to be damned at -last_, and the man never suspect it beforehand? - -GOOD ACTIONS.--The greatest pleasure I know is to do a good -action by stealth, and to have it found out by accident. - - * * * * * - -PAYING FOR THINGS.--One cannot bear to pay for articles he -used to get for nothing. When Adam laid out his first penny upon -nonpareils at some stall in Mesopotamia, I think it went hard with -him, reflecting upon his old goodly orchard, where he had so many for -nothing. - - * * * * * - -NOTHING TO DO.--Positively the best thing a man can have to do -is nothing, and, _next to that_, perhaps, good works. - - * * * * * - -Robert Southey, though one time Poet Laureate, is not to be too highly -rated as a writer. His humorous poems are largely of the “jagged -categorical” type, and are whimseys rather than wit. - -Notwithstanding the aspersion even then cast upon the pun, he regards -it as a legitimate vehicle. - - - _THE TEN LOST TRIBES OF ISRAEL_ - -That the lost ten tribes of Israel may be found in London, is a -discovery which any person may suppose he has made, when he walks for -the first time from the city to Wapping. That the tribes of Judah and -Benjamin nourish there is known to all mankind; and from them have -sprung the Scripites, and the Omniumites, and the Threepercentites. - -But it is not so well known that many other tribes noticed in the Old -Testament are to be found in this island of Great Britain. - -There are the Hittites, who excel in one branch of gymnastics. And -there are the Amorites, who are to be found in town and country; -and there are the Gadites, who frequent watering-places, and take -picturesque tours. - -Among the Gadites I shall have some of my best readers, who being in -good humour with themselves and with everything else, except on a -rainy day, will even then be in good humour with me. There will be the -Amorites in their company; and among the Amorites, too, there will be -some who in the overflowing of their love, will have some liking to -spare for the doctor and his faithful memorialist. - -The poets, those especially who deal in erotics, lyrics, sentimentals, -or sonnets, are the Ah-oh-ites. - -The gentlemen who speculate in chapels are the Puhites. - -The chief seat of the Simeonites is at Cambridge; but they are spread -over the land. So are the Man-ass-ites, of whom the finest specimens -are to be seen in St. James’s Street, at the fashionable time of day -for exhibiting the dress and the person upon the pavement. - -The freemasons are of the family of the Jachinites. - -The female Haggites are to be seen, in low life wheeling barrows, and -in high life seated at card-tables. - -The Shuhamites are the cordwainers. - -The Teamanites attend the sales of the East India Company. - -Sir James Mackintosh, and Sir James Scarlett, and Sir James Graham -belong to the Jim-nites. - -Who are the Gazathites, if the people of London are not, where anything -is to be seen? All of them are the Gettites when they can, all would be -Havites if they could. - -The journalists should be Geshurites, if they answered to their -profession; instead of this they generally turn out to be Geshuwrongs. - -There are, however, three tribes in England, not named in the Old -Testament, who considerably outnumber all the rest. These are the High -Vulgarites, who are the children of Rahank and Phashan, the Middle -Vulgarites, who are the children of Mammon and Terade, and the Low -Vulgarities, who are the children of Tahag, Rahag, and Bohobtay-il. - --From “_The Doctor_.” - - - _THE WELL OF ST. KEYNE_ - - A well there is in the West country, - And a clearer one never was seen; - There is not a wife in the West country - But has heard of the Well of St. Keyne. - - An oak and an elm tree stand beside, - And behind does an ash-tree grow, - And a willow from the bank above - Droops to the water below. - - A traveller came to the Well of St. Keyne; - Pleasant it was to his eye, - For from cock-crow he had been travelling, - And there was not a cloud in the sky. - - He drank of the water so cool and clear, - For thirsty and hot was he, - And he sat down upon the bank, - Under the willow-tree. - - There came a man from the neighboring town - At the well to fill his pail, - On the well-side he rested it, - And bade the stranger hail. - - “Now art thou a bachelor, stranger?” quoth he, - “For an if thou hast a wife, - The happiest draught thou hast drank this day - That ever thou didst in thy life. - - “O has your good woman, if one you have, - In Cornwall ever been? - For an if she have, I’ll venture my life - She has drunk of the Well of St. Keyne.” - - “I have left a good woman who never was here,” - The stranger he made reply; - “But that my draught should be better for that, - I pray you answer me why.” - - “St. Keyne,” quoth the countryman, “many a time - Drank of this crystal well, - And before the angel summoned her - She laid on the water a spell. - - “If the husband of this gifted well - Shall drink before his wife, - A happy man thenceforth is he, - For he shall be master for life. - - “But if the wife should drink of it first, - Heaven help the husband then!” - The stranger stooped to the Well of St. Keyne, - And drank of the waters again. - - “You drank of the well, I warrant, betimes?” - He to the countryman said. - But the countryman smiled as the stranger spake, - And sheepishly shook his head. - - “I hastened, as soon as the wedding was done, - And left my wife in the porch. - But i’ faith, she had been wiser than me, - For she took a bottle to church.” - -Theodore Hook, recorded as “a playwright, a punster and a practical -joker,” also gives a dissertation on puns and a bit of helpful advice. - - * * * * * - -“Personal deformities or constitutional calamities are always to be -laid hold of. If anybody tells you that a dear friend has lost his -sight, observe that it will make him more hospitable than ever, since -now he would be glad _to see anybody_. If a clergyman breaks his -leg, remark that he is no longer a clergyman, but a _lame man_. -If a poet is seized with apoplexy, affect to disbelieve it, though you -know it to be true, in order to say, ‘Poeta nascitur non _fit_’; -and then, to carry the joke one step farther, add that “it is not a -_fit_ subject for a jest.” A man falling into a tan-pit you may -call ‘sinking in the _sublime_’; a climbing boy suffocated in a -chimney meets with a _sootable_ death; and a pretty girl having -caught the small-pox is to be much _pitted_. On the subject of -the ear and its defects, talk first of something in which a _cow -sticks_, and end by telling the story of the man who, having taken -great pains to explain something to his companion, at last got into a -rage at his apparent stupidity, and exclaimed, ‘Why, my dear sir, don’t -you comprehend? The thing is as plain as A B C.’ ‘I dare say it is,’ -said the other, ‘but I am D E F.’ - -“It may be as well to give the beginner something of a notion of -the use he may make of the most ordinary words, for the purposes of -quibbleism. - -“The loss of a hat is always _felt_; if you don’t like sugar you may -_lump_ it; a glazier is a _panes_-taking man; candles are burnt because -wick-ed things always come to _light_; a lady who takes you home from a -party is kind in her _carriage_, and you say “nunc est _ridendum_” when -you step into it; if it happens to be a chariot, she is a _charitable_ -person; birds’-nests and king-killing are synonymous, because they are -_high trees on_; a Bill for building a bridge should be sanctioned -by the Court of _Arches_, as well as the House of _Piers_; when a -man is dull, he goes to the sea-side to _Brighton_; a Cockney lover, -when sentimental, should live in _Heigh Hoburn_; the greatest fibber -is the man most to _re-lie_ upon; a dean expecting a bishopric looks -_for lawn_; a _sui_cide kills pigs, and not himself; a butcher is a -gross man, but a fig-seller is a _grocer_; Joshua never had a father -or mother, because he was the son of _Nun_; your grandmother and your -great-grandmother were your _aunt’s sisters_; a leg of mutton is better -than heaven, because nothing is better than heaven, and a leg of mutton -is better than nothing; races are matters of _course_; an ass can never -be a horse, although he may be a _mayor_; the Venerable Bede was the -mother of Pearl; a baker makes bread when he _kneads_ it; a doctor -cannot be a doctor all at once, because he comes to it by _degrees_; -a man hanged at Newgate has taken a _drop_ too much; the _bridle_ day -is that on which a man leads a woman to the halter. Never mind the -aspirate; punning’s all fair, as the archbishop said in the dream. - -“Puns interrogatory are at times serviceable. You meet a man carrying -a hare; ask him if it is his own _hare_, or a wig--there you stump -him. Why is Parliament Street like a compendium? Because it goes to -a _bridge_. Why is a man murdering his mother in a garret a worthy -person? Because he is _above_ committing a crime. Instances of this -kind are innumerable. If you want to render your question particularly -pointed, you are, after asking it once or twice, to say ‘D’ye give it -up?’ Then favour your friends with the solution.” - - * * * * * - -Richard Harris Barham, author of the _Ingoldsby Legends_, was an -intimate friend of Hook. - -Like many another true humorist he was of the clergy, being a minor -canon of St. Paul’s cathedral. - -His delightful tales are too long to quote, and only some shorter -pieces may be given. - -Barham was among the first to raise parody to a recognized art. - - - _A “TRUE AND ORIGINAL” VERSION_ - - In the autumn of 1824, Captain Medwin having hinted that certain - beautiful lines on the burial of Sir John Moore might have been - the production of Lord Byron’s muse, the late Mr. Sidney Taylor, - somewhat indignantly, claimed them for their rightful owner, - the Rev. Charles Wolfe. During the controversy a third claimant - started up in the person of a _soi-disant_ “Doctor Marshall,” - who turned out to be a Durham blacksmith, and _his_ pretensions - a hoax. It was then that a certain “Dr. Peppercorn” put forth - his pretensions, to what he averred was the only “true and - original” version, viz.-- - - Not a _sous_ had he got,--not a guinea or note, - And he looked confoundedly flurried, - As he bolted away without paying his shot, - And the landlady after him hurried. - - We saw him again at dead of night, - When home from the Club returning; - We twigged the Doctor beneath the light - Of the gas-lamp brilliantly burning. - - All bare, and exposed to the midnight dews, - Reclined in the gutter we found him; - And he looked like a gentleman taking a snooze, - With his _Marshall_ cloak around him. - - “The Doctor’s as drunk as the devil,” we said, - And we managed a shutter to borrow; - We raised him, and sighed at the thought that his head - Would “consumedly ache” on the morrow. - - We bore him home, and we put him to bed, - And we told his wife and his daughter - To give him, next morning a couple of red - Herrings, with soda water.-- - - Loudly they talked of his money that’s gone, - And his Lady began to upbraid him; - But little he reck’d, so they let him snore on - ’Neath the counterpane just as we laid him. - - We tuck’d him in, and had hardly done - When, beneath the window calling, - We heard the rough voice of a son of a gun - Of a watchman “One o’clock!” bawling. - - Slowly and sadly we all walked down - From his room in the uppermost story; - A rushlight we placed on the cold hearthstone, - And we left him alone in his glory. - - - _RAISING THE DEVIL_ - - A LEGEND OF CORNELIUS AGRIPPA - - “And hast thou nerve enough?” he said, - That gray Old Man, above whose head - Unnumbered years had rolled,-- - “And hast thou nerve to view,” he cried, - “The incarnate Fiend that Heaven defied! - --Art thou indeed so bold? - - “Say, canst thou, with unshrinking gaze, - Sustain, rash youth, the withering blaze - Of that unearthly eye, - That blasts where’er it lights,--the breath - That, like the Simoom, scatters death - On all that yet _can_ die! - - --“Darest thou confront that fearful form - That rides the whirlwind and the storm, - In wild unholy revel! - The terrors of that blasted brow, - Archangel’s once,--though ruined now-- - --Ay,--dar’st thou face THE DEVIL?” - - “I dare!” the desperate youth replied, - And placed him by that Old Man’s side, - In fierce and frantic glee, - Unblenched his cheek, and firm his limb: - --“No paltry juggling Fiend, but HIM, - --THE DEVIL! I fain would see!-- - - “In all his Gorgon terrors clad, - His worst, his fellest shape!” the Lad - Rejoined in reckless tone.-- - --“Have then thy wish!” Agrippa said, - And sighed, and shook his hoary head, - With many a bitter groan. - - He drew the Mystic circle’s bound, - With skull and cross-bones fenced around; - He traced full many a sigil there; - He muttered many a backward pray’r, - That sounded like a curse-- - “He comes!”--he cried with wild grimace, - “The fellest of Apollyon’s race!”-- - --Then in his startled pupil’s face - He dashed--an EMPTY PURSE!! - -Thomas De Quincey, one of the best of humorists wrote _Confessions of -an Opium Eater_, with alas, all the necessary conditions to speak at -first hand. - -His clever essay, _Murder as a Fine Art_, we trust, was not -founded on facts. This delightful bit of foolery, one of his many witty -effusions, can be given only in part. - - - _MURDER AS ONE OF THE FINE ARTS_ - -The first murder is familiar to you all. As the inventor of murder, and -the father of the art, Cain must have been a man of first-rate genius. -All the Cains were men of genius. Tubal Cain invented tubes, I think, -or some such thing. But, whatever might be the originality and genius -of the artist, every art was then in its infancy, and the works must be -criticised with the recollection of that fact. Even Tubal’s work would -probably be little approved at this day in Sheffield; and therefore -of Cain (Cain senior, I mean) it is no disparagement to say, that his -performance was but so-so. Milton, however, is supposed to have thought -differently. By his way of relating the case, it should seem to have -been rather a pet murder with him, for he retouches it with an apparent -anxiety for its picturesque effect: - - “Whereat he inly raged; and, as they talk’d, - Smote him into the midriff with a stone - That beat out life. He fell; and, deadly pale, - Groan’d out his soul _with gushing blood effused_.” - -Upon this, Richardson the painter, who had an eye for effect, remarks -as follows, in his _Notes on Paradise Lost_, p. 497: “It has been -thought,” says he, “that Cain beat--as the common saying is--the breath -out of his brother’s body with a great stone; Milton gives in to this, -with the addition, however, of a large wound.” - - * * * * * - -But it is time that I should say a few words about the principles -of murder, not with a view to regulate your practice, but your -judgment. As to old women, and the mob of newspaper readers, they are -pleased with anything, provided it is bloody enough; but the mind of -sensibility requires something more. _First_, then, let us speak -of the kind of person who is adapted to the purpose of the murderer; -_secondly_, of the place where; _thirdly_, of the time when, -and other little circumstances. - -As to the person, I suppose that it is evident that he ought to be a -good man; because, if he were not, he might himself, by possibility, be -contemplating murder at the very time; and such “diamond-cut-diamond” -tussles, though pleasant enough when nothing better is stirring, are -really not what a critic can allow himself to call murders. - - * * * * * - -The subject chosen ought to be in good health: for it is absolutely -barbarous to murder a sick person, who is usually quite unable to -bear it. On this principle, no tailor ought to be chosen who is above -twenty-five, for after that age he is sure to be dyspeptic. Or at -least, if a man will hunt in that warren, he will of course think it -his duty, on the old established equation, to murder some multiple of -9--say 18, 27, or 36. And here, in this benign attention to the comfort -of sick people, you will observe the usual effect of a fine art to -soften and refine the feelings. The world in general, gentlemen, are -very bloody-minded; and all they want in a murder is a copious effusion -of blood; gaudy display in this point is enough for _them_. But -the enlightened connoisseur is more refined in his taste; and from our -art, as from all the other liberal arts when thoroughly mastered, the -result is, to humanise the heart. - -A philosophic friend, well known for his philanthropy and general -benignity, suggests that the subject chosen ought also to have a -family of young children wholly dependent upon his exertions, by -way of deepening the pathos. And, undoubtedly, this is a judicious -caution. Yet I would not insist too keenly on such a condition. Severe -good taste unquestionably suggests it; but still, where the man was -otherwise unobjectionable in point of morals and health, I would not -look with too curious a jealousy to a restriction which might have the -effect of narrowing the artist’s sphere. - -So much for the person. As to the time, the place, and the tools, I -have many things to say, which at present I have no room for. The -good sense of the practitioner has usually directed him to night and -privacy. Yet there have not been wanting cases where this rule was -departed from with excellent effect. - - * * * * * - -LORD BYRON, whose works are variously adjudged by the critics, -owes much to the fact that he was possessed of a distinct and definite -sense of humor. - -It is that which saves many of his long and dull stretches of verse -from utter unreadability. - -His facile rhymes, apparently tossed off with little of or no effort, -embody in the best possible manner his graceful fun. - -The _ottava rima_ of Don Juan, though often careless, even -slovenly as to technical details, is surely the meter best fitted for -the theme. - - Juan embarked--the ship got under way, - The wind was fair, the water passing rough; - A devil of a sea rolls in that bay, - As I, who’ve crossed it oft, know well enough; - And, standing upon deck, the dashing spray - Flies in one’s face, and makes it weather-tough; - And there he stood to take, and take again, - His first--perhaps his last--farewell of Spain. - - I can’t but say it is an awkward sight - To see one’s native land receding through - The growing waters; it unmans one quite, - Especially when life is rather new. - I recollect Great Britain’s coast looks white, - But almost every other country’s blue, - When gazing on them, mystified by distance, - We enter on our nautical existence. - - So Juan stood, bewildered on the deck: - The wind sung, cordage strained, and sailors swore, - And the ship creaked, the town became a speck, - From which away so fair and fast they bore. - The best of remedies is a beef-steak - Against sea-sickness: try it, sir, before - You sneer, and I assure you this is true, - For I have found it answer--so may you. - - “And oh! if e’er I should forget, I swear-- - But that’s impossible, and cannot be-- - Sooner shall this blue ocean melt to air, - Sooner shall earth resolve itself to sea, - Than I resign thine image, oh, my fair! - Or think of anything excepting thee; - A mind diseased no remedy can physic.” - (Here the ship gave a lurch and he grew sea-sick.) - - “Sooner shall heaven kiss earth!” (Here he fell sicker.) - “Oh, Julia! what is every other woe? - (For God’s sake let me have a glass of liquor; - Pedro, Battista, help me down below.) - Julia, my love! (you rascal, Pedro, quicker) - Oh, Julia! (this curst vessel pitches so) - Beloved Julia, hear me still beseeching!” - (Here he grew inarticulate with retching.) - - He felt that chilling heaviness of heart, - Or rather stomach, which, alas! attends, - Beyond the best apothecary’s art, - The loss of love, the treachery of friends, - Or death of those we dote on, when a part - Of us dies with them as each fond hope ends. - No doubt he would have been much more pathetic, - But the sea acted as a strong emetic. - - - _AFTER SWIMMING THE HELLESPONT_ - - If, in the month of dark December, - Leander, who was nightly wont - (What maid will not the tale remember?) - To cross thy stream, broad Hellespont; - - If, when the wint’ry tempest roar’d, - He sped to Hero nothing loath, - And thus of old thy current pour’d, - Fair Venus! how I pity both! - - For _me_, degenerate, modern wretch, - Though in the genial month of May, - My dripping limbs I faintly stretch, - And think I’ve done a feat to-day. - - But since he crossed the rapid tide, - According to the doubtful story, - To woo--and--Lord knows what beside, - And swam for Love, as I for Glory; - - ’Twere hard to say who fared the best: - Sad mortals, thus the gods still plague you! - He lost his labour, I my jest; - For he was drowned, and I’ve the ague. - -Thomas Hood, versatile alike in humorous or pathetic vein, was a -prolific and successful punster. If the form could be forgiven anybody -it must be condoned in his case. He also was apt at parody and often -blended pathos and tragedy with his humorous work. - - - _FAITHLESS NELLY GRAY_ - - A PATHETIC BALLAD - - Ben Battle was a soldier bold, - And used to war’s alarms; - But a cannon-ball took off his legs, - So he laid down his arms! - - Now, as they bore him off the field, - Said he, “Let others shoot, - For here I leave my second leg, - And the Forty-Second Foot!” - - The army-surgeons made him limbs; - Said he, “they’re only pegs: - But there’s as wooden Members quite - As represent my legs!” - - Now Ben he loved a pretty maid, - Her name was Nelly Gray; - So he went to pay her his devours, - When he devoured his pay! - - But when he called on Nelly Gray, - She made him quite a scoff; - And when she saw his wooden legs, - Began to take them off! - - “O, Nelly Gray! O, Nelly Gray! - Is this your love so warm? - The love that loves a scarlet coat - Should be more uniform!” - - Said she, “I loved a soldier once, - For he was blithe and brave; - But I will never have a man - With both legs in the grave! - - “Before you had those timber toes, - Your love I did allow; - But then, you know, you stand upon - Another footing now!” - - “O, Nelly Gray! O, Nelly Gray! - For all your jeering speeches; - At duty’s call I left my legs, - In Badajos’s _breeches_!” - - “Why then,” said she, “you’ve lost the feet - Of legs in war’s alarms, - And now you cannot wear your shoes - Upon your feats of arms!” - - “O, false and fickle Nelly Gray! - I know why you refuse:-- - Though I’ve no feet--some other man - Is standing in my shoes! - - “I wish I ne’er had seen your face; - But now, a long farewell! - For you will be my death;--alas! - You will not be my _Nell_!” - - Now when he went from Nelly Gray - His heart so heavy got, - And life was such a burden grown, - It made him take a knot! - - So round his melancholy neck - A rope he did entwine, - And, for his second time in life, - Enlisted in the Line. - - One end he tied around a beam, - And then removed his pegs, - And, as his legs were off--of course - He soon was off his legs! - - And there he hung, till he was dead - As any nail in town-- - For though distress had cut him up, - It could not cut him down! - - A dozen men sat on his corpse, - To find out why he died-- - And they buried Ben in four cross-roads, - With a _stake_ in his inside! - - - _NO!_ - - No sun--no moon! - No morn--no noon-- - No dawn--no dusk--no proper time of day-- - No sky--no earthly view-- - No distance looking blue-- - No road--no street--no “t’other side the way”-- - No end to any Row-- - No indications where the Crescents go-- - No top to any steeple-- - No recognitions of familiar people-- - No courtesies for showing ’em-- - No knowing ’em! - To travelling at all--no locomotion, - No inkling of the way--no notion-- - No go--by land or ocean-- - No mail--no post-- - No news from any foreign coast-- - No park--no ring--no afternoon gentility-- - No company--no nobility-- - No warmth, no cheerfulness, no healthful ease, - No comfortable feel in any member-- - No shade, no shine, no butterflies, no bees. - No fruits, no flowers, no leaves, no birds. - November! - -The brothers James and Horace Smith, wrote what was in their day -considered lively and amusing humor, but which seems a trifle dry to -us. Their greatest work was the _Rejected Addresses_, a series of -parodies on the poets, such as Wordsworth, Southey, Coleridge, Scott, -Moore and many others. - -One of these, an imitation of Wordsworth’s most simple style, succeeds -in parodying his mawkish affectations of childish simplicity and -nursery stammering. - - - _THE BABY’S DÉBUT_ - - [_Spoken in the character of Nancy Lake, a girl eight years of - age, who is drawn upon the stage in a child’s chaise by Samuel - Hughes, her uncle’s porter._] - - My brother Jack was nine in May, - And I was eight on New-Year’s day; - So in Kate Wilson’s shop - Papa (he’s my papa and Jack’s) - Bought me, last week, a doll of wax, - And brother Jack a top. - - Jack’s in the pouts, and this it is,-- - He thinks mine came to more than his; - So to my drawer he goes, - Takes out the doll, and, oh, my stars! - He pokes her head between the bars, - And melts off half her nose! - - Quite cross, a bit of string I beg, - And tie it to his peg-top’s peg, - And bang, with might and main, - Its head against the parlour-door: - Off flies the head, and hits the floor, - And breaks a window-pane. - - This made him cry with rage and spite: - Well, let him cry, it serves him right. - A pretty thing, forsooth! - If he’s to melt, all scalding hot, - Half my doll’s nose, and I am not - To draw his peg-top’s tooth! - - Aunt Hannah heard the window break, - And cried, “Oh naughty Nancy Lake, - Thus to distress your aunt: - No Drury-Lane for you to-day!” - And while papa said, “Pooh, she may!” - Mamma said, “No, she sha’n’t!” - - Well, after many a sad reproach, - They get into a hackney coach, - And trotted down the street. - I saw them go: one horse was blind, - The tails of both hung down behind, - Their shoes were on their feet. - - The chaise in which poor brother Bill - Used to be drawn to Pentonville, - Stood in the lumber-room: - I wiped the dust from off the top, - While Molly mopp’d it with a mop, - And brush’d it with a broom. - - My uncle’s porter, Samuel Hughes, - Came in at six to black the shoes - (I always talk to Sam): - So what does he, but takes, and drags - Me in the chaise along the flags, - And leaves me where I am. - - My father’s walls are made of brick, - But not so tall, and not so thick - As these; and, goodness me! - My father’s beams are made of wood, - But never, never half so good - As those that now I see. - - What a large floor! ’tis like a town! - The carpet, when they lay it down, - Won’t hide it, I’ll be bound; - And there’s a row of lamps!--my eye! - How they do blaze! I wonder why - They keep them on the ground. - - At first I caught hold of the wing, - And kept away; but Mr. Thing- - um bob, the prompter man, - Gave with his hand my chaise a shove, - And said, “Go on, my pretty love; - Speak to ’em, little Nan. - - “You’ve only got to curtsey, whisp- - er, hold your chin up, laugh, and lisp, - And then you’re sure to take: - I’ve known the day when brats, not quite - Thirteen, got fifty pounds a night; - Then why not Nancy Lake?” - - But while I’m speaking, where’s papa? - And where’s my aunt? and where’s mamma? - Where’s Jack? Oh, there they sit! - They smile, they nod; I’ll go my ways, - And order round poor Billy’s chaise, - To join them in the pit. - - And now, good gentlefolks, I go - To join mamma, and see the show; - So, bidding you adieu, - I curtsey, like a pretty miss, - And if you’ll blow to me a kiss, - I’ll blow a kiss to you. - - [_Blows a kiss, and exit._ - - - _THE MILKMAID AND THE BANKER_ - - A Milkmaid, with a pretty face, - Who lived at Acton, - Had a black cow, the ugliest in the place, - A crooked-backed one, - A beast as dangerous, too, as she was frightful, - Vicious and spiteful; - And so confirmed a truant that she bounded - Over the hedges daily and got pounded: - ’Twas in vain to tie her with a tether, - For then both cow and cord eloped together. - Armed with an oaken bough--(what folly! - It should have been of thorn, or prickly holly), - Patty one day was driving home the beast, - Which had as usual slipped its anchor, - When on the road she met a certain Banker, - Who stopped to give his eyes a feast, - By gazing on her features crimsoned high - By a long cow-chase in July. - - “Are you from Acton, pretty lass?” he cried; - “Yes”--with a courtesy she replied. - “Why, then, you know the laundress, Sally Wrench?” - “Yes, she’s my cousin, sir, and next-door neighbor.” - “That’s lucky--I’ve a message for the wench - Which needs despatch, and you may save my labor. - Give her this kiss, my dear, and say I sent it: - But mind, you owe me one--I’ve only lent it.” - “She shall know,” cried the girl, as she brandished her bough, - “Of the loving intentions you bore me; - But since you’re in haste for the kiss, you’ll allow, - That you’d better run forward and give it my cow, - For she, at the rate she is scampering now, - Will reach Acton some minutes before me.” - HORACE SMITH. - - - _THE JESTER CONDEMNED TO DEATH_ - - One of the Kings of Scanderoon, - A royal jester, - Had in his train a gross buffoon, - Who used to pester - The Court with tricks inopportune, - Venting on the highest folks his - Scurvy pleasantries and hoaxes. - It needs some sense to play the fool, - Which wholesome rule - Occurred not to our jackanapes, - Who consequently found his freaks - Lead to innumerable scrapes, - And quite as many kicks and tweaks, - Which only seemed to make him faster - Try the patience of his master. - - Some sin, at last, beyond all measure, - Incurred the desperate displeasure - Of his serene and raging highness: - Whether he twitched his most revered - And sacred beard, - Or had intruded on the shyness - Of the seraglio, or let fly - An epigram at royalty, - None knows: his sin was an occult one, - But records tell us that the Sultan, - Meaning to terrify the knave, - Exclaimed, “’Tis time to stop that breath: - Thy doom is sealed, presumptuous slave! - Thou stand’st condemned to certain death: - Silence, base rebel! no replying! - But such is my indulgence still, - That, of my own free grace and will, - I leave to thee the mode of dying.” - - “Thy royal will be done--’tis just,” - Replied the wretch, and kissed the dust; - “Since, my last moments to assuage, - Your majesty’s humane decree - Has deigned to leave the choice to me, - I’ll die, so please you, of old age!” - HORACE SMITH. - -It is to be regretted that the feminine writers of this period showed -practically no evidence of humorous scintillation, but we have -searched in vain through the writings of Ann and Jane Taylor, Mary -Russell Mitford, Felicia Hemans and Letitia Elizabeth Landon,--finding -only some unconscious humor, not at all intentional on the part of the -authoresses, as they were then called. - -William Maginn was also adept at parody, but his work was ephemeral. - -The rollicking rhyme of the Irishman is among the most interesting of -his poems. - - - _THE IRISHMAN_ - - There was a lady lived at Leith, - A lady very stylish, man, - And yet, in spite of all her teeth, - She fell in love with an Irishman, - A nasty, ugly Irishman, - A wild, tremendous Irishman, - A tearing, swearing, thumping, bumping, ranting, roaring Irishman. - - His face was no ways beautiful, - For with small-pox ’twas scarred across, - And the shoulders of the ugly dog - Were almost double a yard across. - Oh, the lump of an Irishman, - The whisky-devouring Irishman, - The great he-rogue, with his wonderful brogue, the fighting, - rioting Irishman! - - One of his eyes was bottle-green, - And the other eye was out, my dear, - And the calves of his wicked-looking legs - Were more than two feet about, my dear. - Oh, the great big Irishman, - The rattling, battling Irishman, - The stamping, ramping, swaggering, staggering, leathering swash of - an Irishman! - - He took so much of Lundy-foot - That he used to snort and snuffle, oh, - And in shape and size the fellow’s neck - Was as bad as the neck of a buffalo. - Oh, the horrible Irishman, - The thundering, blundering Irishman, - The slashing, dashing, smashing, lashing, thrashing, hashing - Irishman! - - His name was a terrible name indeed, - Being Timothy Thady Mulligan; - And whenever he emptied his tumbler of punch, - He’d not rest till he’d filled it full again. - The boozing, bruising Irishman, - The ’toxicated Irishman, - The whisky, frisky, rummy, gummy, brandy, no-dandy Irishman. - - This was the lad the lady loved, - Like all the girls of quality; - And he broke the skulls of the men of Leith, - Just by the way of jollity. - Oh, the leathering Irishman, - The barbarous, savage Irishman! - The hearts of the maids and the gentlemen’s heads were bothered, - I’m sure, by this Irishman. - -Thomas Haynes Bayly, though not especially a humorist, showed the -influence of a witty muse in his songs, which were numerous and popular. - -_She Wore a Wreath of Roses_, _Oh, No, We Never Mention Her_ -and _Gaily the Troubadour Touched his Guitar_ are among the best -remembered. - -He was the author of many bright bits of Society Verse, and wrote some -deep and very real satire. - - - _WHY DON’T THE MEN PROPOSE?_ - - Why don’t the men propose, mamma? - Why don’t the men propose? - Each seems just coming to the point, - And then away he goes; - It is no fault of yours, mamma, - _That_ everybody knows; - You _fête_ the finest men in town, - Yet, oh! they won’t propose. - - I’m sure I’ve done my best, mamma, - To make a proper match; - For coronets and eldest sons, - I’m ever on the watch; - I’ve hopes when some _distingué_ beau - A glance upon me throws; - But though he’ll dance and smile and flirt, - Alas! he won’t propose. - - I’ve tried to win by languishing, - And dressing like a blue; - I’ve bought big books and talked of them - As if I’d read them through! - With hair cropp’d like a man I’ve felt - The heads of all the beaux; - But Spurzheim could not touch their hearts, - And oh! they won’t propose. - - I threw aside the books, and thought - That ignorance was bliss; - I felt convinced that men preferred - A simple sort of Miss; - And so I lisped out nought beyond - Plain “yesses” or plain “noes,” - And wore a sweet unmeaning smile; - Yet, oh! they won’t propose. - - Last night at Lady Ramble’s rout - I heard Sir Henry Gale - Exclaim, “Now I _propose_ again----” - I started, turning pale; - I really thought my time was come, - I blushed like any rose; - But oh! I found ’twas only at - _Ecarté_ he’d propose. - - And what is to be done, mamma? - Oh, what is to be done? - I really have no time to lose, - For I am thirty-one; - At balls I am too often left - Where spinsters sit in rows; - Why don’t the men propose, mamma? - Why _won’t_ the men propose? - -Frederick Marryat, oftener spoken of as Captain Marryat was among the -most renowned writers of sea stories, and easily the most humorous of -the authors who chose the sea for their fictional setting. - -His books are well known in all households, and after Dickens there is -probably no English novelist who has caused more real chuckles. - - - _NAUTICAL TERMS_ - -All the sailors were busy at work, and the first lieutenant cried out -to the gunner, “Now, Mr. Dispart, if you are ready, we’ll breech these -guns.” - -“Now, my lads,” said the first lieutenant, “we must slug (the part the -breeches cover) more forward.” As I never had heard of a gun having -breeches, I was very curious to see what was going on, and went up -close to the first lieutenant, who said to me, “Youngster, hand me that -_monkey’s tail_.” I saw nothing like a _monkey’s tail_, but I was so -frightened that I snatched up the first thing that I saw, which was -a short bar of iron, and it so happened that it was the very article -which he wanted. When I gave it to him, the first lieutenant looked at -me, and said, “So you know what a monkey’s tail is already, do you? Now -don’t you ever sham stupid after that.” - -Thought I to myself, I’m very lucky, but if that’s a monkey’s tail, -it’s a very stiff one! - -I resolved to learn the names of everything as fast as I could, that I -might be prepared, so I listened attentively to what was said; but I -soon became quite confused, and despaired of remembering anything. - -“How is this to be finished off, sir?” inquired a sailor of the -boatswain. - -“Why, I beg leave to hint to you, sir, in the most delicate manner -in the world,” replied the boatswain, “that it must be with a -_double-wall_--and be damned to you--don’t you know that yet? -Captain of the foretop,” said he, “up on your _horses_, and take -your _stirrups_ up three inches.” “Aye, aye, sir.” I looked and -looked, but I could see no horses. - -“Mr. Chucks,” said the first lieutenant to the boatswain, “what blocks -have we below--not on charge?” - -“Let me see, sir. I’ve one _sister_, t’other we split in half the other -day, and I think I have a couple of _monkeys_ down in the store-room. I -say, you Smith, pass that brace through the _bull’s eye_, and take the -_sheep-shank_ out before you come down.” - -And then he asked the first lieutenant whether something should -not be fitted with a _mouse_ or only a _Turk’s-head_--told him the -_goose-neck_ must be spread out by the armourer as soon as the forge -was up. In short, what with _dead-eyes_ and _shrouds_, _cats_ and -_cat-blocks_, _dolphins_ and _dolphin-strikers, whips_ and _puddings_, -I was so puzzled with what I heard, that I was about to leave the deck -in absolute despair. - -“And, Mr. Chucks, recollect this afternoon that you _bleed_ all the -_buoys_.” - -Bleed the boys, thought I; what can that be for? At all events, the -surgeon appears to be the proper person to perform that operation. - --_Peter Simple._ - -Douglas Jerrold was an infant prodigy and later a noted playwright; -beside being the author of the world famous Caudle lectures. - -He was a celebrated wit and punster and though many epigrammatic -sayings are wrongly attributed to him, yet he was the originator of as -many more. - - - _COLD MUTTON, PUDDING, PANCAKES_ - -“What am I grumbling about, now? It’s very well for you to ask that! -I’m sure I’d better be out of the world than--there now, Mr Caudle; -there you are again! I _shall_ speak, sir. It isn’t often I open my -mouth, Heaven knows! But you like to hear nobody talk but yourself. You -ought to have married a negro slave, and not any respectable woman. - -“You’re to go about the house looking like thunder all the day, and -I’m not to say a word. Where do you think pudding’s to come from every -day? You show a nice example to your children, you do; complaining, and -turning your nose up at a sweet piece of cold mutton, because there’s -no pudding! You go a nice way to make ’em extravagant--teach ’em nice -lessons to begin the world with. Do you know what puddings cost; or do -you think they fly in at the window? - -“You hate cold mutton. The more shame for you, Mr. Caudle. I’m sure -you’ve the stomach of a lord, you have. No, sir; I didn’t choose to -hash the mutton. It’s very easy for you to say hash it; but _I_ -know what a joint loses in hashing: it’s a day’s dinner the less, if -it’s a bit. Yes, I dare say; other people may have puddings with cold -mutton. No doubt of it; and other people become bankrupts. But if ever -you get into the _Gazette_, it sha’n’t be _my_ fault--no; -I’ll do my duty as a wife to you, Mr. Caudle; you shall never have it -to say that it was _my_ housekeeping that brought you to beggary. -No; you may sulk at the cold meat--ha! I hope you’ll never live to want -such a piece of cold mutton as we had to-day! and you may threaten -to go to a tavern to dine; but, with our present means, not a crumb -of pudding do you get from me. You shall have nothing but the cold -joint--nothing, as I’m a Christian sinner. - -“Yes; there you are, throwing those fowls in my face again! I know you -once brought home a pair of fowls; I know it; but you were mean enough -to want to stop ’em out of my week’s money! Oh, the selfishness--the -shabbiness of men! They can go out and throw away pounds upon pounds -with a pack of people who laugh at ’em afterward; but if it’s anything -wanted for their own homes, their poor wives may hunt for it. I wonder -you don’t blush to name those fowls again! I wouldn’t be so little for -the world, Mr. Caudle! - -“What are you going to do? _Going to get up?_ Don’t make yourself -ridiculous, Mr. Caudle; I can’t say a word to you like any other wife, -but you must threaten to get up. _Do_ be ashamed of yourself. - -“Puddings, indeed! Do you think I’m made of puddings? Didn’t you have -some boiled rice three weeks ago? Besides, is this the time of the -year for puddings? It’s all very well if I had money enough allowed -me like any other wife to keep the house with; then, indeed, I might -have preserves like any other woman; now, it’s impossible; and it’s -cruel--yes, Mr. Caudle, cruel--of you to expect it. - -“_Apples ar’n’t so dear, are they?_ I know what apples are, Mr. -Caudle, without your telling me. But I suppose you want something more -than apples for dumplings? I suppose sugar costs something, doesn’t it? -And that’s how it is. That’s how one expense brings on another, and -that’s how people go to ruin. - -“_Pancakes?_ What’s the use of your lying muttering there about -pancakes? Don’t you always have ’em once a year--every Shrove Tuesday? -And what would any moderate, decent man want more? - -“Pancakes, indeed! Pray, Mr. Caudle--no, it’s no use your saying fine -words to me to let you go to sleep; I sha’n’t. Pray, do you know the -price of eggs just now? There’s not an egg you can trust to under seven -and eight a shilling; well, you’ve only just to reckon up how many -eggs--don’t lie swearing there at the eggs in that manner, Mr. Caudle; -unless you expect the bed to let you fall through. You call yourself a -respectable tradesman, I suppose? Ha! I only wish people knew you as -well as I do! Swearing at eggs, indeed! But I’m tired of this usage, -Mr. Caudle; quite tired of it; and I don’t care how soon it’s ended! - -“I’m sure I do nothing but work and labour, and think how to make the -most of everything; and this is how I’m rewarded.” - - --_Mrs. Caudle’s Curtain Lectures._ - -“Call that a kind man,” said an actor of an absent acquaintance; “a man -who is away from his family, and never sends them a farthing! Call that -kindness!” “Yes, unremitting kindness,” Jerrold replied. - -Some member of “Our Club,” hearing an air mentioned, exclaimed: “That -always carries me away when I hear it.” “Can nobody whistle it?” -exclaimed Jerrold. - -A friend said to Jerrold: “Have you heard about poor R---- [a lawyer]? -His business is going to the devil.” Jerrold answered: “That’s all -right: then he is sure to get it back again.” - - * * * * * - -If an earthquake were to engulf England to-morrow, the English would -meet and dine somewhere just to celebrate the event. - - * * * * * - -Of a man who had pirated one of his jests, and who was described in his -hearing as an honest fellow, he said, “Oh yes, you can trust him with -untold jokes.” - - * * * * * - -Jerrold met Alfred Bunn one day in Piccadilly. Bunn stopped Jerrold, -and said, “I suppose you’re strolling about, picking up character.” -“Well, not exactly,” said Jerrold, “but there’s plenty lost hereabouts.” - - * * * * * - -Jerrold was seriously disappointed with a certain book written by -one of his friends. This friend heard that he had expressed his -disappointment. _Friend_ (to Jerrold): “I heard you said it was -the worst book I ever wrote.” _Jerrold_: “No, I didn’t. I said it -was the worst book anybody ever wrote.” - - * * * * * - -Some one was talking with him about a gentleman as celebrated for -the intensity as for the shortness of his friendships. “Yes,” said -Jerrold, “his friendships are so warm, that he no sooner takes them up -than he puts them down again.” - - * * * * * - -Thomas Moore, called the most successful Irishman of letters of the -nineteenth century, early developed a taste for music and a talent for -versification. To this add his native wit, and we have a humorist of no -mean order. - -He wrote epistles, odes, satires and songs with equal facility, and to -these he added books of travel and biography and history. - -His quick wit is shown in his lighter verse and epigrams. - - - _NONSENSE_ - - Good reader, if you e’er have seen, - When Phœbus hastens to his pillow, - The mermaids with their tresses green - Dancing upon the western billow; - If you have seen at twilight dim, - When the lone spirit’s vesper hymn - Floats wild along the winding shore, - The fairy train their ringlets weave - Glancing along the spangled green;-- - If you have seen all this, and more, - God bless me! what a deal you’ve seen! - - - _LYING_ - - I do confess, in many a sigh, - My lips have breath’d you many a lie, - And who, with such delights in view, - Would lose them for a lie or two? - - Nay--look not thus, with brow reproving: - Lies are, my dear, the soul of loving! - If half we tell the girls were true, - If half we swear to think and do, - Were aught but lying’s bright illusion, - The world would be in strange confusion! - If ladies’ eyes were, every one, - As lovers swear, a radiant sun, - Astronomy should leave the skies, - To learn her lore in ladies’ eyes! - Oh no!--believe me, lovely girl, - When nature turns your teeth to pearl, - Your neck to snow, your eyes to fire, - Your yellow locks to golden wire, - Then, only then, can heaven decree, - That you should live for only me, - Or I for you, as night and morn, - We’ve swearing kiss’d, and kissing sworn. - And now, my gentle hints to clear, - For once, I’ll tell you truth, my dear! - Whenever you may chance to meet - A loving youth, whose love is sweet, - Long as you’re false and he believes you, - Long as you trust and he deceives you, - So long the blissful bond endures; - And while he lies, his heart is yours: - But, oh! you’ve wholly lost the youth - The instant that he tells you truth! - - - _WHAT’S MY THOUGHT LIKE?_ - - _Quest._--Why is a Pump like Viscount Castlereagh? - _Answ._--Because it is a slender thing of wood, - That up and down its awkward arm doth sway, - And coolly spout, and spout, and spout away, - In one weak, washy, everlasting flood! - - - _OF ALL THE MEN_ - - Of all the men one meets about, - There’s none like Jack--he’s everywhere: - At church--park--auction--dinner--rout-- - Go when and where you will, he’s there. - Try the West End, he’s at your back-- - Meets you, like Eurus, in the East-- - You’re call’d upon for “How do, Jack?” - One hundred times a day, at least. - A friend of his one evening said, - As home he took his pensive way, - “Upon my soul, I fear Jack’s dead-- - I’ve seen him but three times to-day!” - - - _ON TAKING A WIFE_ - - “Come, come,” said Tom’s father, “at your time of life, - There’s no longer excuse for thus playing the rake.-- - It is time you should think, boy, of taking a wife.”-- - “Why, so it is, father,--whose wife shall I take?” - - - _UPON BEING OBLIGED TO LEAVE A PLEASANT PARTY_ - - FROM THE WANT OF A PAIR OF BREECHES TO DRESS FOR DINNER IN - - Between Adam and me the great difference is, - Though a paradise each has been forced to resign, - That he never wore breeches till turn’d out of his, - While, for want of my breeches, I’m banish’d from mine. - -Samuel Lover and Charles James Lever are two more versatile Irish -authors, the latter being the most eminent of the Irish novelists. - -Both wrote delightful light verse and many popular songs. - - - _RORY O’MORE_ - - Young Rory O’More courted young Kathleen Bawn. - He was bold as a hawk, and she soft as the dawn. - He wished in his heart pretty Kathleen to please, - And he thought the best way to do that was to tease. - “Now, Rory, be aisy,” sweet Kathleen would cry, - Reproof on her lips, but a smile in her eye; - “With your tricks I don’t know in troth what I’m about! - Faith! you’ve teased till I’ve put on my cloak inside out.” - “Oh, jewel,” says Rory, “that same is the way - You’ve thrated my heart for this many a day; - And ’tis plased that I am, and why not, to be sure, - For ’tis all for good luck,” says bold Rory O’More. - - “Indeed, then,” says Kathleen, “don’t think of the like, - For I half gave a promise to soothering Mike; - The ground that I walk on he loves, I’ll be bound.” - “Faith,” says Rory, “I’d rather love you than the ground.” - “Now, Rory, I’ll cry if you don’t let me go, - Sure, I dream every night that I’m hating you so.” - “Oh!” says Rory, “that same I’m delighted to hear, - For dhrames always go by conthrairies, my dear; - Oh! jewel, keep dhraming that same till you die, - And bright morning will give dirty night the black lie. - And ’tis plased that I am, and why not, to be sure, - Since ’tis all for good luck,” says bold Rory O’More. - - “Arrah, Kathleen, my darlint, you’ve teased me enough, - And I’ve thrashed for your sake Dinny Grimes and Jim Duff; - And I’ve made myself, drinking your health, quite a baste, - So, I think, after that, I may talk to the praste.” - Then Rory, the rogue, stole his arm round her neck, - So soft and so white, without freckle or speck! - And he looked in her eyes that were beaming with light; - And he kissed her sweet lips. Don’t you think he was right? - “Now, Rory, leave off, sir--you’ll hug me no more-- - There’s eight times to-day that you’ve kissed me before.” - “Then here goes another,” says he, “to make sure. - For there’s luck in odd numbers,” says Rory O’More. - SAMUEL LOVER. - - - _LANTY LEARY_ - - Lanty was in love, you see, - With lovely, lively Rosie Carey; - But her father can’t agree - To give the girl to Lanty Leary. - Up to fun, “Away we’ll run,” - Says she; “my father’s so conthrairy. - Won’t you follow me? Won’t you follow me?” - “Faith, I will!” says Lanty Leary. - - But her father died one day - (I hear ’twas not by dhrinkin’ wather); - House and land and cash, they say, - He left by will to Rose his daughter; - House and land and cash to seize, - Away she cut so light and airy. - “Won’t you follow me? Won’t you follow me?” - “Faith, I will!” says Lanty Leary. - - Rose, herself, was taken bad, - The fayver worse each day was growin’; - “Lanty, dear,” says she, “’tis sad, - To th’ other world I’m surely goin’. - You can’t survive my loss, I know, - Nor long remain in Tipperary. - Won’t you follow me? Won’t you follow me?” - “Faith, I won’t!” says Lanty Leary. - SAMUEL LOVER. - - - _WIDOW MALONE_ - - Did you hear of the Widow Malone, ohone! - Who lived in the town of Athlone, ohone? - Oh! she melted the hearts of the swains in them parts, - So lovely the Widow Malone, ohone! - So lovely the Widow Malone. - - Of lovers she had a full score, or more, - And fortunes they all had galore, in store; - From the minister down to the clerk of the crown, - All were courting the Widow Malone, ohone! - All were courting the Widow Malone. - - But so modest was Mistress Malone, ’twas known, - That no one could see her alone, ohone! - Let them ogle and sigh, they could ne’er catch her eye, - So bashful the Widow Malone, ohone! - So bashful the Widow Malone. - - Till one Mister O’Brien, from Clare--how quare! - It’s little for blushing they care down there, - Put his arm round her waist--gave ten kisses at laste-- - “Oh,” says he, “you’re my Molly Malone, my own! - Oh,” says he, “you’re my Molly Malone.” - - And the widow they all thought so shy, my eye! - Ne’er thought of a simper or sigh, for why? - “But, Lucius,” says she, “since you’ve now made so free, - You may marry your Mary Malone, ohone! - You may marry your Mary Malone.” - CHARLES LEVER. - -Winthrop Mackworth Praed belongs to the small group of Londoners which -also included Calverley and Locker-Lampson. At least one great critic -considers Praed the greatest of this band, and so far as metric skill -and finished execution are concerned, he may well be called so. Also, -his taste is impeccable, and his society verse ranks among the best. - - - _A SONG OF IMPOSSIBILITIES_ - - Lady, I loved you all last year, - How honestly and well-- - Alas! would weary you to hear, - And torture me to tell; - I raved beneath the midnight sky, - I sang beneath the limes-- - Orlando in my lunacy, - And Petrarch in my rhymes. - But all is over! When the sun - Dries up the boundless main, - When black is white, false-hearted one, - I may be yours again! - - When passion’s early hopes and fears - Are not derided things; - When truth is found in falling tears, - Or faith in golden rings; - When the dark Fates that rule our way - Instruct me where they hide - One woman that would ne’er betray, - One friend that never lied; - When summer shines without a cloud, - And bliss without a pain; - When worth is noticed in a crowd, - I may be yours again! - - When science pours the light of day - Upon the lords of lands; - When Huskisson is heard to say - That Lethbridge understands; - When wrinkles work their way in youth, - Or Eldon’s in a hurry; - When lawyers represent the truth, - Or Mr. Sumner Surrey; - When aldermen taste eloquence - Or bricklayers champagne; - When common law is common sense, - I may be yours again! - - When Pole and Thornton honour cheques, - Or Mr. Const a rogue; - When Jericho’s in Middlesex, - Or minuets in vogue; - When Highgate goes to Devonport, - Or fashion to Guildhall; - When argument is heard at Court, - Or Mr. Wynn at all; - When Sydney Smith forgets to jest, - Or farmers to complain; - When kings that are are not the best, - I may be yours again! - - When peers from telling money shrink, - Or monks from telling lies; - When hydrogen begins to sink, - Or Grecian scrip to rise; - When German poets cease to dream, - Americans to guess; - When Freedom sheds her holy beam - On Negroes, and the Press; - When there is any fear of Rome, - Or any hope of Spain; - When Ireland is a happy home, - I may be yours again! - - When you can cancel what has been, - Or alter what must be, - Or bring once more that vanished scene, - Those withered joys to me; - When you can tune the broken lute, - Or deck the blighted wreath, - Or rear the garden’s richest fruit, - Upon a blasted heath; - When you can lure the wolf at bay - Back to his shattered chain, - To-day may then be yesterday-- - I may be yours again! - -William Makepeace Thackeray, combining all the highest mental and moral -qualities in his work, adds thereto a delicate and subtle humor, never -broad, but always forcible and original. - -This permeates all his novels, which, of course, may not be quoted -here, even in excerpts. - -But Thackeray was equally happy in verse, and his contributions to -London _Punch_ are among the treasures of that journal’s history. - - - _LITTLE BILLEE_ - - There were three sailors of Bristol City - Who took a boat and went to sea, - But first with beef and captain’s biscuits, - And pickled pork they loaded she. - - There was gorging Jack, and guzzling Jimmy, - And the youngest he was little Billee. - Now when they’d got as far as the Equator - They’d nothing left but one split pea. - - Says gorging Jack to guzzling Jimmy, - “I am extremely hungaree.” - To gorging Jack says guzzling Jimmy, - “We’ve nothing left, us must eat we.” - - Says gorging Jack to guzzling Jimmy, - “With one another we shouldn’t agree! - There’s little Bill, he’s young and tender, - We’re old and tough, so let’s eat he.” - - “O Billy! we’re going to kill and eat you, - So undo the button of your chemie.” - When Bill received this information, - He used his pocket-handkerchie. - - “First let me say my catechism, - Which my poor mother taught to me.” - “Make haste! make haste!” says guzzling Jimmy, - While Jack pulled out his snicker-snee. - - Then Bill went up to the main-top-gallant-mast, - And down he fell on his bended knee, - He scarce had come to the Twelfth Commandment - When up he jumps--“There’s land I see!” - - “Jerusalem and Madagascar, - And North and South Amerikee, - There’s the British flag a-riding at anchor, - With Sir Admiral Napier, K. C. B.” - - So when they got aboard of the Admiral’s, - He hanged fat Jack and flogged Jimmee, - But as for little Bill, he made him - The captain of a Seventy-three. - - - _THE WOLFE NEW BALLAD OF JANE RONEY AND MARY BROWN_ - - An igstrawnary tail I vill tell you this veek-- - I stood in the Court of A’Beckett the Beak, - Vere Mrs. Jane Roney, a vidow, I see, - Who charged Mary Brown with a robbin’ of she. - - This Mary was pore and in misery once, - And she came to Mrs. Roney it’s more than twelve monce - She adn’t got no bed, nor no dinner, nor no tea, - And kind Mrs. Roney gave Mary all three. - - Mrs. Roney kep Mary for ever so many veeks - (Her conduct disgusted the best of all Beax), - She kept her for nothink, as kind as could be, - Never thinking that this Mary was a traitor to she. - - “Mrs. Roney, O Mrs. Roney, I feel very ill; - Will you jest step to the doctor’s for to fetch me a pill?” - “That I will, my pore Mary,” Mrs. Roney says she: - And she goes off to the doctor’s as quickly as may be. - - No sooner on this message Mrs. Roney was sped, - Than hup gits vicked Mary, and jumps out a bed; - She hopens all the trunks without never a key-- - She bustes all the boxes, and vith them makes free. - - Mrs. Roney’s best linning gownds, petticoats, and close, - Her children’s little coats and things, her boots and her hose, - She packed them, and she stole ’em, and avay vith them did flee - Mrs. Roney’s situation--you may think vat it vould be! - - Of Mary, ungrateful, who had served her this vay, - Mrs. Roney heard nothink for a long year and a day, - Till last Thursday, in Lambeth, ven whom should she see? - But this Mary, as had acted so ungrateful to she. - - She was leaning on the helbo of a worthy young man; - They were going to be married, and were walkin’ hand in hand; - And the church-bells was a ringing for Mary and he, - And the parson was ready, and a waitin’ for his fee. - - When up comes Mrs. Roney, and faces Mary Brown, - Who trembles, and castes her eyes upon the ground. - She calls a jolly pleaseman, it happens to be me; - I charge this young woman, Mr. Pleaseman, says she. - - Mrs. Roney, o, Mrs. Roney, o, do let me go, - I acted most ungrateful I own, and I know, - But the marriage bell is ringin’ and the ring you may see, - And this young man is a waitin’ says Mary, says she. - - I don’t care three fardens for the parson and clark, - And the bell may keep ringing from noon day to dark. - Mary Brown, Mary Brown, you must come along with me. - And I think this young man is lucky to be free. - - So, in spite of the tears which bejewed Mary’s cheek, - I took that young gurl to A’Beckett the Beak; - That exlent justice demanded her plea-- - But never a sullable said Mary said she. - - On account of her conduck so base and so vile, - That wicked young gurl is committed for trile, - And if she’s transpawted beyond the salt sea, - It’s a proper reward for such willians as she. - - Now, you young gurls of Southwark for Mary who veep, - From pickin’ and stealin’ your ’ands you must keep, - Or it may be my dooty, as it was Thursday veek - To pull you all hup to A’Beckett the Beak. - - - _WHEN MOONLIKE ORE THE HAZURE SEAS_ - - When moonlike ore the hazure seas - In soft effulgence swells, - When silver jews and balmy breaze - Bend down the Lily’s bells; - When calm and deap, the rosy sleap - Has lapt your soal in dreems, - R Hangeline! R lady mine! - Dost thou remember Jeames? - - I mark thee in the Marble ’all, - Where England’s loveliest shine-- - I say the fairest of them hall - Is Lady Hangeline. - My soul, in desolate eclipse, - With recollection teems-- - And then I hask, with weeping lips, - Dost thou remember Jeames? - - Away! I may not tell thee hall - This soughring heart endures-- - There is a lonely sperrit-call - That Sorrow never cures; - There is a little, little Star, - That still above me beams; - It is the Star of Hope--but ar! - Dost thou remember Jeames? - - - _SORROWS OF WERTHER_ - - Werther had a love for Charlotte - Such as words could never utter. - Would you know how first he met her? - She was cutting bread and butter. - - Charlotte was a married lady, - And a moral man was Werther, - And, for all the wealth of Indies, - Would do nothing for to hurt her. - - So he sighed and pined and ogled, - And his passion boiled and bubbled, - Till he blew his silly brains out, - And no more was by it troubled. - - Charlotte, having seen his body - Borne before her on a shutter, - Like a well-conducted person - Went on cutting bread and butter. - -Charles Dickens, in some senses the world’s greatest humorist, is too -much of a household word, to need either introduction or quotation. - -Nor is it easy to quote from his books, which must be read in their -entirety or in long instalments to get their message. - -One short extract is given, from _Martin Chuzzlewit_. - - - _MRS. GAMP’S APARTMENT_ - -Mrs. Gamp’s apartment in Kingsgate Street, High Holborn, wore, -metaphorically speaking, a robe of state. It was swept and garnished -for the reception of a visitor. That visitor was Betsy Prig; Mrs. -Prig of Bartlemy’s; or, as some said, Barklemy’s; or, as some said, -Bardlemy’s; for by all these endearing and familiar appellations had -the hospital of St. Bartholomew become a household word among the -sisterhood which Betsy Prig adorned. - -Mrs. Gamp’s apartment was not a spacious one, but, to a contented mind, -a closet is a palace; and the first-floor front at Mr. Sweedlepipe’s -may have been, in the imagination of Mrs. Gamp, a stately pile. If it -were not exactly that to restless intellects, it at least comprised as -much accommodation as any person not sanguine to insanity could have -looked for in a room of its dimensions. For only keep the bedstead -always in your mind, and you were safe. That was the grand secret. -Remembering the bedstead, you might even stoop to look under the little -round table for anything you had dropped, without hurting yourself -much against the chest of drawers, or qualifying as a patient of St. -Bartholomew by falling into the fire. Visitors were much assisted in -their cautious efforts to preserve an unflagging recollection of this -piece of furniture by its size, which was great. It was not a turn-up -bedstead, nor yet a French bedstead, nor yet a four-post bedstead, -but what is poetically called a tent; the sacking whereof was low and -bulgy, insomuch that Mr. Gamp’s box would not go under it, but stopped -half way, in a manner which, while it did violence to the reason, -likewise endangered the legs of a stranger. The frame, too, which -would have supported the canopy and hangings, if there had been any, -was ornamented with divers pippins carved in timber, which, on the -slightest provocation, and frequently on none at all, came tumbling -down, harassing the peaceful guest with inexplicable terrors. The bed -itself was decorated with a patchwork quilt of great antiquity; and -at the upper end, upon the side nearest to the door, hung a scanty -curtain of blue check, which prevented the zephyrs that were abroad in -Kingsgate Street from visiting Mrs. Gamp’s head too roughly. - -The chairs in Mrs. Gamp’s apartment were extremely large and -broad-backed, which was more than a sufficient reason for their being -but two in number. They were both elbow-chairs of ancient mahogany, -and were chiefly valuable for the slippery nature of their seats, -which had been originally horsehair, but were now covered with a shiny -substance of a bluish tint, from which the visitor began to slide away, -with a dismayed countenance, immediately after sitting down. What Mrs. -Gamp wanted in chairs she made up in band-boxes, of which she had a -great collection, devoted to the reception of various miscellaneous -valuables, which were not, however, as well protected as the good -woman, by a pleasant fiction, seemed to think; for though every -band-box had a carefully-closed lid, not one among them had a bottom, -owing to which cause the property within was merely, as it were, -extinguished. The chest of drawers having been originally made to stand -upon the top of another chest, had a dwarfish, elfin look alone; but, -in regard of security, it had a great advantage over the band-boxes, -for as all the handles had been long ago pulled off, it was very -difficult to get at its contents. This, indeed, was only to be done -by one of two devices; either by tilting the whole structure forward -until all the drawers fell out together, or by opening them singly with -knives, like oysters. - -Mrs. Gamp stored all her household matters in a little cupboard by the -fireplace; beginning below the surface (as in nature) with the coals, -and mounting gradually upwards to the spirits, which, from motives -of delicacy, she kept in a teapot. The chimney-piece was ornamented -with an almanac; it was also embellished with three profiles; one, -in colors, of Mrs. Gamp herself in early life; one, in bronze, of a -lady in feathers, supposed to be Mrs. Harris, as she appeared when -dressed for a ball; and one, in black, of Mr. Gamp deceased. The last -was a full-length, in order that the likeness might be rendered more -obvious and forcible, by the introduction of the wooden leg. A pair -of bellows, a pair of pattens, a toasting-fork, a kettle, a spoon for -the administration of medicine to the refractory, and lastly, Mrs. -Gamp’s umbrella, which, as something of great price and rarity, was -displayed with particular ostentation, completed the decorations of the -chimney-piece and adjacent wall. - - * * * * * - -William Edmonstoune Aytoun and Theodore Martin, two young men of -brilliant brains, produced together the collection of burlesque and -parodies known as _The Bon Gaultier Ballads_. - -At this time, the middle of the eighteenth century, parody was greatly -in vogue. The Ballads were whimsical, and as a whole, kindly. They were -extremely popular, as much so as the Rejected Addresses, but today they -seem dull and rather futile. - -Another vogue of the day was Bathos, of which the following is a fair -example. - - - _THE HUSBAND’S PETITION_ - - Come hither, my heart’s darling, - Come, sit upon my knee, - And listen, while I whisper - A boon I ask of thee. - You need not pull my whiskers - So amorously, my dove; - ’T is something quite apart from - The gentle cares of love. - - I feel a bitter craving-- - A dark and deep desire, - That glows beneath my bosom - Like coals of kindled fire. - The passion of the nightingale, - When singing to the rose, - Is feebler than the agony - That murders my repose! - - Nay, dearest! do not doubt me, - Though madly thus I speak-- - I feel thy arms about me, - Thy tresses on my cheek: - I know the sweet devotion - That links thy heart with mine,-- - I know my soul’s emotion - Is doubly felt by thine: - - And deem not that a shadow - Hath fallen across my love: - No, sweet, my love is shadowless, - As yonder heaven above. - These little taper fingers-- - Ah, Jane! how white they be!-- - Can well supply the cruel want - That almost maddens me. - - Thou wilt not sure deny me - My first and fond request; - I pray thee, by the memory - Of all we cherish best-- - By all the dear remembrance - Of those delicious days, - When, hand in hand, we wandered - Along the summer braes: - - By all we felt, unspoken, - When ’neath the early moon, - We sat beside the rivulet, - In the leafy month of June; - And by the broken whisper - That fell upon my ear, - More sweet than angel-music, - When first I woo’d thee, dear! - - By that great vow which bound thee - For ever to my side, - And by the ring that made thee - My darling and my bride! - Thou wilt not fail nor falter, - But bend thee to the task-- - A BOILED SHEEP’S-HEAD ON SUNDAY - Is all the boon I ask! - -This extract is from a long poem, called: - - - _THE LAY OF THE LOVELORN_ - - PARODY ON TENNYSON’S “LOCKSLEY HALL” - - Comrades, you may pass the rosy. With permission of the chair, - I shall leave you for a little, for I’d like to take the air - - Whether ’t was the sauce at dinner, or that glass of ginger beer, - Or these strong cheroots, I know not, but I feel a little queer. - - Let me go. Now, Chuckster, blow me, ’pon my soul, this is too bad! - When you want me, ask the waiter, he knows where I’m to be had! - - Whew! This is a great relief now! Let me but undo my stock, - Resting here beneath the porch, my nerves will steady like a rock. - - In my ears I hear the singing of a lot of favorite tunes-- - Bless my heart, how very odd! Why, surely there’s a brace of moons! - - See! the stars! how bright they twinkle, winking with a frosty - glare, - Like my faithless cousin Amy when she drove me to despair. - - O, my cousin, spider-hearted! Oh, my Amy! No, confound it! - I must wear the mournful willow,--all around my hat I’ve bound it. - - Falser than the Bank of Fancy,--frailer than a shilling glove, - Puppet to a father’s anger,--minion to a nabob’s love! - - Is it well to wish thee happy? Having known me, could you ever - Stoop to marry half a heart, and little more than half a liver? - - Happy! Damme! Thou shalt lower to his level day by day, - Changing from the best of China to the commonest of clay. - - As the husband is, the wife is,--he is stomach-plagued and old; - And his curry soups will make thy cheek the color of his gold. - - When his feeble love is sated, he will hold thee surely then - Something lower than his hookah,--something less than his cayenne. - - What is this? His eyes are pinky. Was’t the claret? Oh, no, no,-- - Bless your soul, it was the salmon,--salmon always makes him so. - - Take him to thy dainty chamber--soothe him with thy lightest - fancies, - He will understand thee, won’t he?--pay thee with a lover’s glances? - - Louder than the loudest trumpet, harsh as harshest ophicleide, - Nasal respirations answer the endearments of his bride. - - Sweet response, delightful music! Gaze upon thy noble charge - Till the spirit fill thy bosom that inspired the meek Laffarge. - - Better thou wert dead before me,--better, better that I stood - Looking on thy murdered body, like the injured Daniel Good! - - Better, thou and I were lying, cold and limber-stiff and dead, - With a pan of burning charcoal underneath our nuptial bed! - - Cursed be the bank of England’s notes, that tempt the soul to sin! - Cursed be the want of acres,--doubly cursed the want of tin! - - Cursed be the marriage contract, that enslaved thy soul to greed! - Cursed be the sallow lawyer, that prepared and drew the deed! - - Cursed be his foul apprentice, who the loathsome fees did earn! - Cursed be the clerk and parson,--cursed be the whole concern! - -Charles Kingsley, a clergyman of attainments, possessed the same type -of whimsical humor as the later and greater Lewis Carroll. - -His _Water Babies_ from which a short extract is given, is a -classic in child literature. - - - _THE PROFESSOR’S MALADY_ - -They say that no one has ever yet seen a water-baby. For my part, I -believe that the naturalists get dozens of them when they are out -dredging, but they say nothing about them and throw them overboard -again, for fear of spoiling their theories. But you see the professor -was found out, as every one is in due time. A very terrible old fairy -found the professor out. She felt his bumps, and cast his nativity, and -took the lunars of him carefully inside and out; and so she knew what -he would do as well as if she had seen it in a print book, as they say -in the dear old west country. And he did it. And so he was found out -beforehand, as everybody always is; and the old fairy will find out the -naturalists some day, and put them in the _Times_; and then on -whose side will the laugh be? - -So all the doctors in the country were called in to make a report on -his case; and of course every one of them flatly contradicted the -other: else what use is there in being men of science? But at last the -majority agreed on a report, in the true medical language, one half -bad Latin, the other half worse Greek, and the rest what might have -been English, if they had only learned to write it. And this is the -beginning thereof: - -“The subanhypaposupernal anastomoses of peritomic diacellurite in the -encephalo-digital region of the distinguished individual of whose -symptomatic phenomena we had the melancholy honour (subsequent to a -preliminary diagnostic inspection) of making an inspectorial diagnosis, -presenting the interexclusively quadrilateral and antinomian diathesis -known as Bumpsterhausen’s blue follicles, we proceeded----” - -But what they proceeded to do my lady never knew, for she was so -frightened at the long words that she ran for her life, and locked -herself into her bedroom, for fear of being squashed by the words and -strangled by the sentence. A boa-constrictor, she said, was bad company -enough; but what was a boa-constrictor made of paving-stones? - -“It was quite shocking! What can they think is the matter with him?” -said she to the old nurse. - -“That his wit’s just addled; maybe wi’ unbelief and heathenry,” quoth -she. - -“Then why can’t they say so?” - -And the heaven, and the sea, and the rocks and vales re-echoed, “Why, -indeed?” But the doctors never heard them. - -So she made Sir John write to the _Times_ to command the -chancellor of the exchequer for the time being to put a tax on long -words: - -A light tax on words over three syllables, which are necessary evils, -like rats, but, like them, must be kept down judiciously. - -A heavy tax on words over four syllables, as heterodoxy, spontaneity, -spiritualism, spuriosity, etc. - -And on words over five syllables (of which I hope no one will wish to -see any examples), a totally prohibitory tax. - -And a similar prohibitory tax on words derived from three or more -languages at once, words derived from two languages, having become so -common that there was no more hope of rooting out them than of rooting -out peth-winds. - -The chancellor of the exchequer, being a scholar and a man of sense, -jumped at the notion, for he saw in it the one and only plan for -abolishing Schedule D. But when he brought in his bill, most of the -Irish members, and (I am sorry to say) some of the Scotch likewise, -opposed it most strongly, on the ground that in a free country no man -was bound either to understand himself or to let others understand him. -So the bill fell through on the first reading, and the chancellor, -being a philosopher, comforted himself with the thought that it was -not the first time that a woman had hit off a grand idea, and the men -turned up their stupid noses thereat. - - * * * * * - -Alfred, Lord Tennyson, is conceded the gift of humor by some, but his -other attributes so far outshine it that his amusing bits are hard to -find. A moderately funny poem is: - - - _THE GOOSE_ - - I knew an old wife lean and poor, - Her rags scarce held together; - There strode a stranger to the door, - And it was windy weather. - - He held a goose upon his arm, - He utter’d rhyme and reason, - “Here, take the goose, and keep you warm, - It is a stormy season.” - - She caught the white goose by the leg, - A goose--’twas no great matter. - The goose let fall a golden egg - With cackle and with clatter. - - She dropt the goose, and caught the pelf, - And ran to tell her neighbours; - And bless’d herself, and cursed herself, - And rested from her labours. - - And feeding high and living soft, - Grew plump and able-bodied; - Until the grave churchwarden doff’d, - The parson smirk’d and nodded. - - So sitting, served by man and maid, - She felt her heart grow prouder: - But, ah! the more the white goose laid - It clack’d and cackled louder. - - It clutter’d here, it chuckled there; - It stirr’d the old wife’s mettle; - She shifted in her elbow-chair, - And hurl’d the pan and kettle. - - “A quinsy choke thy cursed note!” - Then wax’d her anger stronger. - “Go, take the goose, and wring her throat, - I will not bear it longer.” - - Then yelp’d the cur, and yawl’d the cat; - Ran Gaffer, stumbled Gammer. - The goose flew this way and flew that, - And fill’d the house with clamour. - - As head and heels upon the floor - They flounder’d all together, - There strode a stranger to the door, - And it was windy weather: - - He took the goose upon his arm, - He utter’d words of scorning; - “So keep you cold, or keep you warm, - It is a stormy morning.” - - The wild wind rang from park and plain, - And round the attics rumbled, - Till all the tables danced again, - And half the chimneys tumbled. - - The glass blew in, the fire blew out, - The blast was hard and harder. - Her cap blew off, her gown blew up, - And a whirlwind cleared the larder. - - And while on all sides breaking loose, - Her household fled the danger, - Quoth she, “The devil take the goose, - And God forget the stranger!” - -Robert Browning, though scarcely to be called a humorous poet, had a -fine wit and a quick and agile sense of whimsey. - -His _Pied Piper of Hamelin_, written to amuse a sick child of -Macready’s, is a masterpiece of quiet humor. His satiric vein is shown -in: - - - _THE POPE AND THE NET_ - - What, he on whom our voices unanimously ran, - Made Pope at our last Conclave? Full low his life began: - His father earned the daily bread as just a fisherman. - - So much the more his boy minds book, gives proof of mother-wit, - Becomes first Deacon, and then Priest, then Bishop: see him sit - No less than Cardinal ere long, while no one cries “Unfit!” - - But some one smirks, some other smiles, jogs elbow and nods head; - Each wings at each: “I’ faith, a rise! Saint Peter’s net, instead - Of sword and keys, is come in vogue!” You think he blushes red? - - Not he, of humble holy heart! “Unworthy me!” he sighs: - “From fisher’s drudge to Church’s prince--it is indeed a rise: - So, here’s my way to keep the fact forever in my eyes!” - - And straightway in his palace-hall, where commonly is set - Some coat-of-arms, some portraiture ancestral, lo, we met - His mean estate’s reminder in his fisher-father’s net! - - Which step conciliates all and some, stops cavil in a trice: - “The humble holy heart that holds of new-born pride no spice! - He’s just the saint to choose for Pope!” Each adds, “’Tis my - advice.” - - So Pope he was: and when we flocked--its sacred slipper on-- - To kiss his foot, we lifted eyes, alack, the thing was gone-- - That guarantee of lowlihead,--eclipsed that star which shone! - - Each eyed his fellow, one and all kept silence. I cried “Pish! - I’ll make me spokesman for the rest, express the common wish. - Why, Father, is the net removed?” “Son, it hath caught the fish.” - -Frederick Locker-Lampson, though following in the footsteps of Praed, -was a more famous writer of the rhymes known as Vers de Société. - -There is no English equivalent for the French term, and attempts -to coin one are usually failures. Society verse, Familiar Verse, -Occasional verse,--each lacks somewhat of the real implication. - -Locker-Lampson, himself a discerning and severe critic, instructs us -that the rhymes should be short, graceful, refined and fanciful, not -seldom distinguished by chastened sentiment, and often playful. - -But, really, playfulness and light, bright humor are more a distinctive -quality of Vers de Société than that dictum stipulates. - -Wit is the keynote, fun the undercurrent of the best of the material -so often collected under this name; and Locker-Lampson made the -first and perhaps the best collection, under the title of _Lyra -Elegantiarum_. - -Typical of all that goes to make up the best form of Vers de Société is -his poem, - - - _MY MISTRESS’S BOOTS_ - - They nearly strike me dumb, - And I tremble when they come - Pit-a-pat; - This palpitation means - These boots are Geraldine’s-- - Think of that! - - Oh, where did hunter win - So delectable a skin - For her feet? - You lucky little kid, - You perished, so you did, - For my sweet! - - The faëry stitching gleams - On the sides, and in the seams, - And it shows - The Pixies were the wags - Who tipt those funny tags - And these toes. - - What soles to charm an elf! - Had Crusoe, sick of self, - Chanced to view - _One_ printed near the tide, - Oh, how hard he would have tried - For the two! - - For Gerry’s debonair - And innocent, and fair - As a rose; - She’s an angel in a frock, - With a fascinating cock - To her nose. - - The simpletons who squeeze - Their extremities to please - Mandarins, - Would positively flinch - From venturing to pinch - Geraldine’s. - - Cinderella’s _lefts and rights_, - To Geraldine’s were frights; - And I trow, - The damsel, deftly shod, - Has dutifully trod - Until now. - - Come, Gerry, since it suits - Such a pretty Puss (in Boots) - These to don; - Set this dainty hand awhile - On my shoulder, dear, and I’ll - Put them on. - - - _ON A SENSE OF HUMOUR_ - - He cannot be complete in aught - Who is not humorously prone; - A man without a merry thought - Can hardly have a funny-bone. - - - _SOME LADIES_ - - Some ladies now make pretty songs, - And some make pretty nurses; - Some men are great at righting wrongs - And some at writing verses. - - - _A TERRIBLE INFANT_ - - I recollect a nurse call’d Ann, - Who carried me about the grass, - And one fine day a fine young man - Came up, and kiss’d the pretty lass. - She did not make the least objection! - Thinks I, “_Aha! - When I can talk I’ll tell Mamma_” - --And that’s my earliest recollection. - -Charles Stuart Calverley is called the Prince of Parodists, but his -genius deserves far higher praise than that. - -His serious work is of a high order but it is for his humorous verse -that he is most loved and praised. - -His parodies while showing the best and finest burlesque qualities, are -also poems in themselves, and are of an exquisite wit and a spontaneous -humor rarely excelled. - -One of the best is the ballad in which Rossetti’s manner is parodied in -very spirit. - - - _BALLAD_ - - - PART I - - The auld wife sat at her ivied door, - (_Butter and eggs and a pound of cheese_) - A thing she had frequently done before; - And her spectacles lay on her apron’d knees. - - The piper he piped on the hilltop high, - (_Butter and eggs and a pound of cheese_) - Till the cow said “I die,” and the goose asked “Why?” - And the dog said nothing, but search’d for fleas. - - The farmer he strode through the square farmyard; - (_Butter and eggs and a pound of cheese_) - His last brew of ale was a trifle hard-- - The connection of which the plot one sees. - - The farmer’s daughter hath frank blue eyes; - (_Butter and eggs and a pound of cheese_) - She hears the rooks caw in the windy skies. - As she sits at her lattice and shells her peas. - - The farmer’s daughter hath ripe red lips; - (_Butter and eggs and a pound of cheese_) - If you try to approach her, away she skips - Over tables and chairs with apparent ease. - - The farmer’s daughter hath soft brown hair; - (_Butter and eggs and a pound of cheese_) - And I met with a ballad, I can’t say where, - Which wholly consisted of lines like these. - - - PART II - - She sat with her hands ’neath her dimpled cheeks, - (_Butter and eggs and a pound of cheese_) - And spake not a word. While a lady speaks - There is hope, but she didn’t even sneeze. - - She sat, with her hands ’neath her crimson cheeks; - (_Butter and eggs and a pound of cheese_) - She gave up mending her father’s breeks, - And let the cat roll in her new chemise. - - She sat with her hands ’neath her burning cheeks, - (_Butter and eggs and a pound of cheese_) - And gazed at the piper for thirteen weeks; - Then she follow’d him o’er the misty leas. - - Her sheep follow’d her, as their tails did them, - (_Butter and eggs and a pound of cheese_) - And this song is consider’d a perfect gem, - And as to the meaning, it’s what you please. - -Equally marvelous in its assured touch and utter lack of mere burlesque -exaggeration is his parody of Browning. - - - _THE COCK AND THE BULL_ - - You see this pebble-stone? It’s a thing I bought - Of a bit of a chit of a boy i’ the mid o’ the day. - I like to dock the smaller parts o’ speech, - As we curtail the already cur-tail’d cur-- - (You catch the paronomasia, play ’po’ words?) - Did, rather, i’ the pre-Landseerian days. - Well, to my muttons. I purchased the concern, - And clapt it i’ my poke, having given for same - By way o’ chop, swop, barter or exchange-- - “Chop” was my snickering dandiprat’s own term-- - One shilling and fourpence, current coin o’ the realm. - O-n-e one, and f-o-u-r four - Pence, one and fourpence--you are with me, sir?-- - What hour it skills not: ten or eleven o’ the clock, - One day (and what a roaring day it was - Go shop or sight-see--bar a spit o’ rain!) - In February, eighteen, sixty-nine, - Alexandria Victoria, Fidei-- - Hm--hm--how runs the jargon? being on the throne. - Such, sir, are all the facts, succinctly put, - The basis or substratum--what you will-- - Of the impending eighty thousand lines. - “Not much in ’em either,” quoth perhaps simple Hodge. - But there’s a superstructure. Wait a bit. - Mark first the rationale of the thing: - Hear logic rivel and levigate the deed. - That shilling--and for matter o’ that, the pence-- - I had o’ course upo’ me--wi’ me say-- - (_Mecum’s_ the Latin, make a note o’ that) - When I popp’d pen i’ stand, scratch’d ear, wiped snout, - (Let everybody wipe his own himself) - Sniff’d--tch!--at snuff-box; tumbled up, teheed, - Haw-haw’d (not hee-haw’d, that’s another guess thing), - Then fumbled at and stumbled out of, door. - I shoved the timber ope wi’ my omoplat; - And _in vestibulo_, i’ the lobby to wit - (Iacobi Facciolati’s rendering, sir), - Donn’d galligaskins, antigropeloes, - And so forth; and, complete with hat and gloves, - One on and one a-dangle i’ my hand, - And ombrifuge (Lord love you!), case o’ rain, - I flopp’d forth, ’sbuddikins! on my own ten toes - (I do assure you there be ten of them), - And went clump-clumping up hill and down dale - To find myself o’ the sudden i’ front o’ the boy. - But case I hadn’t ’em on me, could I ha’ bought - This sort-o’-kind-o’-what-you-might-call toy, - This pebble thing, o’ the boy-thing? Q. E. D. - That’s proven without aid from mumping Pope, - Sleek proporate or bloated Cardinal. - (Isn’t it, old Fatchaps? You’re in Euclid now.) - So, having the shilling--having i’ fact a lot-- - And pence and halfpence, ever so many o’ them, - I purchased, as I think I said before, - The pebble (_lapis, lapidis,-di,-dem,-de--_ - What nouns ’crease short i’ the genitive, Fatchaps, eh?) - O’ the boy, a bare-legg’d beggarly son of a gun, - For one and fourpence. Here we are again. - Now Law steps in, bigwigg’d, voluminous-jaw’d; - Investigates and re-investigates. - Was the transaction illegal? Law shakes head - Perpend, sir, all the bearings of the case. - - At first the coin was mine, the chattel his. - But now (by virtue of the said exchange - And barter) _vice versa_ all the coin, - _Per juris operationem_, vests - I’ the boy and his assigns till ding o’ doom; - (_In sæcula sæculo-o-o-rum_; - I think I hear the Abate mouth out that.) - To have and hold the same to him and them. - _Confer_ some idiot on Conveyancing. - - Whereas the pebble and every part thereof, - And all that appertaineth thereunto, - _Quodcunque pertinet ad eam rem_ - (I fancy, sir, my Latin’s rather pat), - Or shall, will, may, might, can, could, would or should - (_Subaudi cætera_--clap we to the close-- - For what’s the good of Law in a case o’ the kind), - Is mine to all intents and purposes. - This settled, I resume the thread o’ the tale. - - Now for a touch o’ the vendor’s quality. - He says a gen’lman bought a pebble of him - (This pebble i’ sooth, sir, which I hold i’ my hand), - And paid for’t, _like_ a gen’lman, on the nail. - “Did I o’ercharge him a ha’penny? Devil a bit. - Fiddlepin’s end! Get out, you blazing ass! - Gabble o’ the goose. Don’t bugaboo-baby _me_! - Go double or quits? Yah! tittup! what’s the odds?” - There’s the transaction view’d i’ the vendor’s light. - - Next ask that dumpled hag, stood snuffling by, - With her three frowsy blowsy brats o’ babes, - The scum o’ the kennel, cream o’ the filth-heap--Faugh! - Aie, aie, aie, aie! οτοτοτοτοτοι - (’Stead which we blurt out Hoighty toighty now), - And the baker and candlestickmaker, and Jack and Jill, - Blear’d Goody this and queasy Gaffer that. - Ask the schoolmaster. Take schoolmaster first. - - He saw a gentleman purchase of a lad - A stone, and pay for it _rite_, on the square, - And carry it off _per saltum_, jauntily, - _Propria quae maribus_, gentleman’s property now - (Agreeably to the law explain’d above), - _In proprium usum_, for his private ends, - The boy he chuck’d a brown i’ the air, and bit - I’ the face the shilling; heaved a thumping stone - At a lean hen that ran cluck clucking by - (And hit her, dead as nail i’ post o’ door), - Then _abiit_--what’s the Ciceronian phrase?-- - _Excessit_, _evasit_, _erupit_--off slogs boy; - Off like bird, _avi similis_--you observed - The dative? Pretty i’ the Mantuan!)--_Anglice_ - Off in three flea skips. _Hactenus_, so far, - So good, _tam bene_. _Bene_, _satis_, _male_,-- - Where was I with my trope ’bout one in a quag? - I did once hitch the syntax into verse: - _Verbum personale_, a verb personal, - _Concordat_--ay, “agrees,” old Fatchaps--_cum_ - _Nominativo_, with its nominative, - _Genere_, i’ point o’ gender, _numero_, - O’ number, _et persona_, and person. _Ut_, - Instance: _Sol ruit_, down flops sun, _et_, and, - _Montes umbrantur_, out flounce mountains. Pah! - Excuse me, sir, I think I’m going mad. - You see the trick on ’t though, and can yourself - Continue the discourse _ad libitum_. - It takes up about eighty thousand lines, - A thing imagination boggles at; - And might, odds-bobs, sir! in judicious hands, - Extend from here to Mesopotamy. - -While the style of Jean Ingelow is thus genially made fun of. - - - _LOVERS, AND A REFLECTION_ - - In moss-prankt dells which the sunbeams flatter - (And heaven it knoweth what that may mean; - Meaning, however, is no great matter) - Where woods are a-tremble, with rifts atween; - - Through God’s own heather we wonned together, - I and my Willie (O love my love): - I need hardly remark it was glorious weather, - And flitterbats wavered alow, above: - - Boats were curtseying, rising, bowing - (Boats in that climate are so polite), - And sands were a ribbon of green endowing, - And O the sun-dazzle on bark and bight! - - Through the rare red heather we danced together, - (O love my Willie!) and smelt for flowers: - I must mention again it was glorious weather, - Rhymes are so scarce in this world of ours:-- - - By rises that flushed with their purple favors, - Through becks that brattled o’er grasses sheen, - We walked or waded, we two young shavers, - Thanking our stars we were both so green. - - We journeyed in parallels, I and Willie, - In “fortunate parallels!” Butterflies, - Hid in weltering shadows of daffodilly - Or marjoram, kept making peacock’s eyes: - - Song-birds darted about, some inky - As coal, some snowy (I ween) as curds; - Or rosy as pinks, or as roses pinky-- - They reck of no eerie To-come, those birds! - - But they skim over bents which the mill-stream washes, - Or hang in the lift ’neath a white cloud’s hem; - They need no parasols, no galoshes; - And good Mrs. Trimmer she feedeth them. - - Then we thrid God’s cowslips (as erst his heather) - That endowed the wan grass with their golden blooms; - And snapt--(it was perfectly charming weather)-- - Our fingers at Fate and her goddess-glooms: - - And Willie ’gan sing--(O, his notes were fluty; - Wafts fluttered them out to the white-winged sea)-- - Something made up of rhymes that have done much duty, - Rhymes (better to put it) of “ancientry”: - - Bowers of flowers encountered showers - In William’s carol (O love my Willie!) - When he bade sorrow borrow from blithe To-morrow - I quite forget what--say a daffodilly: - - A nest in a hollow, “with buds to follow,” - I think occurred next in his nimble strain; - And clay that was “kneaden” of course in Eden-- - A rhyme most novel, I do maintain: - - Mists, bones, the singer himself, love-stories, - And all least furlable things got “furled”; - Not with any design to conceal their glories, - But simply and solely to rhyme with “world.” - - * * * * * - - O, if billows and pillows and hours and flowers, - And all the brave rhymes of an elder day, - Could be furled together this genial weather, - And carted, or carried on wafts away, - Nor ever again trotted out--ah me! - How much fewer volumes of verse there’d be! - - - _ODE TO TOBACCO_ - - Thou who, when fears attack, - Bid’st them avaunt, and Black - Care, at the horseman’s back - Perching, unseatest; - Sweet when the morn is gray; - Sweet, when they’ve cleared away - Lunch; and at close of day - Possibly sweetest: - - I have a liking old - For thee, though manifold - Stories, I know, are told, - Not to thy credit; - How one (or two at most) - Drops make a cat a ghost-- - Useless, except to roast-- - Doctors have said it: - - How they who use fusees - All grow by slow degrees - Brainless as chimpanzees, - Meagre as lizards; - Go mad, and beat their wives; - Plunge (after shocking lives) - Razors and carving-knives - Into their gizzards. - - Confound such knavish tricks! - Yet know I five or six - Smokers who freely mix - Still with their neighbors; - Jones--(who, I’m glad to say, - Asked leave of Mrs. J.)-- - Daily absorbs a clay - After his labors. - - Cats may have had their goose - Cooked by tobacco-juice; - Still why deny its use - Thoughtfully taken? - We’re not as tabbies are: - Smith, take a fresh cigar! - Jones, the tobacco-jar! - Here’s to thee, Bacon! - -Charles Lutwidge Dodgson is better known as Lewis Carroll, though -during his lifetime, the author of _Alice_ was extremely careful -to preserve a decided distinction between the College Don and the -writer of nonsense. - -Lewis Carroll was the first to produce coherent humor in the form of -sheer nonsense, and his work, often imitated, has never been equaled. - -Beside the _Alice_ books he wrote several volumes only a degree -less wise and witty in the nonsense vein. - -But few selections can be given. - - - _JABBERWOCKY_ - - (From _Through the Looking-Glass_) - - ’Twas brillig, and the slithy toves - Did gyre and gimble in the wabe; - All mimsy were the borogoves, - And the mome raths outgrabe. - - “Beware the Jabberwock, my son! - The jaws that bite, the claws that catch - Beware the Jubjub bird, and shun - The frumious Bandersnatch!” - - He took his vorpal sword in hand: - Long time the manxome foe he sought-- - So rested he by the Tumtum tree, - And stood awhile in thought. - - And, as in uffish thought he stood, - The Jabberwock, with eyes of flame, - Came whiffling through the tulgey wood, - And burbled as it came! - - One, two! One, two! And through and through - The vorpal blade went snicker-snack! - He left it dead, and with its head - He went galumphing back. - - “And hast thou slain the Jabberwock? - Come to my arms, my beamish boy! - O frabjous day! Callooh! Callay!” - He chortled in his joy. - - ’Twas brillig, and the slithy toves - Did gyre and gimble in the wabe; - All mimsy were the borogoves, - And the mome raths outgrabe. - - - _WAYS AND MEANS_ - - I’ll tell thee everything I can; - There’s little to relate. - I saw an aged aged man, - A-sitting on a gate. - “Who are you, aged man?” I said, - “And how is it you live?” - His answer trickled through my head - Like water through a sieve. - - He said, “I look for butterflies - That sleep among the wheat: - I make them into mutton-pies, - And sell them in the street. - I sell them unto men,” he said, - “Who sail on stormy seas; - And that’s the way I get my bread-- - A trifle, if you please.” - - But I was thinking of a plan - To dye one’s whiskers green, - And always use so large a fan - That they could not be seen. - So, having no reply to give - To what the old man said, - I cried, “Come, tell me how you live!” - And thumped him on the head. - - His accents mild took up the tale; - He said, “I go my ways - And when I find a mountain-rill - I set it in a blaze; - And thence they make a stuff they call - Rowland’s Macassar Oil-- - Yet twopence-halfpenny is all - They give me for my toil.” - - But I was thinking of a way - To feed oneself on batter, - And so go on from day to day - Getting a little fatter. - I shook him well from side to side, - Until his face was blue; - “Come, tell me how you live,” I cried, - “And what it is you do!” - - He said, “I hunt for haddock’s eyes - Among the heather bright, - And work them into waistcoat-buttons - In the silent night. - And these I do not sell for gold - Or coin of silvery shine, - But for a copper halfpenny - And that will purchase nine. - - “I sometimes dig for buttered rolls, - Or set limed twigs for crabs; - I sometimes search the grassy knolls - For wheels of Hansom cabs. - And that’s the way” (he gave a wink) - “By which I get my wealth-- - And very gladly will I drink - Your Honor’s noble health.” - - I heard him then, for I had just - Completed my design - To keep the Menai Bridge from rust - By boiling it in wine. - I thanked him much for telling me - The way he got his wealth, - But chiefly for his wish that he - Might drink my noble health. - - And now if e’er by chance I put - My fingers into glue, - Or madly squeeze a right-hand foot - Into a left-hand shoe, - Or if I drop upon my toe - A very heavy weight, - I weep, for it reminds me so - Of that old man I used to know-- - Whose look was mild, whose speech was slow, - Whose hair was whiter than the snow, - Whose face was very like a crow, - With eyes, like cinders, all aglow, - Who seemed distracted with his woe, - Who rocked his body to and fro, - And muttered mumblingly, and low, - As if his mouth were full of dough, - Who snorted like a buffalo-- - That summer evening, long ago, - A-sitting on a gate. - - - _SOME HALLUCINATIONS_ - - He thought he saw an Elephant, - That practised on a fife: - He looked again, and found it was - A letter from his wife. - “At length I realize,” he said, - “The bitterness of Life!” - - He thought he saw a Buffalo - Upon the chimney-piece: - He looked again, and found it was - His Sister’s Husband’s Niece. - “Unless you leave this house,” he said, - “I’ll send for the Police!” - - He thought he saw a Rattlesnake - That questioned him in Greek: - He looked again, and found it was - The Middle of Next Week. - “The one thing I regret,” he said, - “Is that it cannot speak!” - - He thought he saw a Banker’s Clerk - Descending from the ’bus: - He looked again, and found it was - A Hippopotamus: - “If this should stay to dine,” he said, - “There won’t be much for us!” - -Edward Lear, contemporary of Lewis Carroll, is the only peer of the -great writer of nonsense. - -Lear’s nonsense is in different vein, but his verses are equally facile -and felicitous and his prose quite as delightfully extravagant. - -If Carroll’s imagination was more exquisitely fanciful, Lear’s had -a broader scope, and both writers are masters of that peculiar -combination of paradox and reasoning that makes for delightful surprise. - -Lear was the first to make popular the style of stanza since called -a Limerick, though the derivation of this name has never been -satisfactorily determined. - - There was an old man of Thermopylæ, - Who never did anything properly; - But they said: “If you choose - To boil eggs in your shoes, - You cannot remain in Thermopylæ.” - - There was an Old Man who said, “Hush! - I perceive a young bird in this bush!” - When they said, “Is it small?” - He replied, “Not at all; - It is four times as big as the bush!” - - There was an Old Man who supposed - That the street door was partially closed; - But some very large Rats - Ate his coats and his hats, - While that futile Old Gentleman dozed. - - There was an Old Man of Leghorn, - The smallest that ever was born; - But quickly snapt up he - Was once by a Puppy, - Who devoured that Old Man of Leghorn. - - There was an Old Man of Kamschatka - Who possessed a remarkably fat Cur; - His gait and his waddle - Were held as a model - To all the fat dogs in Kamschatka. - - - _THE TWO OLD BACHELORS_ - - Two old Bachelors were living in one house - One caught a Muffin, the other caught a Mouse. - Said he who caught the Muffin to him who caught the Mouse, - “This happens just in time, for we’ve nothing in the house, - Save a tiny slice of lemon and a teaspoonful of honey, - And what to do for dinner,--since we haven’t any money? - And what can we expect if we haven’t any dinner - But to lose our teeth and eyelashes and keep on growing thinner?” - - Said he who caught the Mouse to him who caught the Muffin, - “We might cook this little Mouse if we only had some Stuffin’! - If we had but Sage and Onions we could do extremely well, - But how to get that Stuffin’ it is difficult to tell!” - - And then these two old Bachelors ran quickly to the town - And asked for Sage and Onions as they wandered up and down; - They borrowed two large Onions, but no Sage was to be found - In the Shops or in the Market or in all the Gardens round. - - But some one said, “A hill there is, a little to the north, - And to its purpledicular top a narrow way leads forth; - And there among the rugged rocks abides an ancient Sage,-- - An earnest Man, who reads all day a most perplexing page. - Climb up and seize him by the toes,--all studious as he sits,-- - And pull him down, and chop him into endless little bits! - Then mix him with your Onion (cut up likewise into scraps), - And your Stuffin’ will be ready, and very good--perhaps.” - - And then these two old Bachelors, without loss of time, - The nearly purpledicular crags at once began to climb; - And at the top among the rocks, all seated in a nook, - They saw that Sage a-reading of a most enormous book. - “You earnest Sage!” aloud they cried, “your book you’ve read enough - in! - We wish to chop you into bits and mix you into Stuffin’!” - - But that old Sage looked calmly up, and with his awful book - At those two Bachelors’ bald heads a certain aim he took; - And over crag and precipice they rolled promiscuous down,-- - At once they rolled, and never stopped in lane or field or town; - And when they reached their house, they found (besides their want - of Stuffin’) - The Mouse had fled--and previously had eaten up the Muffin. - - They left their home in silence by the once convivial door; - And from that hour those Bachelors were never heard of more. - -Algernon Charles Swinburne, whose marvelous mastery of the lyric is -well known, is not so noted as a humorist. - -Yet his parodies are among the finest in the language. His day was the -Golden Age of Parody, and the writers who achieved it were true poets -and true wits. - -This parody of Tennyson is alike a perfect mimicry of sound and sense. - - - _THE HIGHER PANTHEISM IN A NUTSHELL_ - - One, who is not, we see: but one, whom we see not, is; - Surely this is not that: but that is assuredly this. - - What, and wherefore, and whence? for under is over and under; - If thunder could be without lightning, lightning could be without - thunder. - - Doubt is faith in the main: but faith, on the whole, is doubt; - We cannot believe by proof: but could we believe without? - - Why, and whither, and how? for barley and rye are not clover; - Neither are straight lines curves: yet over is under and over. - - Two and two may be four: but four and four are not eight; - Fate and God may be twain: but God is the same thing as fate. - - Ask a man what he thinks, and get from a man what he feels; - God, once caught in the fact, shews you a fair pair of heels. - - Body and spirit are twins: God only knows which is which; - The soul squats down in the flesh, like a tinker drunk in a ditch. - - One and two are not one: but one and nothing is two; - Truth can hardly be false, if falsehood cannot be true. - - Once the mastodon was: pterodactyls were common as cocks; - Then the mammoth was God: now is He a prize ox. - - Parallels all things are: yet many of these are askew. - You are certainly I: but certainly I am not you. - - Springs the rock from the plain, shoots the stream from the rock; - Cocks exist for the hen: but hens exist for the cock. - - God, whom we see not, is: and God, who is not, we see; - Fiddle, we know, is diddle: and diddle, we take it, is dee. - -Swinburne’s parody of his own work is beautifully done in - - - _NEPHELIDIA_ - - From the depth of the dreamy decline of the dawn through a notable - nimbus of nebulous moonshine, - Pallid and pink as the palm of the flag-flower that flickers with - fear of the flies as they float, - Are they looks of our lovers that lustrously lean from a marvel of - mystic miraculous moonshine, - These that we feel in the blood of our blushes that thicken and - threaten with throbs through the throat? - Thicken and thrill as a theatre thronged at appeal of an actor’s - appalled agitation, - Fainter with fear of the fires of the future than pale with the - promise of pride in the past; - Flushed with the famishing fulness of fever that reddens with - radiance of rathe recreation, - Gaunt as the ghastliest of glimpses that gleam through the gloom - of the gloaming when ghosts go aghast? - Nay, for the nick of the tick of the time is a tremulous touch on - the temples of terror, - Strained as the sinews yet strenuous with strife of the dead who - is dumb as the dust-heaps of death; - Surely no soul is it, sweet as the spasm of erotic emotional - exquisite error, - Bathed in the balms of beatified bliss, beatific itself by - beatitude’s breath. - Surely no spirit or sense of a soul that was soft to the spirit and - soul of our senses - Sweetens the stress of surprising suspicion that sobs in the - semblance and sound of a sigh; - Only this oracle opens Olympian, in mystical moods and triangular - tenses,-- - “Life is the lust of a lamp for the light that is dark till the - dawn of the day when we die.” - Mild is the mirk and monotonous music of memory, melodiously mute - as it may be, - While the hope in the heart of a hero is bruised by the breach of - men’s rapiers, resigned to the rod; - Made meek as a mother whose bosom-beats bound with the - bliss-bringing bulk of a balm-breathing baby, - As they grope through the grave-yard of creeds, under skies - growing green at a groan for the grimness of God. - Blank is the book of his bounty beholden of old, and its binding is - blacker than bluer: - Out of blue into black is the scheme of the skies, and their dews - are the wine of the bloodshed of things: - Till the darkling desire of delight shall be free as a fawn that is - freed from the fangs that pursue her, - Till the heart-beats of hell shall be hushed by a hymn from the - hunt that has harried the kennel of kings. - -Henry Austin Dobson, better known without his first name, was a -skillful writer of beautiful _vers de société_. - -He also wrote much in the French Forms and seemed to find them in no -way trammeling. - - - _ON A FAN_ - - THAT BELONGED TO THE MARQUISE DE POMPADOUR - - (Ballade) - - Chicken-skin, delicate, white, - Painted by Carlo Vanloo, - Loves in a riot of light, - Roses and vaporous blue; - Hark to the dainty _frou-frou_ - Picture above, if you can, - Eyes that could melt as the dew,-- - This was the Pompadour’s fan! - - See how they rise at the sight, - Thronging the _Œil de Bœuf_ through, - Courtiers as butterflies bright, - Beauties that Fragonard drew, - _Talon-rouge_, falaba, queue, - Cardinal, duke,--to a man, - Eager to sigh or to sue,-- - This was the Pompadour’s fan! - - Ah, but things more than polite - Hung on this toy, _voyez-vous_ - Matters of state and of might, - Things that great ministers do; - Things that, maybe, overthrew - Those in whose brains they began;-- - Here was the sign and the cue,-- - This was the Pompadour’s fan! - - - Envoy - - Where are the secrets it knew? - Weavings of plot and of plan? - --But where is the Pompadour, too? - _This_ was the Pompadour’s _fan_! - - - _THE ROUNDEAU_ - - You bid me try, Blue-eyes, to write - A Rondeau. What! forthwith?--tonight? - Reflect? Some skill I have, ’tis true; - But thirteen lines!--and rhymed on two!-- - “Refrain,” as well. Ah, hapless plight! - Still there are five lines--ranged aright. - These Gallic bonds, I feared, would fright - My easy Muse. They did, till you-- - You bid me try! - - That makes them eight.--The port’s in sight; - ’Tis all because your eyes are bright! - Now just a pair to end in “oo,”-- - When maids command, what can’t we do? - Behold! The Rondeau--tasteful, light-- - You bid me try! - -Andrew Lang was perhaps the most versatile writer among English bookmen -of his day. Verse or prose, religious research or translations, to each -and all he gives his individual touch,--light, airy, humorous. - -Fairies, Dreams and Ghosts are all his happy hunting ground, and he was -one of the first to experiment with the old French Forms, in which he -gave his own delightful fancy free play, while adhering strictly to the -inflexible rules. - - - _BALLAD OF THE PRIMITIVE JEST_ - - I am an ancient Jest! - Paleolithic man - In his arboreal nest - The sparks of fun would fan; - My outline did he plan, - And laughed like one possessed, - ’Twas thus my course began, - I am a Merry Jest. - - I am an early Jest! - Man delved and built and span; - Then wandered South and West - The peoples Aryan, - _I_ journeyed in their van; - The Semites, too, confessed,-- - From Beersheba to Dan,-- - I am a Merry Jest. - - I am an ancient Jest, - Through all the human clan, - Red, black, white, free, oppressed, - Hilarious I ran! - I’m found in Lucian, - In Poggio, and the rest, - I’m dear to Moll and Nan! - I am a Merry Jest! - - Prince, you may storm and ban-- - Joe Millers _are_ a pest, - Suppress me if you can! - I am a Merry Jest! - - - _BALLADE OF LITERARY FAME_ - - Oh, where are the endless Romances - Our grandmothers used to adore? - The knights with their helms and their lances, - Their shields and the favours they wore? - And the monks with their magical lore? - They have passed to Oblivion and _Nox_, - They have fled to the shadowy shore,-- - They are all in the Fourpenny Box! - - And where the poetical fancies - Our fathers rejoiced in, of yore? - The lyric’s melodious expanses, - The epics in cantos a score, - They have been and are not: no more - Shall the shepherds drive silvery flocks, - Nor the ladies their languors deplore,-- - They are all in the Fourpenny Box! - - And the music! The songs and the dances? - The tunes that time may not restore? - And the tomes where Divinity prances? - And the pamphlets where heretics roar? - They have ceased to be even a bore,-- - The Divine, and the Sceptic who mocks,-- - They are “cropped,” they are “foxed” to the core, - They are all in the Fourpenny Box! - - - Envoy - - Suns beat on them; tempests downpour, - On the chest without cover or locks, - Where they lie by the Bookseller’s door,-- - They are _all_ in the Fourpenny Box! - -William Schwenck Gilbert began as a youth his humorous contributions to -magazines, which included the immortal _Bab Ballads_. - -Ten years later he joined forces with the composer, Arthur Sullivan, -and the result of this collaboration was the well known series of -operas of which _Trial By Jury_ was the first. - -Gilbert is second to none in humorous paradoxical thought and sprightly -and clever versification. His themes, subtle and fantastic, are worked -out with a serious absurdity as truly witty as it is charming. - - - _THE MIGHTY MUST_ - - Come mighty Must! - Inevitable Shall! - In thee I trust. - Time weaves my coronal! - Go mocking Is! - Go disappointing Was! - That I am this - Ye are the cursed cause! - Yet humble second shall be first, - I ween; - And dead and buried be the curst - Has Been! - - Of weak Might Be! - Oh, May, Might, Could, Would, Should! - How powerless ye - For evil or for good! - In every sense - Your moods I cheerless call, - Whate’er your tense - Ye are imperfect, all! - Ye have deceived the trust I’ve shown - In ye! - Away! The Mighty Must alone - Shall be! - - - _TO THE TERRESTRIAL GLOBE_ - - By a Miserable Wretch. - - Roll on, thou ball, roll on! - Through pathless realms of Space - Roll on! - What though I’m in a sorry case? - What though I cannot meet my bills? - What though I suffer toothache’s ills? - What though I swallow countless pills? - Never _you_ mind! - Roll on! - - Roll on, thou ball, roll on! - Through seas of inky air, - Roll on! - It’s true I have no shirts to wear; - It’s true my butcher’s bill is due; - It’s true my prospects all look blue-- - But don’t let that unsettle you: - Never _you_ mind! - Roll on! - (_It rolls on_). - - - _GENTLE ALICE BROWN_ - - It was a robber’s daughter, and her name was Alice Brown, - Her father was the terror of a small Italian town; - Her mother was a foolish, weak, but amiable old thing; - But it isn’t of her parents that I’m going for to sing. - - As Alice was a-sitting at her window-sill one day - A beautiful young gentleman he chanced to pass that way; - She cast her eyes upon him, and he looked so good and true, - That she thought, “I could be happy with a gentleman like you!” - - And every morning passed her house that cream of gentlemen; - She knew she might expect him at a quarter unto ten, - A sorter in the Custom House it was his daily road - (The Custom House was fifteen minutes’ walk from her abode). - - But Alice was a pious girl and knew it was not wise - To look at strange young sorters with expressive purple eyes, - So she sought the village priest to whom her family confessed-- - The priest by whom their little sins were carefully assessed. - - “Oh holy father,” Alice said, “’twould grieve you, would it not? - To discover that I was a most disreputable lot! - Of all unhappy sinners I’m the most unhappy one!” - The padre said “Whatever have you been and gone and done?” - - “I have helped mamma to steal a little kiddy from its dad, - I’ve assisted dear papa in cutting up a little lad. - I’ve planned a little burglary and forged a little cheque, - And slain a little baby for the coral on its neck!” - - The worthy pastor heaved a sigh, and dropped a silent tear-- - And said “You mustn’t judge yourself too heavily, my dear-- - It’s wrong to murder babies, little corals for to fleece; - But sins like these one expiates at half-a-crown apiece. - - “Girls will be girls--you’re very young and flighty in your mind; - Old heads upon young shoulders we must not expect to find: - We mustn’t be too hard upon these little girlish tricks-- - Let’s see--five crimes at half a crown--exactly twelve-and six.” - - “Oh father,” little Alice cried, “your kindness makes me weep, - You do these little things for me so singularly cheap-- - Your thoughtful liberality I never can forget; - But, oh, there is another crime I haven’t mentioned yet! - - “A pleasant-looking gentleman, with pretty purple eyes,-- - I’ve noticed at my window, as I’ve sat a-catching flies; - He passes by it every day as certain as can be-- - I blush to say I’ve winked at him, and he has winked at me!” - - “For shame,” said Father Paul, “my erring daughter! On my word - This is the most distressing news that I have ever heard. - Why, naughty girl, your excellent papa has pledged your hand - To a promising young robber, the lieutenant of his band! - - “This dreadful piece of news will pain your worthy parents so! - They are the most remunerative customers I know; - For many, many years they’ve kept starvation from my doors, - I never knew so criminal a family as yours! - - “The common country folk in this insipid neighbourhood - Have nothing to confess, they’re so ridiculously good; - And if you marry anyone respectable at all, - Why, you’ll reform, and what will then become of Father Paul?” - - The worthy priest, he up and drew his cowl upon his crown, - And started off in haste to tell the news to Robber Brown; - To tell him how his daughter, who was now for marriage fit, - Had winked upon a sorter, who reciprocated it. - - Good Robber Brown he muffled up his anger pretty well, - He said, “I have a notion, and that notion I will tell; - I will nab this gay young sorter, terrify him into fits, - And get my gentle wife to chop him into little bits. - - “I’ve studied human nature, and I know a thing or two; - Though a girl may fondly love a living gent, as many do, - A feeling of disgust upon her senses there will fall - When she looks upon his body chopped particularly small.” - - He traced that gallant sorter to a still suburban square; - He watched his opportunity and seized him unaware; - He took a life preserver and he hit him on the head, - And Mrs. Brown dissected him before she went to bed. - - And pretty little Alice grew more settled in her mind, - She never more was guilty of a weakness of the kind, - Until at length good Robber Brown bestowed her pretty hand - On the promising young robber, the lieutenant of his band. - -Francis C. Burnand, writer of many comedies and burlesques, was a long -time editor of _Punch_ and wrote much of his best work for that -paper. - -One of his most delightful songs, so successfully sung by the Vokes -family is: - - - _TRUE TO POLL_ - - I’ll sing you a song, not very long, - But the story somewhat new - Of William Kidd, who, whatever he did, - To his Poll was always true. - He sailed away in a galliant ship - From the port of old Bris_tol_, - And the last words he uttered, - As his hankercher he fluttered, - Were, “My heart is true to Poll.” - - His heart was true to Poll, - His heart was true to Poll. - It’s no matter what you do - If your heart be only true: - And his heart _was_ true to Poll. - - ’Twas a wreck. Willi_am_, on shore he swam, - And looked about for an inn; - When a noble savage lady, of a colour rather shady, - Came up with a kind of grin: - “Oh, marry _me_, and a king you’ll be, - And in a palace loll; - Or we’ll eat you willy-nilly.” - So he gave his _hand_, did Billy, - But his _heart_ was true to Poll. - - Away a twelvemonth sped, and a happy life he led - As the King of the Kikeryboos; - His paint was red and yellar, and he used a big umbrella, - And he wore a pair of over-_shoes_! - He’d corals and knives, and twenty-six wives, - Whose beauties I cannot here extol; - One day they all revolted, - So he back to Bristol bolted, - For his _heart_ was true to Poll. - - His heart was true to Poll, - His heart was true to Poll. - It’s no matter what you do, - If your heart be only true: - And his _heart_ was true to Poll. - -William Ernest Henley, though better known for his serious work, waxed -humorous, especially when making excursions into the artificial verse -forms. - - - _VILLANELLE_ - - Now ain’t they utterly too-too - (She ses, my Missus mine, ses she) - Them flymy little bits of Blue. - - Joe, just you kool ’em--nice and skew - Upon our old meogginee, - Now ain’t they utterly too-too? - - They’re better than a pot’n’ a screw, - They’re equal to a Sunday spree, - Them flymy little bits of Blue! - - Suppose I put ’em up the flue, - And booze the profits, Joe? Not me. - Now ain’t they utterly too-too? - - I do the ’Igh Art fake, I do. - Joe, I’m consummate; and I _see_ - Them flymy little bits of Blue. - - Which, Joe, is why I ses to you-- - Æsthetic-like, and limp, and free-- - Now _ain’t_ they utterly too-too, - Them flymy little bits of Blue? - -Robert Louis Stevenson’s humor consists in an extravagance and -whimsicality of thought and expression and is usually subservient to a -greater intent. - -His delightful _Child’s Verses_ show quiet roguery and humorous -conceits. - - The lovely cow, all red and white, - I love with all my heart; - She gives me milk with all her might - To eat on apple tart. - - The world is so full of a number of things, - I’m sure we should all be as happy as kings. - -This original style of Juvenile verse, often imitated, has rarely been -successful in the hands of lesser artists. - -James Matthew Barrie, one of the finest English humorists, may not be -quoted successfully because his work is only found in sustained stories -or plays, and few brief extracts will bear separation from their -contexts. - -A short passage from _A Window in Thrums_ will hint at the -delightfulness of Barrie’s humor. - - - _A HUMOURIST ON HIS CALLING_ - -Tammas put his foot on the pail. - -“I tak no credit,” he said modestly, on the evening, I remember, of -Willie Pyatt’s funeral, “in bein’ able to speak wi’ a sort o’ faceelity -on topics ’at I’ve made my ain.” - -“Aye,” said T’nowhead, “but it’s no faceelity o’ speakin’ ’at taks me. -There’s Davit Lunan ’at can speak like as if he had learned if aff a -paper, an’ yet I canna thole ’im.” - -“Davit,” said Hendry, “doesna speak in a wy ’at a body can follow ’im. -He doesna gae even on. Jess says he’s juist like a man aye at the -cross-roads, an’ no sure o’ his way. But the stock has words, an’ no -ilka body has that.” - -“If I was bidden to put Tammas’s gift in a word,” said T’nowhead, “I -would say ’at he had a wy. That’s what I would say.” - -“Weel, I suppose I have,” Tammas admitted, “but, wy or no wy, I couldna -put a point on my words if it wasna for my sense o’ humour. Lads, -humour’s what gies the nip to speakin’.” - -“It’s what maks ye a sarcesticist, Tammas,” said Hendry; “but what I -wonder at is yer sayin’ the humorous things sae aisy-like. Some says ye -mak them up aforehand, but I ken that’s no true.” - -“No, only is’t no true,” said Tammas, “but it couldna be true. Them ’at -says sic things, an’ weel I ken you’re meanin’ Davit Lunan, hasna nae -idea o’ what humour is. It’s a thing ’at spouts oot o’ its ain accord. -Some o’ the maist humorous things I’ve ever said cam oot, as a body may -say, by themselves.” - -“I suppose that’s the case,” said T’nowhead; “an’ yet it maun be you -’at brings them up?” - -“There’s no nae doubt about its bein’ the case,” said Tammas; “for -I’ve watched mysel’ often. There was a vera guid instance occurred -sune after I married Easie. The earl’s son met me one day, aboot that -time, i’ the Tenements, an’ he didna ken ’at Chirsty was deid, an’ I’d -married again. ‘Well, Haggart,’ he says, in his frank wy, ‘and how is -your wife?’ ‘She’s vera weel, sir,’ I maks answer, ‘but she’s no the -ane you mean.’” - -“Na, he meant Chirsty,” said Hendry. - -“Is that a’ the story?” asked T’nowhead - -Tammas had been looking at us queerly. - -“There’s no nane o’ ye lauchin’,” he said, “but I can assure ye the -earl’s son gaed east the toon lauchin’ like onything.” - -“But what was’t he lauched at?” - -“Ou,” said Tammas, “a humourist doesna tell whaur the humour comes in.” - -“No, but when you said that, did ye mean it to be humourous?” - -“Am no sayin’ I did, but as I’ve been tellin’ ye humour spouts oot by -itsel’.” - -“Aye, but do ye ken noo what the earl’s son gaed awa lauchin’ at?” - -Tammas hesitated. - -“I dinna exactly see’t,” he confessed, “but that’s no an oncommon -thing. A humourist would often no ken ’at he was are if it wasna by the -wy he maks other fowk lauch. A body canna be expeckit baith to mak the -joke an’ to see’t. Na, that would be doin’ twa fowks’ wark.” - -“Weel, that’s reasonable enough, but I’ve often seen ye lauchin’,” said -Hendry, “lang afore other fowk lauched.” - -“Nae doubt,” Tammas explained, “an’ that’s because humour has twa -sides, juist like a penny piece. When I say a humorous thing mysel’ I’m -dependent on other fowk to tak note o’ the humour o’t, bein’ mysel’ -taen up wi’ the makkin’ o’t. Aye, but there’s things I see an’ hear at’ -maks me laucht, an’ that’s the other side o’ humour.” - -“I never heard it put sae plain afore,” said T’nowhead, “an’, sal, am -no nane sure but what am a humourist too.” - -“Na, na, no you, T’nowhead,” said Tammas hotly. - - * * * * * - -Sir Owen Seaman, present editor of _Punch_, is also one of the -finest parodists of all time. His humorous verse of all varieties is in -the first rank. - - - _A NOCTURNE AT DANIELI’S_ - - (Suggested by Browning’s _A Toccata of Galuppi’s_.) - - _Caro mio, Pulcinello_, kindly hear my wail of woe - Lifted from a noble structure--late Palazzo Dandolo. - - This is Venice, you will gather, which is full of precious “stones,” - Tintorettos, picture-postcards, and remains of Doges’ bones. - - Not of these am I complaining; they are mostly seen by day, - And they only try your patience in an inoffensive way. - - But at night, when over Lido rises Dian (that’s the moon), - And the vicious _vaporetti_ cease to vex the still lagoon; - - When the final _trovatore_, singing something old and cheap, - Hurls his _tremolo crescendo_ full against my beauty sleep; - - When I hear the Riva’s loungers in debate beneath my bower - Summing up (about 1.30) certain questions of the hour; - - Then across my nervous system falls the shrill mosquito’s boom, - And it’s “O, to be in England,” where the may is on the bloom. - - I admit the power of Music to inflate the savage breast-- - There are songs devoid of language which are quite among the best; - - But the present orchestration, with its poignant oboe part, - Is, in my obscure opinion, barely fit to rank as Art. - - Will it solace me to-morrow, being hit in either eye, - To be told that this is nothing to the season in July? - - Shall I go for help to Ruskin? Would it ease my pimply brow - If I found the doges suffered much as I am suffering now? - - If identical probosces pinked the lovers who were bored - By the sentimental tinkling of Galuppi’s clavichord? - - That’s from Browning (Robert Browning)--I have left his works at - home, - And the poem I allude to isn’t in the Tauchnitz tome; - - But, if memory serves me rightly, he was very much concerned - At the thought that in the sequel Venice reaped what Venice earned. - - Was he thinking of mosquitoes? Did he mean _their_ poisoned crop? - Was it through ammonia tincture that “the kissing had to stop”? - - As for later loves--for Venice never quite mislaid her spell-- - Madame Sand and dear De Musset occupied my own hotel! - - On the very floor below me, I have heard the patron say, - They were put in No. 13 (No. 36, to-day). - - But they parted--“_elle et lui_” did--and it now occurs to me - That mosquitoes came between them in this “kingdom by the sea.” - - Poor dead lovers, and such brains, too! What am I that I should - swear - When the creatures munch my forehead, taking more than I can spare? - - Should I live to meet the morning, should the climate readjust - Any reparable fragments left upon my outer crust, - - Why, at least I still am extant, and a dog that sees the sun - Has the pull of Danieli’s den of “lions,” dead and done. - - Courage! I will keep my vigil on the balcony till day - Like a knight in full pyjamas who would rather run away. - - Courage! let me ope the casement, let the shutters be withdrawn; - Let scirocco, breathing on me, check a tendency to yawn; - There’s the sea! and--_Ecco l’alba!_ Ha! (in other words) the Dawn! - - - _TO JULIA UNDER LOCK AND KEY_ - -(A form of betrothal gift in America is an anklet secured by a padlock, -of which the other party keeps the key.) - - When like a bud my Julia blows - In lattice-work of silken hose, - Pleasant I deem it is to note - How, ’neath the nimble petticoat, - Above her fairy shoe is set - The circumvolving zonulet. - And soothly for the lover’s ear - A perfect bliss it is to hear - About her limb so lithe and lank - My Julia’s ankle-bangle clank. - Not rudely tight, for ’twere a sin - To corrugate her dainty skin; - Nor yet so large that it might fare - Over her foot at unaware; - But fashioned nicely with a view - To let her airy stocking through: - So as, when Julia goes to bed, - Of all her gear disburdenèd, - This ring at least she shall not doff - Because she cannot take it off. - And since thereof I hold the key, - She may not taste of liberty, - Not though she suffer from the gout, - Unless I choose to let her out. - - - _AT THE SIGN OF THE COCK_ - - (FRENCH STYLE, 1898) - - (_Being an Ode in further “Contribution to the Song of French - History,” dedicated, without malice or permission, to Mr. George - Meredith_) - - - I - - Rooster her sign, - Rooster her pugnant note, she struts - Evocative, amazon spurs aprick at heel; - Nid-nod the authentic stump - Of the once ensanguined comb vermeil as wine; - With conspuent doodle-doo - Hails breach o’ the hectic dawn of yon New Year, - Last issue up to date - Of quiverful Fate - Evolved spontaneous; hails with tonant trump - The spiriting prime o’ the clashed carillon-peal; - Ruffling her caudal plumes derisive of scuts; - Inconscient how she stalks an immarcessibly absurd - Bird. - - - II - - Mark where her Equatorial Pioneer - Delirant on the tramp goes littoralwise. - His Flag at furl, portmanteaued; drains to the dregs - The penultimate brandy-bottle, coal-on-the-head-piece gift - Of who avenged the Old Sea-Rover’s smirch. - Marchant he treads the all-along of inarable drift - On dubiously connivent legs, - The facile prey of predatory flies; - Panting for further; sworn to lurch - Empirical on to the Menelik-buffered, enhavened blue, - Rhyming--see Cantique I.--with doodle-doo. - - - III - - Infuriate she kicked against Imperial fact; - Vulnant she felt - What pin-stab should have stained Another’s pelt - Puncture her own Colonial lung-balloon, - Volant to nigh meridian. Whence rebuffed, - The perjured Scythian she lacked - At need’s pinch, sick with spleen of the rudely cuffed - Below her breath she cursed; she cursed the hour - When on her spring for him the young Tyrannical broke - Amid the unhallowed wedlock’s vodka-shower, - She passionate, he dispassionate; tricked - Her wits to eye-blind; borrowed the ready as for dower; - Till from the trance of that Hymettus-moon - She woke, - A nuptial-knotted derelict; - Pensioned with Rescripts other aid declined - By the plumped leech saturate urging Peace - In guise of heavy-armed Gospeller to men, - Tyrannical unto fraternal equal liberal, her. Not she; - Not till Alsace her consanguineous find - What red deteutonising artillery - Shall shatter her beer-reek alien police - The just-now pluripollent; not till then. - - - IV - - More pungent yet the esoteric pain - Squeezing her pliable vitals nourishes feud - Insanely grumous, grumously insane. - For lo! - Past common balmly on the Bordereau, - Churns she the skim o’ the gutter’s crust - With Anti-Judaic various carmagnole, - Whooped praise of the Anti-just; - Her boulevard brood - Gyratory in convolvements militant-mad; - Theatrical of faith in the Belliform, - Her Og, - Her Monstrous. Fled what force she had - To buckle the jaw-gape, wide agog - For the Preconcerted One, - The Anticipated, ripe to clinch the whole; - Queen-bee to hive the hither and thither volant swarm. - Bides she his coming; adumbrates the new - Expurgatorial Divine, - Her final effulgent Avatar, - Postured outside a trampling mastodon - Black as her Baker’s charger; towering; visibly gorged - With blood of traitors. Knee-grip stiff, - Spine straightened, on he rides; - Embossed the Patriot’s brow with hieroglyph - Of martial _dossiers_, nothing forged - About him save his armour. So she bides - Voicing his advent indeterminably far, - Rooster her sign, - Rooster her conspuent doodle-doo. - - - V - - Behold her, pranked with spurs for bloody sport, - How she acclaims, - A crapulous chanticleer, - Breach of the hectic dawn of yon New Year. - Not yet her fill of rumours sucked; - Inebriate of honour; blushfully wroth; - Tireless to play her old primeval games; - Her plumage preened the yet unplucked - Like sails of a galleon, rudder hard amort - With crepitant mast - Fronting the hazard to dare of a dual blast - The intern and the extern, blizzards both. - -Anthony C. Deane is also among the best of the modern parodists. - - - _HERE IS THE TALE_ - - (AFTER RUDYARD KIPLING) - - _Here is the tale--and you must make the most of it: - Here is the rhyme--ah, listen and attend: - Backwards--forwards--read it all and boast of it - If you are anything the wiser at the end!_ - - Now Jack looked up--it was time to sup, and the bucket was yet to - fill, - And Jack looked round for a space and frowned, then beckoned his - sister Jill, - And twice he pulled his sister’s hair, and thrice he smote her - side; - “Ha’ done, ha’ done with your impudent fun--ha’ done with your - games!” she cried; - “You have made mud-pies of a marvellous size--finger and face are - black, - You have trodden the Way of the Mire and Clay--now up and wash you, - Jack! - Or else, or ever we reach our home, there waiteth an angry dame-- - Well you know the weight of her blow--the supperless open shame! - Wash, if you will, on yonder hill--wash, if you will, at the - spring,-- - Or keep your dirt, to your certain hurt, and an imminent - walloping!” - - “You must wash--you must scrub--you must scrape!” growled Jack, - “you must traffic with cans and pails, - Nor keep the spoil of the good brown soil in the rim of your - finger-nails! - The morning path you must tread to your bath--you must wash ere the - night descends, - And all for the cause of conventional laws and the soapmakers’ - dividends! - But if ’tis sooth that our meal in truth depends on our washing, - Jill, - By the sacred right of our appetite--haste--haste to the top of the - hill!” - - They have trodden the Way of the Mire and Clay, they have toiled - and travelled far, - They have climbed to the brow of the hill-top now, where the - bubbling fountains are, - They have taken the bucket and filled it up--yea, filled it up to - the brim; - But Jack he sneered at his sister Jill, and Jill she jeered at him: - “What, blown already!” Jack cried out (and his was a biting mirth!) - “You boast indeed of your wonderful speed--but what is the boasting - worth? - Now, if you can run as the antelope runs and if you can turn like a - hare, - Come, race me, Jill, to the foot of the hill--and prove your - boasting fair!” - “Race? What is a race” (and a mocking face had Jill as she spake - the word) - “Unless for a prize the runner tries? The truth indeed ye heard, - For I can run as the antelope runs, and I can turn like a hare:-- - The first one down wins half-a-crown--and I will race you there!” - “Yea, if for the lesson that you will learn (the lesson of humbled - pride) - The price you fix at two-and-six, it shall not be denied; - Come, take your stand at my right hand, for here is the mark we - toe: - Now, are you ready, and are you steady? Gird up your petticoats! - Go!” - - And Jill she ran like a winging bolt, a bolt from the bow released, - But Jack like a stream of the lightning gleam, with its pathway - duly greased; - He ran down hill in front of Jill like a summer-lightning flash-- - Till he suddenly tripped on a stone, or slipped, and fell to the - earth with a crash. - Then straight did rise on his wondering eyes the constellations - fair, - Arcturus and the Pleiades, the Greater and Lesser Bear, - The swirling rain of a comet’s train he saw, as he swiftly fell-- - And Jill came tumbling after him with a loud triumphant yell: - “You have won, you have won, the race is done! And as for the wager - laid-- - You have fallen down with a broken crown--the half-crown debt is - paid!” - - They have taken Jack to the room at the back where the family - medicines are, - And he lies in bed with a broken head in a halo of vinegar; - While, in that Jill had laughed her fill as her brother fell to - earth, - She had felt the sting of a walloping--she hath paid the price of - her mirth! - - _Here is the tale--and now you have the whole of it, - Here is the story, well and wisely-planned, - Beauty--Duty--these make up the soul of it-- - But, ah, my little readers, will you mark and understand?_ - -Arthur Thomas Quiller-Couch, writing often over the pseudonym of Q, is -most versatile and talented. He, too, loved to dally with the muse of -Imitation. - - - _DE TEA FABULA_ - - _Plain Language from Truthful James_ - - Do I sleep? Do I dream? - Am I hoaxed by a scout? - Are things what they seem, - Or is Sophists about? - Is our το τι ηυ ειναι a failure, or is Robert Browning played out? - - Which expressions like these - May be fairly applied - By a party who sees - A Society skied - Upon tea that the Warden of Keble had biled with legitimate pride. - - ’Twas November the third, - And I says to Bill Nye, - “Which it’s true what I’ve heard: - If you’re, so to speak, fly, - There’s a chance of some tea and cheap culture, the sort recommended - as High.” - - Which I mentioned its name, - And he ups and remarks: - “If dress-coats is the game - And pow-wow in the Parks, - Then I’m nuts on Sordello and Hohenstiel-Schwangau and similar - Snarks.” - - Now the pride of Bill Nye - Cannot well be express’d; - For he wore a white tie - And a cut-away vest: - Says I, “Solomon’s lilies ain’t in it, and they was reputed well - dress’d.” - - But not far did we wend, - When we saw Pippa pass - On the arm of a friend - --Dr. Furnivall ’t was, - And he wore in his hat two half-tickets for London, return, - second-class. - - “Well,” I thought, “this is odd.” - But we came pretty quick - To a sort of a quad - That was all of red brick, - And I says to the porter,--“R. Browning: free passes; and kindly - look slick.” - - But says he, dripping tears - In his check handkerchief, - “That symposium’s career’s - Been regrettably brief, - For it went all its pile upon crumpets and busted on gunpowder - leaf!” - - Then we tucked up the sleeves - Of our shirts (that were biled), - Which the reader perceives - That our feelings were riled, - And we went for that man till his mother had doubted the traits of - her child. - - Which emotions like these - Must be freely indulged - By a party who sees - A Society bulged - On a reef the existence of which its prospectus had never divulged. - - But I ask,--Do I dream? - Has it gone up the spout? - Are things what they seem, - Or is Sophists about? - Is our τὸ τι ἦυ εἶναι a failure, or is Robert Browning played out? - -James Kenneth Stephen, like so many of the English minor poets, -expresses his humorous vein best in parody. - -Stephen’s light verse belongs mostly to his undergraduate days. - - - _A SONNET_ - - Two voices are there: one is of the deep; - It learns the storm-cloud’s thunderous melody, - Now roars, now murmurs with the changing sea, - Now bird-like pipes, now closes soft in sleep: - And one is of an old half-witted sheep - Which bleats articulate monotony. - And indicates that two and one are three, - That grass is green, lakes damp, and mountains steep: - And, Wordsworth, both are thine: at certain times - Forth from the heart of thy melodious rhymes, - The form and pressure of high thoughts will burst: - At other times--good Lord! I’d rather be - Quite unacquainted with the A B C - Than write such hopeless rubbish as thy worst. - - - _A THOUGHT_ - - If all the harm that women have done - Were put in a bundle and rolled into one, - Earth would not hold it, - The sky could not enfold it, - It could not be lighted nor warmed by the sun; - Such masses of evil - Would puzzle the devil, - And keep him in fuel while Time’s wheels run. - - But if all the harm that’s been done by men - Were doubled, and doubled, and doubled again, - And melted and fused into vapour, and then - Were squared and raised to the power of ten, - There wouldn’t be nearly enough, not near, - To keep a small girl for the tenth of a year. - - - _THE MILLENNIUM_ - - TO R. K. - - _As long I dwell on some stupendous - And tremendous (Heaven defend us!) - Monstr’-inform’-ingens-horrendous - Demoniaco-seraphic - Penman’s latest piece of graphic._ - ROBERT BROWNING. - - Will there never come a season - Which shall rid us from the curse - Of a prose which knows no reason - And an unmelodious verse: - When the world shall cease to wonder - At the genius of an Ass, - And a boy’s eccentric blunder - Shall not bring success to pass: - - When mankind shall be delivered - From the clash of magazines, - And the inkstand shall be shivered - Into countless smithereens: - When there stands a muzzled stripling, - Mute, beside a muzzled bore: - When the Rudyards cease from Kipling - And the Haggards Ride no more? - - - _SCHOOL_ - - If there is a vile, pernicious, - Wicked and degraded rule, - Tending to debase the vicious, - And corrupt the harmless fool; - If there is a hateful habit - Making man a senseless tool, - With the feelings of a rabbit - And the wisdom of a mule; - It’s the rule which inculcates, - It’s the habit which dictates - The wrong and sinful practice of going into school. - - If there’s anything improving - To an erring sinner’s state, - Which is useful in removing - All the ills of human fate; - If there’s any glorious custom - Which our faults can dissipate, - And can casually thrust ’em - Out of sight and make us great; - It’s the plan by which we shirk - Half our matu-ti-nal work, - The glorious institution of always being late. - -Barry Pain, journalist and author, following the trend of the hour, -produced this amusing set of parodies. - - - _THE POETS AT TEA_ - - - 1--(_Macaulay, who made it_) - - Pour, varlet, pour the water, - The water steaming hot! - A spoonful for each man of us, - Another for the pot! - We shall not drink from amber, - Nor Capuan slave shall mix - For us the snows of Athos - With port at thirty-six; - Whiter than snow the crystals, - Grown sweet ’neath tropic fires, - More rich the herbs of China’s field, - The pasture-lands more fragrance yield; - For ever let Britannia wield - The tea-pot of her sires! - - - 2--(_Tennyson, who took it hot_) - - I think that I am drawing to an end: - For on a sudden came a gasp for breath. - And stretching of the hands, and blinded eyes, - And a great darkness falling on my soul. - O Hallelujah!... Kindly pass the milk. - - - 3--(_Swinburne, who let it get cold_) - - As the sin that was sweet in the sinning - Is foul in the ending thereof, - As the heat of the summer’s beginning - Is past in the winter of love: - O purity, painful and pleading! - O coldness, ineffably gray! - Oh, hear us, our handmaid unheeding, - And take it away! - - - 4--(_Cowper, who thoroughly enjoyed it_) - - The cosy fire is bright and gay, - The merry kettle boils away - And hums a cheerful song. - I sing the saucer and the cup; - Pray, Mary, fill the tea-pot up, - And do not make it strong. - - - 5--(_Browning, who treated it allegorically_) - - Tut! Bah! We take as another case-- - Pass the bills on the pills on the window-sill; notice the capsule - (A sick man’s fancy, no doubt, but I place - Reliance on trade-marks, Sir)--so perhaps you’ll - Excuse the digression--this cup which I hold - Light-poised--Bah, it’s spilt in the bed!--well, let’s on go-- - Hold Bohea and sugar, Sir; if you were told - The sugar was salt, would the Bohea be Congo? - - - 6--(_Wordsworth, who gave it away_) - - “Come, little cottage girl, you seem - To want my cup of tea; - And will you take a little cream? - Now tell the truth to me.” - - She had a rustic, woodland grin, - Her cheek was soft as silk, - And she replied, “Sir, please put in - A little drop of milk.” - - “Why, what put milk into your head? - ’Tis cream my cows supply”; - And five times to the child I said, - “Why, pig-head, tell me, why?” - - “You call me pig-head,” she replied; - “My proper name is Ruth. - I called that milk”--she blushed with pride-- - “You bade me speak the truth.” - - - 7--(_Poe, who got excited over it_) - - Here’s a mellow cup of tea, golden tea! - What a world of rapturous thought its fragrance brings to me! - Oh, from out the silver cells - How it wells! - How it smells! - Keeping tune, tune, tune - To the tintinnabulation of the spoon. - And the kettle on the fire - Boils its spout off with desire, - With a desperate desire - And a crystalline endeavour - Now, now to sit, or never, - On the top of the pale-faced moon, - But he always came home to tea, tea, tea, tea, tea, - Tea to the n--th. - - - 8--(_Rossetti, who took six cups of it_) - - The lilies lie in my lady’s bower - (O weary mother, drive the cows to roost), - They faintly droop for a little hour; - My lady’s head droops like a flower. - - She took the porcelain in her hand - (O weary mother, drive the cows to roost); - She poured; I drank at her command; - Drank deep, and now--you understand! - (O weary mother, drive the cows to roost.) - - - 9--(_Burns, who liked it adulterated_) - - Weel, gin ye speir, I’m no inclined, - Whusky or tay--to state my mind, - Fore ane or ither; - For, gin I tak the first, I’m fou, - And gin the next, I’m dull as you, - Mix a’ thegither. - - - 10--(_Walt Whitman, who didn’t stay more than a minute_) - - One cup for myself-hood, - Many for you. Allons, camerados, we will drink together, - O hand-in-hand! That tea-spoon, please, when you’ve done with it. - What butter-colour’d hair you’ve got. I don’t want to be personal. - All right, then, you needn’t. You’re a stale-cadaver. - Eighteen-pence if the bottles are returned. - Allons, from all bat-eyed formula. - -F. Anstey (pen name of J. B. Guthrie) wrote many novels and short skits -as well as verses. Like many of his contemporaries he is especially -happy in a parody vein. - - - _SELECT PASSAGES FROM A COMING POET_ - - - _Disenchantment_ - - My Love has sicklied unto Loath, - And foul seems all that fair I fancied-- - The lily’s sheen’s a leprous growth, - The very buttercups are rancid. - - - _Abasement_ - - With matted head a-dabble in the dust, - And eyes tear-sealèd in a saline crust - I lie all loathly in my rags and rust-- - Yet learn that strange delight may lurk in self-disgust. - - - _Stanza Written in Depression Near Dulwich_ - - The lark soars up in the air; - The toad sits tight in his hole; - And I would I were certain which of the pair - Were the truer type of my soul! - - - _To My Lady_ - - Twine, lanken fingers, lily-lithe, - Gleam, slanted eyes, all beryl-green, - Pout, blood-red lips that burst a-writhe, - Then--kiss me, Lady Grisoline! - - - _The Monster_ - - Uprears the monster now his slobberous head, - Its filamentous chaps her ankles brushing; - Her twice-five roseal toes are cramped in dread, - Each maidly instep mauven-pink is flushing. - - - _A Trumpet Blast_ - - Pale Patricians, sunk in self-indulgence, - Blink your blearèd eyes. Behold the Sun-- - Burst proclaim in purpurate effulgence, - Demos dawning, and the Darkness done! - -Hilaire Belloc, in addition to wiser matters, wrote most amusing -nonsense animal verses. - - - _THE PYTHON_ - - A python I should not advise,-- - It needs a doctor for its eyes, - And has the measles yearly. - - However, if you feel inclined - To get one (to improve your mind, - And not from fashion merely), - Allow no music near its cage; - And when it flies into a rage - Chastise it most severely. - - I had an Aunt in Yucatan - Who bought a Python from a man - And kept it for a pet. - She died because she never knew - These simple little rules and few;-- - The snake is living yet. - - - _THE BISON_ - - The Bison is vain, and (I write it with pain) - The Door-mat you see on his head - Is not, as some learned professors maintain, - The opulent growth of a genius’ brain; - But is sewn on with needle and thread. - - - _THE MICROBE_ - - The Microbe is so very small - You cannot make him out at all, - But many sanguine people hope - To see him through a microscope. - His jointed tongue that lies beneath - A hundred curious rows of teeth; - His seven tufted tails with lots - Of lovely pink and purple spots - On each of which a pattern stands, - Composed of forty separate bands; - His eyebrows of a tender green; - All these have never yet been seen-- - But Scientists, who ought to know, - Assure us that they must be so.... - Oh! let us never, never doubt - What nobody is sure about! - - - _THE FROG_ - - Be kind and tender to the Frog, - And do not call him names, - As “Slimy-Skin,” or “Polly-wog,” - Or likewise, “Uncle James,” - Or “Gape-a-grin,” or “Toad-gone-wrong,” - Or “Billy-Bandy-knees”; - The Frog is justly sensitive - To epithets like these. - - No animal will more repay, - A treatment kind and fair, - At least, so lonely people say - Who keep a frog (and, by the way, - They are extremely rare). - -Gilbert K. Chesterton, England’s great humorist of today, is cleverly -gay in his French Forms. - - - _A BALLADE OF SUICIDE_ - - The gallows in my garden, people say, - Is new and neat and adequately tall. - I tie the noose on in a knowing way - As one that knots his necktie for a ball; - But just as all the neighbours--on the wall-- - Are drawing a long breath to shout “Hurray!” - The strangest whim has seized me.... After all - I think I will not hang myself to-day. - - To-morrow is the time I get my pay-- - My uncle’s sword is hanging in the hall-- - I see a little cloud all pink and grey-- - Perhaps the rector’s mother will _not_ call-- - I fancy that I heard from Mr. Gall - That mushrooms could be cooked another way-- - I never read the works of Juvenal-- - I think I will not hang myself to-day. - - The world will have another washing day; - The decadents decay; the pedants pall; - And H. G. Wells has found that children play, - And Bernard Shaw discovered that they squall; - Rationalists are growing rational-- - And through thick woods one finds a stream astray, - So secret that the very sky seems small-- - I think I will not hang myself to-day. - - - _Envoi_ - - Prince, I can hear the trump of Germinal, - The tumbrils toiling up the terrible way; - Even today your royal head may fall-- - I think I will not hang myself to-day. - - - _A BALLADE OF AN ANTI-PURITAN_ - - They spoke of Progress spiring round, - Of Light and Mrs. Humphry Ward-- - It is not true to say I frowned, - Or ran about the room and roared; - I might have simply sat and snored-- - I rose politely in the club - And said, “I feel a little bored; - Will someone take me to a pub?” - - The new world’s wisest did surround - Me; and it pains me to record - I did not think their views profound, - Or their conclusions well assured; - The simple life I can’t afford, - Besides, I do not like the grub-- - I want a mash and sausage, “scored”-- - Will someone take me to a pub? - - I know where Men can still be found, - Anger and clamorous accord, - And virtues growing from the ground, - And fellowship of beer and board, - And song, that is a sturdy cord, - And hope, that is a hardy shrub, - And goodness, that is God’s last word-- - Will someone take me to a pub? - - - _Envoi_ - - Prince, Bayard would have smashed his sword - To see the sort of knights you dub-- - Is that the last of them--O Lord! - Will someone take me to a pub? - - - - - FRENCH HUMOR - -Voltaire, the assumed name of François Marie Arouet, was one of the -most famous of French writers. Plays, fiction, criticism and letters -are among his celebrated works. - -We can quote but a short bit from his novel of _Candide_: - - * * * * * - -The tutor Pangloss was the oracle of the house, and little Candide -listened to his lessons with all the ready faith natural to his age and -disposition. - -Pangloss used to teach the science of -metaphysico-theologo-cosmologo-noodleology. He demonstrated most -admirably that there is no effect without a cause, and that, in this -best of all possible worlds, the castle of my lord baron was the most -magnificent of castles, and my lady the best of all possible baronesses. - -“It has been proved,” said he, “that things cannot be otherwise than -they are; for, everything being made for a certain end, the end for -which everything is made is necessarily the best end. Observe how noses -were made to carry spectacles, and spectacles we have accordingly. Our -legs are clearly intended for shoes and stockings, so we have them. -Stone has been formed to be hewn and dressed for building castles, so -my lord has a very fine one, for it is meet that the greatest baron in -the province should have the best accommodation. Pigs were made to be -eaten, and we eat pork all the year round. Consequently those who have -asserted that all is well have said what is silly; they should have -said of everything that is, that it is the best that could possibly be.” - -Candide listened attentively, and innocently believed all that he -heard; for he thought Mlle. Cunégonde extremely beautiful, though he -never had the boldness to tell her so. He felt convinced that, next -to the happiness of being born Baron of Thundertentronckh, the second -degree of happiness was to be Mlle. Cunégonde, the third to see her -every day, and the fourth to hear Professor Pangloss, the greatest -philosopher in the province, and therefore in all the world. - -One day Mlle. Cunégonde, while taking a walk near the castle, in the -little wood which was called the park, saw through the bushes Dr. -Pangloss giving a lesson in experimental physics to her mother’s -chambermaid, a little brunette, very pretty and very willing to learn. -As Mlle. Cunégonde had a great taste for science, she watched with -breathless interest the repeated experiments that were carried on under -her eyes; she clearly perceived that the doctor had sufficient reason -for all he did; she saw the connection between causes and effects, and -returned home much agitated, though very thoughtful, and filled with -a yearning after scientific pursuits, for sharing in which she wished -that young Candide might find sufficient reason in her, and that she -might find the same in him. - -She met Candide as she was on her way back to the castle, and blushed; -the youth blushed likewise. She bade him good morning in a voice -that struggled for utterance; and Candide answered her without well -knowing what he was saying. Next day, as the company were leaving the -table after dinner, Cunégonde and Candide found themselves behind a -screen. Cunégonde let fall her handkerchief; Candide picked it up; she -innocently took hold of his hand, and the young man, as innocently, -kissed hers with an ardor, a tenderness, and a grace quite peculiar; -their lips met and their eyes sparkled. His lordship, the Baron of -Thundertentronckh, happened to pass by the screen, and, seeing that -particular instance of cause and effect, drove Candide out of the -castle with vigorous kicks. Cunégonde swooned away, but, as soon as she -recovered, my lady the baroness boxed her ears, and all was confusion -and consternation in that most magnificent and most charming of all -possible castles. - -Marc Antoine Desaugiers was a Parisian song writer and author of -vaudeville. - -His wit was cynical and his versification of a facile sort. - - - _THE ETERNAL YAWNER_ - - Ah! well-a-day, in all the earth - What can one do? - Where for amusement seek, or mirth? - Ah! well-a-day, in all the earth - What can one do - To cease from yawning here below? - - Of mortal man, what is the rôle? - To bustle, eat, and labor ply; - To plot, grow old, and then to die? - Not very lively this, or droll. - Ah! well-a-day, etc. - - No wonder in my mind begets - The sun, which poets call sublime; - Not this the first or second time - He rises, runs his race, and sets. - Ah! well-a-day, etc. - - To one dull course the seasons cling: - For full five thousand years we view - The summer following after spring, - And winter autumn’s close pursue. - Ah! well-a-day, etc. - - My watch (a friend of little use), - Whose hands their tedious circuit ply, - Tells me how slow the hours fly, - Not how I may my hours amuse. - Ah! well-a-day, etc. - - I half the world have traveled o’er, - To see if men diversion found; - But everywhere, on every ground, - I saw what I had seen before. - Ah! well-a-day, etc. - - In weariness which I abhorred, - Wishing to know how sped the great, - I dined with men of high estate, - And murmured as I left their board, - Ah! well-a-day, etc. - - Wishing to see if, when in love, - Life some unworn amusement has, - Love I attempted, but alas! - Love in all climes the same doth prove. - Ah! well-a-day, etc. - - Thus being, at this early age, - Of all things sick, both night and day, - In hopes to be more blithe and gay - I did in settled life engage. - Ah! well-a-day, etc. - - The street where now my life I led, - By neighborhood my steps brought on - To th’ Institute and Odéon, - Which every day I visited. - Ah! well-a-day, etc. - - By writing this (hope quickly gone), - To cheer my spirits I essayed; - But yawned the while this song was made, - And now I sing it, still I yawn: - Ah! well-a-day, etc. - -Pierre Jean de Béranger was one of France’s greatest lyric poets. -His versatility compassed songs of every sort from political to -bacchanalian, from amatory to philosophical. - - - _THE EDUCATION OF YOUNG LADIES_ - - What! this Monsieur de Fénélon - The girls pretend to school! - Of Mass and needlework he prates; - Mama, he’s but a fool. - Balls, concerts, and the piece just out, - Can teach us better far, no doubt: - Tra la la la, tra la la la, - Thus are young ladies taught, Mama! - - Let others mind their work; I’ll play, - Mama, the sweet duet, - That for my master’s voice and mine - Is from Armida set. - If Rénaud felt love’s burning flame, - I feel some shootings of the same: - Tra la la la, tra la la la, - Thus are young ladies taught, Mama! - - Let others keep accounts; I’ll dance, - Mama, an hour or two; - And from my master learn a step - Voluptuous and new. - At this long skirt my feet rebel; - To loop it up a bit were well. - Tra la la la, tra la la la, - Thus are young ladies taught, Mama! - - Let others o’er my sister watch; - Mama, I’d rather trace-- - I’ve wondrous talent--at the Louvre - The Apollo’s matchless grace: - Throughout his figure what a charm! - ’Tis naked, true--but that’s no harm - Tra la la la, tra la la la, - Thus are young ladies taught, Mama! - - Mama, I must be married soon, - Even fashion says no less; - Besides, there is an urgent cause, - I must, Mama, confess. - The world my situation sees-- - But there they laugh at scrapes like these. - Tra la la la, tra la la la, - Thus are young ladies taught, Mama! - - - _THE DEAD ALIVE_ - - When a bore gets hold of me, - Dull and overbearing, - Be so kind as pray for me, - I’m as dead as herring. - When the thrusts of pleasure glib - In my sides are sticking, - Poking fun at every rib, - I’m alive and kicking. - - When a snob his £ s. d. - Jingles in his breeches, - Be so kind as pray for me, - I’m as dead as ditches. - When a birthday’s champagne-corks - Round my ears are clicking, - Marking time with well-oil’d works, - I’m alive and kicking. - - Kings and their supremacy - Occupy the table, - Be so kind as pray for me, - I’m as dead as Abel. - Talk about the age of wine - (Bought by cash or ticking), - So you bring a sample fine, - I’m alive and kicking. - - When a trip to Muscovy - Tempts a conquest glutton, - Be so kind as pray for me, - I’m as dead as mutton. - Match me with a tippling foe, - See who first wants picking - From the dead man’s field below, - I’m alive and kicking. - - When great scribes to poetry - March, by notions big led, - Be so kind as pray for me, - I’m as dead as pig-lead. - When you start a careless song, - Not at grammar sticking, - Good to push the wine along. - I’m alive and kicking. - - When a bigot, half-hours three, - Spouts in canting gloom’s tones, - Be so kind as pray for me, - I’m as dead as tombstones. - When in cloisters underground, - Built of stone or bricking, - Orders of the screw you found, - I’m alive and kicking. - - Bourbons back in France we see - (Sure we don’t much need ’em), - Be so kind as pray for me, - I’m as dead as freedom. - Bess returns, and still our throats - Find us here a-slicking, - Sitting free without our coats-- - I’m alive and kicking. - - Forced to leave this company, - Bottle-wine and horn-ale, - Be so kind as pray for me, - I’m as dead as door-nail. - Pledging, though, a quick return, - Soon my anchor sticking - On the shore for which I yearn-- - I’m alive and kicking. - -A great name that ushers in the Nineteenth century is that of Honoré de -Balzac, chief of the realistic school of French novelists. His humor is -keen and is never lacking in his somewhat diversified writings. - -From his well known _Contes Drolatiques_ we give two stories. - - - _A SLIGHT MISUNDERSTANDING_ - -Louis XI had given the Abbey of Turpenay to a gentleman who, enjoying -the revenue, had called himself M. de Turpenay. It happened that the -king being at Plessis-les-Tours, the real abbot, who was a monk, came -and presented himself before the king, and presented a petition, -remonstrating with him that, canonically and monastically, he was -entitled to the abbey, and the usurping gentleman wronged him of his -right, and therefore he called upon his Majesty to have justice done -to him. Nodding his peruke, the king promised to render him contented. -This monk, importunate as are all hooded animals, came often at the end -of the king’s meals, who, bored with the holy water of the convent, -called friend Tristan and said to him, “Old fellow, there is here a -Turpenay who annoys me; rid the world of him for me.” - -Tristan, taking a frock for a monk, or a monk for a frock, came to -this gentleman, whom all the court called M. de Turpenay, and, having -accosted him, managed to lead him on one side, then, taking him by the -button-hole, gave him to understand that the king desired he should -die. He tried to resist, supplicating and supplicating to escape, -but in no way could he obtain a hearing. He was delicately strangled -between the head and shoulders, so that he expired; and, three hours -afterwards, Tristan told the king that he was despatched. It happened -five days later, which is the space in which souls come back again, -that the monk came into the room where the king was, and when he saw -him he was much astonished. Tristan was present; the king called him, -and whispered into his ear: - -“You have not done what I told you to.” - -“Saving your Majesty, I have done it. Turpenay is dead.” - -“Eh? I meant this monk.” - -“I understood the gentleman!” - -“What, it is done, then?” - -“Yes, your Majesty.” - -“Very well, then”--turning toward the monk--“come here, monk.” The monk -approached. The king said to him, “Kneel down.” The poor monk began to -shiver in his shoes. But the king said to him, “Thank God that He has -not willed that you should be executed as I had ordered. He who took -your estates has been instead. God has done you justice. Go and pray to -God for me, and don’t stir out of your convent.” - -This proves the good-heartedness of Louis XI. He might very well -have hanged the monk, the cause of the error. As for the aforesaid -gentleman, it was given out that he had died in the king’s service. - - - _INNOCENCE_ - -When Queen Catherine was princess royal, to make herself welcome to -the king, her father-in-law, who at that time was very ill indeed, she -presented him from time to time with Italian pictures, knowing that he -liked them much, being a friend of Sire Raphael d’Urbino and of the -Sires Primaticcio and Leonardo da Vinci, to whom he sent large sums -of money. She obtained from her family a precious picture, painted by -a Venetian named Titian (painter to the Emperor Charles, and in very -high favor), in which there were portraits of Adam and Eve at the -moment when God left them to wander about the terrestrial paradise. -They were painted full height, in the costume of the period, in which -it is difficult to make a mistake, because they were attired in their -ignorance, and caparisoned with the divine grace which enveloped -them--a difficult thing to execute on account of the color, but one -in which the said Sire Titian excelled. The picture was put into the -room of the poor king, who was then ill with the disease of which he -eventually died. It had a great success at the Court of France, where -every one wished to see it; but no one was able to until after the -king’s death, since at his desire it was allowed to remain in his room -as long as he lived. - -One day Catherine took with her to the king’s room her son Francis and -little Margy, who began to talk at random, as children will. Now here, -now there, these children had heard this picture of Adam and Eve spoken -about, and had tormented their mother to take them to see it. Since -the two little ones sometimes amused the old king, the princess royal -complied with their request. - -“You wished to see Adam and Eve, who were our first parents; there they -are,” said she. - -Then she left them in great astonishment before Titian’s picture, and -seated herself by the bedside of the king, who delighted to watch the -children. - -“Which of the two is Adam?” said Francis, nudging his sister Margaret’s -elbow. - -“You silly,” replied she, “they would have to be dressed for one to -know that!” - - * * * * * - -Louis Charles Alfred de Musset was a celebrated French poet and man of -letters. Though he died in early middle age, he left many volumes of -wise and witty writings. - - - _THE SUPPER-PARTY OF THE THREE CAVALIERS_ - -“Be silent, all of you!” cried Mimi. “I want to talk a little now. -Since the magnificent M. Marcel does not care for fables, I am going to -relate a true story, _et quorum pars magna fui_.” - -“Do you speak Latin?” asked Eugène. - -“As you perceive,” Mlle. Pinson answered. “I have inherited that -sentence from my uncle, who served under the great Napoleon, and who -always repeated it before he gave us an account of a battle. If you -don’t know the meaning of the words, I’ll teach you free of charge. -They mean, ‘I give you my word of honor.’ Well, then, you are to know -that one night last week I went with two of my friends, Blanchette and -Rougette, to the Odéon theater----” - -“Watch me cut the cake,” interrupted Marcel. - -“Cut ahead, but listen,” Mlle. Pinson continued. “As I was saying, -I went with Blanchette and Rougette to the Odéon to see a tragedy. -Rougette, as you know, has just lost her grandmother, and has inherited -four hundred francs. We had taken a box, opposite to which, in the -pit, sat three students. These young men liked our looks, and, on the -pretext that we were alone and unprotected, invited us to supper.” - -“Immediately?” asked Marcel. “That was gallant indeed. And you refused, -I suppose?” - -“By no means,” said Mimi. “We accepted the invitation, and in the -intermission, without waiting for the end of the play, we all went off -to Viot’s restaurant.” - -“With your cavaliers?” - -“With our cavaliers. The leader, of course, began by telling us that -he had nothing, but such little obstacles did not disconcert us. -We ordered everything we wanted. Rougette took pen and paper, and -ordered a veritable marriage-feast: shrimps, an omelet with sugar, -fritters, mussels, eggs with whipped cream--in fact, all the delicacies -imaginable. To tell the truth, our young gentlemen pulled wry -faces----” - -“I have no doubt of it!” said Marcel. - -“We didn’t care. When everything was brought in we began to act the -part of great ladies. We approved of nothing, but found everything -disgusting. Hardly was any dish brought in but we sent it out again. -‘Waiter, take this away; it’s intolerable; where did you get the -horrible stuff?’ Our unknown gentlemen wanted to eat, but found it -impossible. In a word, we supped as Sancho dined, and in our vigor -nearly broke several dishes.” - -“Nice conduct! And who was to pay for it all?” - -“That is precisely the question that our three unknown gentlemen -asked one another. To judge by what we overheard of their whispered -conversation, one of them owned six francs, the second a good deal -less, and the third had only his watch, which he generously pulled -out of his pocket. So the three unfortunates went up to the cashier, -intending to gain a delay of some sort. What answer do you suppose they -received?” - -“I imagine that you would be kept there, and your gentlemen sent to -jail.” - -“You are wrong,” said Mlle. Pinson. “Before going in Rougette had -taken her precautions, and had paid for everything in advance. You can -imagine the scene when Viot answered, ‘Gentlemen, everything is paid.’ -Our three unknown gentlemen looked at us as never three dogs looked at -three bishops, with pitiful stupefaction mixed with pure tenderness. -But we, without seeming to notice anything unusual, went down-stairs -and ordered a cab. ‘Dear Marquise,’ said Rougette to me, ‘we ought to -take these gentlemen home.’ ‘Certainly, dear Countess,’ answered I. Our -poor young gallants did not know what to say, they looked so sheepish. -They wanted to get rid of our politeness, and asked not to be taken -home, even refusing to give their address. No wonder, either, because -they felt sure that they were having to do with great ladies, and they -lived in Fish-Cat Street!” - -The two students, the friends of Marcel, who, up to this time, had done -nothing but smoke their pipes and drink in silence, appeared little -pleased with this story. Their faces grew red, and they seemed to know -as much about this unfortunate supper as Mimi herself, at whom they -glanced restlessly. Marcel, laughing, said: - -“Tell us who they were, Mlle. Mimi. Since it happened last week it does -not matter.” - -“Never!” cried the girl. “Play a trick on a man--yes. But ruin his -career--never!” - -“You are right,” said Eugène, “and are acting even more wisely than you -yourself are aware of. There is not a single young fellow at college -who has not some such mistake or folly behind him, and yet it is from -among these very people that France draws her most distinguished men.” - -“Yes,” said Marcel, “that’s true. There are peers of France who now -dine at Flicoteau’s, but who once could not pay their bills. But,” he -added, and winked, “haven’t you seen your unknown gentlemen again?” - -“What do you take us for?” answered Mlle. Pinson in a severe and almost -offended tone. “You know Blanchette and Rougette, and do you suppose -that I----?” - -“Very well,” said Marcel, “don’t be angry. But isn’t this a nice state -of affairs? Here are three giddy girls, who may not be able to pay -their next day’s dinner, and who throw away their money for the sake of -mystifying three poor unoffending devils!” - -“But why did they invite us to supper?” asked Mlle. Pinson.--“_Mimi -Pinson._” - - * * * * * - -Charles Paul de Kock was a novelist and dramatist. A short quotation -from _A Much Worried Gentleman_ shows the ubiquitous mother-in-law -jest. - - - _THÉOPHILE’S MOTHER-IN-LAW_ - -“Son-in-law, you will offer me your arm; your wife will take her -cousin’s.” - -“Yes, mother-in-law.” - -“Furthermore, when we get to the caterer’s for dinner, you must not -whisper to your wife. People might suspect something unrefined.” - -“Yes, mother-in-law.” - -“Neither must you kiss her.” - -“Why, you object to me kissing my wife?” - -“Before people, yes. It’s very bad form. Haven’t you time enough for it -at home?” - -“True.” - -“At table you will not sit next to your wife, but next to me.” - -“That’s agreed.” - -“During the meal you will take care that no comic songs on your -marriage are sung. Those who write them usually permit themselves -indelicate jokes, so that the ladies are put out. That is the worst -taste possible.” - -“I’ll see that none are sung.” - -“You will dance only once with your wife during the evening. Understand -me--only once.” - -“But, why, why?” - -“Because it is proper to let the bride accept the invitations of -relatives, friends, and strangers.” - -“But I didn’t marry in order that my wife should dance with everybody -except myself!” - -“Do you wish to insinuate, son-in-law, that you can instruct me -concerning the usages of polite society? You are beginning well.” - -“I assure you, mother-in-law, that I had no intention----” - -“That will do. I accept your excuses. We now come to a more delicate -matter, to--but, of course, you must understand me.” - -“I confess that I do not at all.” - -“Listen, son-in-law. Some newly married young men, on their -wedding-night, when the ball is at its gayest, take the liberty of -carrying off their wives, and disappearing with them about twelve -o’clock.” - -“And you object to that?” - -“Fie, sir, fie! If you were to be guilty of such a thing, I would make -your wife sue for a divorce the day after your marriage.” - -“Be easy, then; I will not disappear. But when may I go away with my -wife?” - -“I shall take my daughter with me, and arrange an opportune time when -the decencies of the situation may be observed.” - -“And who will take me?” - -“You will go alone, but you will not go, understand me well, until -there isn’t a cat left at the ball.” - -“I shall be getting to bed very late, then. Some of the people will -want square dances and country dances, and----” - -“You will get to bed soon enough, son-in-law.” - -“But why all this, mother-in-law?” - -“That will do, M. Tamponnet! It is not becoming that this conversation -be prolonged.” - - * * * * * - -Alexandre Dumas, the Elder, was a noted novelist and dramatist. His -output was enormous, and the wit, though always discernible, was -subordinate to matters of heroism, adventure and the like. - - - _CHAPTER TOUCHING THE OLFACTORY ORGAN_ - -Has it ever occurred to you, dear reader, how admirable an organ the -nose is? - -The nose; yes, the nose. - -And how useful an article this very nose is to every creature which, as -Ovid says, lifts its face to heaven? - -Well, strange as it may seem, monstrous ingratitude that it is, no poet -has yet thought of addressing an ode to the nose! - -So it has been left to me, who am not a poet, or who, at least, claim -to rank only after our greatest poets, to conceive such an idea. - -Truly, the nose is unfortunate. - -So many things have been invented for the eyes: - -Songs and compliments and kaleidoscopes, pictures and scenery and -spectacles. - -And for the ears: - -Ear-rings, of course, and _Robert the Devil_, _William Tell_, -and _Fra Diavolo_, Stradivarius violins and Érard pianos and Sax -trumpets. - -And for the mouth: - -Lent, plain cooking, _The Gastronomists’ Calendar_, _The -Gormand’s Dictionary_. Soups of every kind have they made for it, -from Russian broth to French cabbage-soup; dishes for it are connected -with the reputations of the greatest men, from Soubise cutlets to -Richelieu puddings; its lips have been compared to coral, its teeth to -pearls, its breath to perfume. Before it have been set plumed peacocks -and undrawn snipes; and, for the future, it has been promised whole -roast larks. - -But what has been invented for the nose? - -Attar of roses and snuff. - -You have not done well, oh, my masters the philanthropists; oh, my -brothers the poets! - -And yet how faithfully this limb---- - -“It is not a limb!” cry the scientists. - -I beg your pardon, gentlemen, and retract. This appendage--Ah yes, I -was saying with what touching fidelity this appendage has done service -for you. - -The eyes sleep, the mouth closes, the ears are deaf. - -The nose is always on duty. - -It watches over your repose and contributes to your health. Feet, -hands, all other parts of the body are stupid. The hands are often -caught in foolish acts; the feet stumble, and in their clumsiness allow -the body to fall. And when they do, they get off free, and the poor -nose is punished for their misdeeds. - -How often do you not hear it said: “Mr. So-and-So has broken his nose.” - -There have been a great many broken noses since the creation of the -world. - -Can any one give a single instance of a nose broken through any fault -of its own? - -No; but, nevertheless, the poor nose is always being scolded. - -Well, it endures it all with angelic patience. True, it sometimes has -the impertinence to snore. But where and when did you ever hear it -complain?... - -But let us forget for a moment the utility of the nose, and regard it -only from the esthetic point of view. - -A cedar of Lebanon, it tramples underfoot the hyssop of the mustache; -a central column, it provides a support for the double arch of the -eyebrows. On its capital perches the eagle of thought. It is enwreathed -with smiles. With what boldness did the nose of Ajax confront the storm -when he said, “I will escape in spite of the gods.” With what courage -did the nose of the great Condé--whose greatness really derived from -his nose--with what courage did the nose of the great Condé enter -before all others, before the great Condé himself, the entrenchments -of the Spanish at Lens and Rocroy, where their conqueror boldly -flourished the staff of command? With what assurance was Dugazon’s -nose thrust before the public, that nose which knew how to wriggle in -forty-two different ways, and each way funnier than the last? - -No, I do not believe that the nose should be permitted to remain in the -obscurity into which man’s ingratitude has hitherto forced it. - -I suggest as one reason why the nose has submitted to this injustice -the fact that Occidental noses are so small. - -But the deuce is to pay if the noses of the West are the only noses. - -There are the Oriental noses, which are very handsome noses. - -Do you question the superiority of these noses to your own, gentlemen -of Paris, of Vienna, of St. Petersburg? - -In that case, my Viennese friends, go by the Danube; you Parisians, -take the steamer; Petersburgers, the sledge; and say these simple words: - -“To Georgia.” - -But I forewarn you of deep humiliation. Should you bring to Georgia one -of the largest noses in Europe, at the gate of Tiflis they would gaze -at you in astonishment and exclaim: - -“What a pity that this gentleman has lost his nose on the way.” ... - -Ah, sweet Heaven! those beautiful Georgian noses! Robust noses, -magnificent noses! - -They are all shapes: - -Round, fat, long, large. - -There is every color: - -White, pink, crimson, violet. - -Some are set with rubies, others with pearls. I saw one set with -turquoises. - -In Georgia, Vakhtang IV abolished the fathom, the meter, and the yard, -keeping only the nose. - -Goods are measured off by the nose. - -They say, “I bought seventeen noses of flannel for a dressing-gown, -seven noses of cloth for a pair of breeches, a nose and a half of satin -for a cravat.” - -Let us add, finally, that the Georgian ladies find this more convenient -than European measures. - - * * * * * - -Théophile Gautier, poet, artist and novelist was identified with the -romantic movement in French literature. - -A charming art of description was his, as may be seen in the story of -the _Lap Dog_. - - - _FANFRELUCHE_ - -To write in praise of this marvelous lap-dog, one should pluck a quill -from the wing of Love himself; the hands of the Graces alone would be -light enough to trace his picture; nor would the touch of Latour be too -soft. - -His name was Fanfreluche, a pretty name for a dog, and one that he bore -with honor. - -Fanfreluche was no larger than his mistress’s hand, and it is well -known that the marquise has the smallest hand in the world; and yet he -seemed larger to the eye, assuming almost the proportions of a small -sheep, for he had silky hair a foot in length, and so fine and soft and -lustrous that the tresses of Minette were a mere mop by contrast. When -he presented his paw, and one pressed it a little, one was astonished -to feel nothing at all. Fanfreluche was rather a ball of silk, from -which two beautiful brown eyes and a little red nose glittered, than an -actual dog. Such a dog could only have belonged to the mother of Love, -who lost him in Cytherea, where the marquise, on one of her occasional -visits, found him. Look for a moment at this fascinatingly exquisite -face. Would not Roxalana herself have been jealous of that delicately -tipped-up nose, divided in the middle by a little furrow just like Anne -of Austria’s? - -What vivacity in that quick eye! And that double row of white teeth, -no larger than grains of rice, which, at the least emotion, sparkled -in all their brilliance--what duchess would not envy them? And this -charming Fanfreluche, apart from his physical attractions, possessed -a thousand social graces: he danced the minuet with exquisite grace, -knew how to give his paw and tell the hour, capered before the queen -and great ladies of France, and distinguished his right paw from his -left. And Fanfreluche was learned, and knew more than the members of -the Academy. If he was not a member of that body it was because he did -not desire it, thinking, no doubt, to shine rather by his absence. The -abbé declared that he was as strong as a Turk in the dead languages, -and that, if he did not talk, it was from pure malice and to vex his -mistress. - -Then, too, Fanfreluche had not the vivacity of common dogs. He was -very dainty, and very hard to please. He absolutely refused to eat -anything but little pies of calves’ brains made especially for him; -he would drink nothing but cream from a little Japanese saucer. Only -when his mistress dined in town would he consent to nibble at the wing -of a chicken, and to take sweets for dessert; but he did not grant -this favor to every one, and one had to have an excellent cook to gain -it. Fanfreluche had only one little fault. But who is perfect in this -world? He loved cherries in brandy and Spanish snuff, of which he took -a little pinch from time to time. But the latter is a weakness he -shared with the Prince of Condé. - -When he heard the cover of the general’s golden snuff-box click, it -was a treat to see him sit up on his little hind legs and brush the -carpet with his silken tail; and, if the marquise was engrossed in the -pleasures of whist, and did not watch him closely, he would jump on the -abbé’s lap, who fed him with brandied cherries. And Fanfreluche, whose -head was not strong, would become as tipsy as a Swiss guard and two -choristers, would perform the queerest little tricks on the carpet, and -become extraordinarily ferocious on the subject of the calves of the -chevalier, who, to preserve what little was left of them, would draw -up his legs on his chair. Then Fanfreluche was no longer a little dog, -but a little lion, and the marquise alone could manage him. His picture -would not be complete without mentioning the droll little naughtinesses -that he was guilty of before being stowed away into his muff, and put -to bed in his niche of rosewood, padded with white satin and edged with -blue silk cord. - -Henri Murger, a noted litterateur, wrote on themes both gloomy and -merry. More than most, he ran the gamut from grave to gay, from lively -to severe. - -Among his best known works are his Bohemian Life Sketches. From the -subjoined bit, it may be seen that boresome parties obtain in all times -and nations. - - - _AN EVENING RECEPTION_ - -Toward the end of the month of December the messengers of Bidault’s -agency received for distribution about a hundred copies of a circular -of which we certify the following to be a true and genuine copy: - - * * * * * - -Messieurs Rodolphe and Marcel request the honor of your company at a -reception, on Christmas Eve, Saturday next. There is going to be some -fun. - -P. S. We only live once! - - - _Program_ - - - I - -7 P.M. The rooms will open: lively and animated conversation. - -8 P.M. The ingenious authors of _The Mountain in Labor_, -a comedy rejected by the Odéon, will take a turn round the rooms. - -8.30 P.M. M. Alexandre Schaunard, the distinguished artist, -will execute his Imitative Symphony for the piano, called _The -Influence of Blue in Art_. - -9 P.M. First reading of a memoir on the abolition of the -penalty of tragedy. - -9.30 P.M. M. Gustave Colline, hyperphysical philosopher, and -M. Schaunard will commence a debate on comparative philosophy and -metapolitics. In order to prevent any possible collision, the two -disputants will be tied together. - -10 P.M. M. Tristan, a literary man, will relate the story of his first -love. M. Alexandre Schaunard will play a pianoforte accompaniment. - -10.30 P.M. Second reading of the memoir on the abolition of the penalty -of tragedy. - -11 P.M. _The Story of a Cassowary Hunt_, by a foreign prince. - - - II - -At midnight M. Marcel, historical painter, will make a white chalk -drawing, with his eyes bandaged. Subject: The interview between -Napoleon and Voltaire in the Champs Élysées. At the same time M. -Rodolphe will improvise a parallel between the author of _Zaïre_ -and the author of _The Battle of Austerlitz_. - -12.30 A.M. M. Gustave Colline, in modest undress, will give a -revival of the athletic sports of the Fourth Olympiad. - -1 A.M. Third reading of the memoir on the abolition of the -penalty of tragedy, followed by a collection in aid of authors of -tragedies likely to be thrown out of employment. - -2 A.M. Sports and quadrilles, which will be kept up till -morning. - -6 A.M. Rise of the sun upon the scene. Final chorus. - -The ventilators will be open during the whole of the reception. - - * * * * * - -N. B. Any person attempting to read or recite poetry will be -immediately ejected from the rooms and taken into custody; you are also -requested not to take away candle-ends. - - * * * * * - -Victor Marie Hugo, celebrated poet, novelist and dramatist, was a -recognized leader of the Romantic school of Nineteenth century France. - -Quotation from his works is hard to do in brief, but an amusing story -is given from _Tales of a Grandfather_. - - - _THE GOOD FLEA AND THE WICKED KING_ - -Once upon a time there was a wicked king, who made his people very -unhappy. Everybody detested him, and those whom he had put in prison -and beheaded would have liked to whip him. But how? He was the -strongest, he was the master, he did not have to give account to any -one, and when he was told his subjects were not content, he replied: - -“Well, what of it? I don’t care a rap!” Which was an ugly answer. - -As he continued to act like a king, and as every day he became a little -more wicked than the day before, this set a certain little flea to -thinking over the matter. It was a little bit of a flea, who was of no -consequence at all, but full of good sentiments. This is not the nature -of fleas in general; but this one had been very well brought up; it bit -people with moderation, and only when it was very hungry. - -“What if I were to bring the king to reason?” it said to itself. “It is -not without danger. But no matter--I will try.” - -That night the wicked king, after having done all sorts of naughty -things during the day, was calmly going to sleep when he felt what -seemed to be the prick of a pin. - -“Bite!” - -He growled, and turned over on the other side. - -“Bite! Bite! Bite!” - -“Who is it that bites me so?” cried the king in a terrible voice. - -“It is I,” replied a very little voice. - -“You? Who are you?” - -“A little flea who wishes to correct you.” - -“A flea? Just you wait! Just you wait, and you shall see!” - -And the king sprang from his bed, twisted his coverings, and shook the -sheets, all of which was quite useless, for the good flea had hidden -itself in the royal beard. - -“Ah,” said the king, “it has gone now, and I shall be able to get a -sound sleep.” - -But scarcely had he laid his head on the pillow, when-- - -“Bite!” - -“How? What? Again?” - -“Bite! Bite!” - -“You dare to return, you abominable little flea? Think for a moment -what you are doing! You are no bigger than a grain of sand, and you -dare to bite one of the greatest kings on earth!” - -“Well, what of it? I don’t care a rap!” answered the flea in the very -words of the king. - -“Ah, if I only had you!” - -“Yes, but you haven’t got me!” - -The wicked king did not sleep all that night, and he arose the next -morning in a killing ill humor. He resolved to destroy his enemy. -By his orders, they cleaned the palace from top to bottom, and -particularly his bedroom; his bed was made by ten old women very -skilful in the art of catching fleas. But they caught nothing, for the -good flea had hidden itself under the collar of the king’s coat. - -That night, this frightful tyrant, who was dying for want of sleep, lay -back on both his ears, though this is said to be very difficult. But he -wished to sleep double, and he knew no better way. I wish you may find -a better. Scarcely had he put out his light, when he felt the flea on -his neck. - -“Bite! Bite!” - -“Ah, zounds! What is this?” - -“It is I--the flea of yesterday.” - -“But what do you want, you rascal--you tiny pest?” - -“I wish you to obey me, and to make your people happy.” - -“Ho, there, my soldiers, my captain of the guard, my ministers, my -generals! Everybody! The whole lot of you!” - -The whole lot of them came in. The king was in a rage, which made -everybody tremble. He found fault with all the servants of the palace. -Everybody was in consternation. During this time the flea, quite calm, -kept itself hid in the king’s nightcap. - -The guards were doubled; laws and decrees were made; ordinances were -published against all fleas; there were processions and public prayers -to ask of Heaven the extermination of the flea, and sound sleep for the -king. It was all of no avail. The wretched king could not lie down, -even on the grass, without being attacked by his obstinate enemy, the -good flea, who did not let him sleep a single minute. - -“Bite! Bite!” - -It would take too long to tell the many hard knocks the king gave -himself in trying to crush the flea; he was covered with bruises and -contusions. As he could not sleep, he wandered about like an uneasy -spirit. He grew thinner. He would certainly have died if, at last, he -had not made up his mind to obey the good flea. - -“I surrender,” he said at last, when it began to bite him again. “I ask -for quarter. I will do what you wish.” - -“So much the better. On that condition only shall you sleep,” replied -the flea. - -“Thank you. What must I do?” - -“Make your people happy!” - -“I have never learned how. I do not know how----” - -“Nothing more easy: you have only to go away.” - -“Taking my treasures with me?” - -“Without taking anything.” - -“But I shall die if I have no money,” said the king. - -“Well, what of it? I don’t care!” replied the flea. - -But the flea was not hard-hearted, and it let the king fill his pockets -with money before he went away. And the people were able to be very -happy by setting up a republic. - - * * * * * - -Alphonse Daudet, humorist and story writer, created the character of -Tartarin, a gasconading humbug, and a satire on the typical character -attributed to Southern France. - -A bit from _Tartarin in the Alps_ will show the type of humor. - - - _WILLIAM TELL_ - -The party of travelers now came to the Lake of Lucerne, with its dark -waters overshadowed by high and menacing mountains. To their right they -saw that Ruetli meadow where Melchthal, Fuerst, and Stauffacher had -sworn the oath to deliver their country. - -Tartarin, deeply moved, took off his cap, and even threw it into the -air three times to render homage to the shades of the departed heroes. -Some of the tourists mistook this for a salutation, and bowed in -return. At last they reached Tell’s Chapel. This chapel is situated at -the edge of the lake, on the very rock upon which, during the storm, -William Tell jumped from Gessler’s boat. And it was a delicious emotion -to Tartarin, while he followed the travelers along the lake, to tread -this historic ground, to recall and revive the various scenes of this -great drama, which he knew as well as his own biography. - -For William Tell had always been his ideal man. When at Bézuquet’s -pharmacy the game of Preferences was being played, and each one wrote -on his slip of paper the name of the poet, the tree, the odor, the -hero, and the woman that he preferred to all others of their kind, one -slip invariably bore this inscription: - -“Favorite tree?--The baobab. - -“Favorite odor?--Gunpowder. - -“Favorite author?--Fenimore Cooper. - -“Who would you like to have been?--William Tell.” - -And then everybody would exclaim, “That’s Tartarin!” - -Imagine, then, how happy he was, and how his heart beat when he stood -before the chapel commemorative of the gratitude of a whole nation. It -seemed to him as if William Tell must come in person to open the door, -still dripping from the waters of the lake, and holding in his hand his -bolts and crossbow. - -“Don’t come in here. I’m working. This is not the day on which tourists -are allowed,” sounded a strong voice from the interior, reechoing -against the walls. - -“M. Astier-Réhu, of the French Academy!” - -“Herr Professor Doctor Schwanthaler!” - -“Tartarin of Tarascon!” - -The painter, who was standing on a scaffolding within, stretched out -half of his body clad in his working-blouse, and holding his palette in -his hand. - -“My pupil will come down and open the door for you, gentlemen,” he said -in a respectful tone. - -“I was sure of it; of course,” said Tartarin to himself, “I have only -to mention my name.” - -For all that, he had the good taste to fall into line and modestly -enter the chapel behind the others. - -The painter, a splendid fellow, with a magnificent golden head of -an artist of the Renaissance, received his visitors on the wooden -staircase which led to the temporary scaffolding from which the mural -paintings were being done. All the frescos, representing scenes from -Tell’s life, were complete, except the one in which the scene of -the apple at Altorf was to be shown. Upon that the painter was now -working.... - -“I find it all very characteristically done,” said the great -Astier-Réhu. - -And Schwanthaler, folding his arms, recited two of Schiller’s verses, -half of which was lost in his beard. Then the ladies delivered their -opinions, and for some minutes one would have thought oneself in a -confectioner’s shop. “Beautiful!” they cried. “Lovely! Exquisite! -Delicious!” - -Suddenly came a voice, tearing the silence like a trumpet’s blare: - -“Badly shouldered, that blunderbuss, I tell you! He never held it in -that way!” - -Imagine the stupefaction of the painter when this tourist, stick in -hand and bundle on his back, undertook to demonstrate to him as clearly -as that two and two are four, that the position of Tell in the picture -was incorrect. - -“And I understand these matters, I would have you know!” - -“And who are you?” - -“Who am I?” said our Tarasconian hero, deeply astonished. And so it -was not at his name that the door had opened. Drawing himself up, he -answered, “Ask the panthers of Zaccar, or the lions of Atlas, and -perhaps they will answer you.” - -Every one drew away from Tartarin in fright and consternation. - -“But then,” asked the painter, “in what respect is Tell’s position -incorrect?” - -“Look at me!” - -Falling back with a double step that made the planks creak, Tartarin, -using his cane to represent the “blunderbuss,” threw himself into -position. - -“Superb! He is right! Don’t move!” cried the painter. Then to his pupil: - -“Quick, bring me paper and charcoal!” - - - - - GERMAN HUMOR - -Christian F. Gellert, a German poet of the early Eighteenth century, -was also a lecturer and professor of philosophy. - -His literary fame rests upon his sacred songs and his fables. One of -the latter we quote. - - - _THE PATIENT CURED_ - - A man long plagued with aches in joint and limb - Did all his neighbors recommended him, - But, despite that, could nowise gain - Deliverance from his pain. - An ancient dame, to whom he told his case, - Cut an oracular grimace, - And thus announced a magic remedy: - “You must,” said she, - Mysteriously hissing in his ear, - And calling him “My dear,” - “Sit on a good man’s grave at early light, - And with the dew fresh-fallen over night - Thrice bathe your hands, your knee-joints thrice: - ’Twill cure you in a trice. - Remember her who gave you this advice.” - - The patient did just as the grandam said. - (What will not mortals do to be - Relieved of misery?) - He went right early to the burying-ground, - And on a tombstone--’twas the first he found-- - These words, delighted, read: - “Stranger, what man he was who sleeps below, - This monument and epitaph may show. - The wonder of his time was he, - The pattern of most genuine piety; - And that thou all in a few words may’st learn, - Him church and school and town and country mourn.” - - Here the poor cripple takes his seat, - And bathes his hands, his joints, his feet; - But all his labor’s worse than vain: - It rather aggravates his pain. - - With troubled mind he grasps his staff, - Turns from the good man’s grave, and creeps - On to the next, where lowly sleeps - One honored by no epitaph. - Scarce had he touched the nameless stone, - When lo! each racking pain had flown; - His useless staff forgotten on the ground, - He leaves this holy grave, erect and sound. - - “Ah!” he exclaimed, “is there no line to tell - Who was this holy man that makes me well?” - Just then the sexton did appear, - Of him he asked, “Pray, who lies buried here?” - The sexton waited long, and seemed quite shy - Of making any sort of a reply. - “Well,” he began at last with mournful sigh, - “The Lord forgive him, ’twas a man - Placed by all honest circles under ban; - Whom scarcely they allowed a decent grave; - Whose soul naught but a miracle might save; - A heretic, and, what is worse, - Wrote plays and verse! - In short, to speak my full conviction, - And without fear of contradiction, - He was an innovator and a scound--” - “No!” cried the man. “No, I’ll be bound! - Not so, though all the world the lie repeat! - But that chap there, who sleeps hard by us, - Whom you and all the world call pious, - He was, for sure, a scoundrel and a cheat!” - - * * * * * - -Gotthold Ephraim Lessing was a celebrated German dramatist and critic. -His collected works fill many volumes. - -We quote a few of his Fables and Epigrams. - - - _THE RAVEN_ - -The raven remarked that the eagle sat thirty days upon her eggs. “That, -undoubtedly,” said she, “is the reason why the young of the eagle are -so all-seeing and strong. Good! I will do the same.” - -And, since then, the raven actually sits thirty days upon -her eggs; but, as yet, she has hatched nothing but miserable -ravens.--_Fables._ - - - _THE DECORATED BOW_ - -A man had an excellent bow of ebony, with which he shot very far and -very sure, and which he valued at a great price. But once, after -considering it attentively, he said: - -“A little too rude still! Your only ornament is your polish. It is a -pity! However, that can be remedied,” thought he. “I will go and let a -first-rate artist carve something on the bow.” - -He went, and the artist carved an entire hunting-scene upon the bow. -And what more fitting for a bow than a hunting-scene? - -The man was delighted. “You deserve this embellishment, my beloved -bow.” So saying, he wished to try it. - -He drew the string. The bow broke!--_Fables._ - - - _EPIGRAMS_ - - From the grave where dead Gripeall, the miser, reposes, - What a villainous odor invades all our noses! - It can’t be his _body_ alone--in the hole - They have certainly buried the usurer’s _soul_. - - * * * * * - - While Fell was reposing himself on the hay, - A reptile conceal’d bit his leg as he lay; - But all venom himself, of the wound he made light, - And got well, while the scorpion died of the bite. - - * * * * * - - So vile your grimace, and so croaking your speech, - One scarcely can tell if you’re laughing or crying; - Were you fix’d on one’s funeral sermon to preach, - The bare apprehension would keep one from dying. - - * * * * * - - Quoth gallant Fritz, “I ran away - To fight again another day.” - The meaning of his speech is plain, - He only fled to fly again. - - * * * * * - - “How strange, a deaf wife to prefer!” - “True, but she’s also dumb, good sir.” - - * * * * * - -Rudolph Erich Raspe was a German author who was also an Archæologist of -note. - -His best known work is the celebrated _History of Baron Münchausen_. - - - _A HORSE TIED TO A STEEPLE_ - -I set off from Rome on a journey to Russia, in the midst of winter, -from a just notion that frost and snow must of course improve the -roads, which every traveler had described as uncommonly bad through -the northern parts of Germany, Poland, Courland, and Livonia. I went -on horseback, as the most convenient manner of traveling. I was but -lightly clothed, and of this I felt the inconvenience the more I -advanced northeast. What must not a poor old man have suffered in that -severe weather and climate, whom I saw on a bleak common in Poland, -lying on the road, helpless, shivering, and hardly having wherewithal -to cover his nakedness? I pitied the poor soul. Though I felt the -severity of the atmosphere myself, I threw my mantle over him, and -immediately I heard a voice from the heavens, blessing me for that -piece of charity, saying: - -“You will be rewarded, my son, for this in time.” - -I went on. Night and darkness overtook me. No village was to be seen. -The country was covered with snow, and I was unacquainted with the road. - -Tired out, I alighted, and fastened my horse to something like the -pointed stump of a tree which appeared above the snow. For the sake -of safety I placed my pistols under my arm, and laid down on the -snow, where I slept so soundly that I did not open my eyes till full -daylight. It is not easy to conceive my astonishment at finding myself -in the midst of a village, lying in a churchyard. Nor was my horse -to be seen; but I heard him soon after neigh somewhere above me. On -looking upward, I beheld him hanging by his bridle to the weathercock -of the steeple. Matters were now quite plain to me. The village had -been covered with snow overnight; a sudden change in the weather had -taken place; I had sunk down to the churchyard while asleep at the same -rate as the snow had melted away; and what in the dark I had taken to -be a stump of a little tree appearing above the snow, to which I had -tied my horse, proved to have been the cross or weathercock of the -steeple! - -Without long consideration, I took one of my pistols, shot the -bridle in two, brought down the horse, and proceeded on my -journey.--_Adventures of Baron Münchausen._ - - - _A RATHER LARGE WHALE_ - -I embarked at Portsmouth, in a first-rate English man-of-war of one -hundred guns and fourteen hundred men, for North America. Nothing worth -relating happened till we arrived within three hundred leagues of the -river St. Lawrence, when the ship struck with amazing force against (as -we supposed) a rock. However, upon heaving the lead, we could find no -bottom, even with three hundred fathoms. What made this circumstance -the more wonderful, and indeed beyond all comprehension, was, that -the violence of the shock was such that we lost our rudder, broke our -bowsprit in the middle, and split all our masts from top to bottom, -two of which went by the board. A poor fellow, who was aloft furling -the main-sheet, was flung at least three leagues from the ship; but -he fortunately saved his life by laying hold of the tail of a large -sea-gull, which brought him back and lodged him on the very spot whence -he was thrown. Another proof of the violence of the shock was the force -with which the people between decks were driven against the floors -above them. My head particularly was pressed into my stomach, where it -continued some months before it returned to its natural situation. - -While we were all in a state of astonishment at the general and -unaccountable confusion in which we were involved, the whole was -suddenly explained by the appearance of a large whale, which had been -basking, asleep, within sixteen feet of the surface of the water. This -animal was so much displeased with the disturbance which our ship had -given him--for in our passage we had with our rudder scratched his -nose--that he beat in all the gallery and part of the quarter-deck with -his tail, and almost at the same instant took the main-sheet anchor, -which was suspended, as it usually is, from the head, between his -teeth, and ran away with the ship at least sixty leagues, at the rate -of twelve leagues an hour, when, fortunately, the cable broke, and we -lost both the whale and the anchor. However, upon our return to Europe, -some months after, we found the same whale within a few leagues of the -same spot, floating dead upon the water. It measured above half a mile -in length. As we could take only a small quantity of such a monstrous -animal on board, we got our boats out, and with much difficulty cut off -his head, where, to our great joy, we found the anchor, and above forty -fathoms of the cable, concealed on the left side of his mouth, just -under his tongue. Perhaps this was the cause of his death, as that side -of his tongue was much swelled with severe inflammation. - -This was the only extraordinary circumstance that happened on this -voyage. One part of our distress, however, I had like to have forgot. -While the whale was running away with the ship she sprang a leak, and -the water poured in so fast that all our pumps could not keep us from -sinking. It was, however, my good fortune to discover it first. I found -a large hole about a foot in diameter, and you will naturally suppose -this circumstance gives me infinite pleasure, when I inform you that -this noble vessel was preserved, with all its crew, by a most happy -thought of mine. In short I sat down over it, and could have covered -it had it been even larger. Nor will you be surprised at this when I -inform you that I am descended from Dutch parents. - -My situation, while I sat there, was rather cool, but the carpenter’s -art soon relieved me. - - --_Adventures of Baron Münchausen._ - - * * * * * - -Matthias Claudius was another maker of Poetical Fables and Folk Songs. - - - _THE HEN AND THE EGG_ - - A famous hen’s my story’s theme, - Who ne’er was known to tire - Of laying eggs, but then she’d scream - So loud o’er every egg, ’twould seem - The house must be on fire. - A turkey-cock, who ruled the walk, - A wiser bird, and older, - Could bear’t no more, so off did stalk - Right to the hen, and told her: - “Madam, that scream, I apprehend, - Does not affect the matter; - It surely helps the eggs no whit; - So, lay your egg--and done with it! - I pray you, madam, as a friend, - Cease that superfluous clatter. - You know not how’t goes through my head!” - “Humph! Very likely!” madam said, - Then, proudly putting forth a leg: - “Uneducated barnyard fowl, - You know no more than any owl - The noble privilege and praise - Of authorship in modern days! - I’ll tell you why I do it: - First, you perceive, I lay my egg, - And then--review it.” - -Friedrich von Schiller was among the most famous of Germany’s writers. -Poet, dramatist and historian he left numerous works of varied value. - -His humor, like that of all his countrymen, is heavy and rather labored. - - - _PEGASUS IN THE YOKE_ - - Into a public fair--a cattle-fair, in short, - Where other things are bought and sold--ah, sad to tell! - A hungry poet one day brought - The Muse’s Pegasus to sell. - - Shrill neighed the hippogriff and clear, - And pranced, and reared, displaying his proud frame, - Till all exclaimed in wonder, who stood near, - “The noble, royal beast! But what a shame - His slender form by such a hateful pair - Of wings is spoiled! He’d set off a fine post-team well.” - “The race,” say others, “would be rare; - But who’s go posting through the air?” - And lose his money no one will. - A farmer mustered courage, though, at length, - “The wings, indeed,” he says, “will be no profit; - But them one might tie down, or crop them off; it - Then were a good horse for drawing--it has strength. - I’ll give you twenty pounds, sir, win or lose.” - The seller, too delighted to refuse, - Cried out, “Agreed!” and eagerly the offer seized. - Hans with his bargain trudged off home, well pleased. - - The noble beast was harnessed in, - But felt th’ unwonted burden to be light, - And off he set with appetite for flight, - And soon his wild careering would begin, - And hurled the cart in proudest rage - Over a precipice’s edge. - “Well done!” thought Hans. “We wisdom from experience borrow; - I’ll trust the mad beast with no loads again. - I’ve passengers to take to-morrow; - He shall be put in leader of the train. - By using him, two horses I shall spare; - He’ll learn in time the collar, too, to bear.” - - They went on well awhile. The horse was fleet, - And quickened up the rest; and arrow-swift the carriage flies. - But now, what next? With look turned to the skies, - And unaccustomed with firm hoof the ground to beat, - He leaves the sure track of the wheels, - True to the stronger nature which he feels, - And runs through marsh and moor, o’er planted field and plain; - And the same fury seizes all the train. - No call will help, no bridle hold them in, - Till, to the mortal fright of all within, - The coach, well shaken and well smashed, brings up - In sad plight on a steep hill’s top. - - “This is not quite the thing! No, no!” - Says Hans, considering, with a frown. - “In this way I shall never make it go. - Let’s see if ’twill not tame the wild-fire down, - To work him hard, and keep him low.” - The trial’s made. The beast, so fair and trim, - Before three days are gone looks gaunt and grim, - And to a shadow shrunk. “I have it! I have found it now!” - Cries Hans. “Come on, now. Yoke me him - Beside my strongest ox before the plow.” - - So said, so done. In droll procession now, - See ox and wingèd horse before the plow. - Unwilling steps the griffin, strains what little might - Of longing’s left in him, to take his fond old flight. - In vain: deliberately steps his neighbor, - And Phœbus’ high-souled steed must bend to his slow labor, - Till now, by long resistance spent his force, - His trembling limbs he can no longer trust, - And, bowed with shame, the noble, godlike horse - Falls to the ground, and rolls him in the dust. - - “You cursèd beast!” Hans breaks out furious now, - And scolds and blusters, while he lays the blows on; - “You are too poor, then, even for the plow! - You rascal, so my ignorance to impose on!” - - And while in this way angrily he goes on, - And swings the lash, behold! upon the way - A pleasant youth steps up so smart and gay. - A harp shakes ringing in his hand, - And through his glossy, parted hair - Winds glittering a golden band. - “Where now, friend, with that wondrous pair?” - From far off to the boor he spoke. - “The bird and ox together in that style? - I pray you, man, why, what a yoke! - But come, to try a little while, - Will you entrust your horse to me? - Look well: a wonder you shall see.” - - The hippogriff’s unyoked, and with a smile - The youth springs lightsomely upon his back. - Scarce feels the beast the master’s certain hand, - But gnashes at his wings’ confining band, - And mounts, with lightning-look, the airy track. - No more the being that he was, but royally, - A spirit now, a god, up mounteth he; - Unfurls at once, as for their far storm-flight, - His splendid wings, and shoots to heaven with fierce, wild neigh; - And ere the eye can follow him, away - He melts into the clear blue height. - -Johann Wolfgang von Goethe, the greatest name in German literature, is -hardly to be classed among the humorists. - -But a short extract from his Reynard the Fox is quoted. - - “But I am rather bad in my inside. - By what I’ve eaten I am quite upset, - And nowise fitted for a journey yet.” - “What was it?” asked Sir Bruin, quite prepared, - For Reynard had not thrown him off his guard. - “Ah,” quoth the Fox, “what boots it to explain? - E’en your kind pity could not ease my pain. - Since flesh I have abjured, for my soul’s weal, - I’m often sadly put to’t for a meal. - I bear my wretched life as best I can; - A hermit fares not like an alderman. - But yesterday, as other viands failed, - I ate some honey--see how I am swelled! - Of that there’s always to be had enough. - Would I had never touched the cursed stuff! - I ate it out of sheer necessity; - Physic is not so nauseous near to me.” - “Honey!” exclaimed the Bear; “did you say honey! - Would I could any get for love or money! - How can you speak so ill of what’s so good? - Honey has ever been my fav’rite food; - It is so wholesome, and so sweet and luscious, - I can’t conceive how you can call it nauseous. - Do get me some o’t, and you may depend - You’ll make me evermore your steadfast friend.” - “You’re surely joking, uncle!” Reynard cried. - “No, on my sacred word!” the Bear replied; - “I’d not, though jokes as blackberries were rife, - Joke upon such a subject for my life.” - “Well, you surprise me!” said the knavish beast. - “There’s no accounting, certainly, for taste; - And one man’s meat is oft another’s poison. - I’ll wager that you never set your eyes on - Such store of honey as you soon shall spy - At Gaffer Joiner’s, who lives here hard by.” - In fancy o’er the treat did Bruin gloat, - While his mouth fairly watered at the thought. - “Oh, take me, take me there, dear coz,” quoth he, - “And I will ne’er forget your courtesy! - Oh, let me have a taste, if not my fill; - Do, cousin.” Reynard grinned, and said, “I will. - Honey you shall not long time be without. - ’Tis true just now I’m rather sore of foot; - But what of that? The love I bear to you - Shall make the road seem short, and easy too - Not one of all my kith or kin is there - Whom I so honor as th’ illustrious Bear. - Come, then, and in return I know you’ll say - A good word for me on the council day. - You shall have honey to your heart’s content, - And wax, too, if your fancy’s that way bent.” - Whacks of a different sort the sly rogue meant. - Off starts the wily Fox, in merry trim, - And Bruin blindly follows after him. - “If you have luck,” thought Reynard, with a titter, - “I guess you’ll find our honey rather bitter.” - When they at length reached Goodman Joiner’s yard, - The joy that Bruin felt he might have spared. - But hope, it seems, by some eternal rule, - Beguiles the wisest as the merest fool. - ’Twas ev’ning now, and Reynard knew, he said, - The goodman would be safe and sound in bed. - A good and skilful carpenter was he; - Within his yard there lay an old oak-tree, - Whose gnarled and knotted trunk he had to split. - A stout wedge had he driven into it; - The cleft gaped open a good three foot wide; - Toward this spot the crafty Reynard hied. - “Uncle,” quoth he, “your steps this way direct; - You’ll find more honey here than you suspect. - In at this fissure boldly thrust your pate; - But I beseech you to be moderate. - Remember, sweetest things the soonest cloy, - And temperance enhances every joy.” - “What!” said the Bear, a shock’d look as he put on - Of self-restraint; “d’ye take me for a glutton? - With thanks I use the gifts of Providence, - But to abuse them count a grave offense.” - And so Sir Bruin let himself be fooled-- - As strength will be whene’er by craft ’tis ruled. - Into the cleft he thrust his greedy maw - Up to the ears, and either foremost paw. - Reynard drew near, and tugging might and main - Pulled forth the wedge, and the trunk closed again. - By head and foot was Bruin firmly caught, - Nor threats nor flatt’ry could avail him aught. - He howled, he raved, he struggled, and he tore, - Till the whole place re-echoed with his roar, - And Goodman Joiner, wakened by the rout, - Jumped up, much wond’ring what ’twas all about. - He seized his ax, that he might be prepared, - And danger, if it came, might find him on his guard. - Still howled the Bear, and struggled to get free - From the accursed grip of that cleft tree. - He strove and strained, but strained and strove in vain; - His mightiest efforts but increased his pain; - He thought he never should get loose again. - And Reynard thought the same, for his own part, - And wished it, too, devoutly from his heart - And as the joiner coming he espied, - Armed with his ax, the jesting ruffian cried: - “Uncle, what cheer? Is th’ honey to your taste? - Don’t eat too quick; there’s no such need of haste. - The joiner’s coming, and I make no question, - He brings you your dessert, to help digestion.” - Then, deeming ’twas not longer safe to stay, - To Malepartus back he took his way. - -Carl Arnold Kortum, a German poet, wrote a long rigmarole of burlesque, -called _The Jobsiad_. This was exceedingly popular and became a -German classic. It is dull for the most part, but shows flashes of real -drollery. - - -_Contains the copy of a letter, which, among many others, the student -Hieronimus did write to his parents:_ - - Dear and Honored Parents, - I lately - Have suffered for want of money greatly; - Have the goodness, then, to send without fail, - A trifle or two by return of mail. - - I want about twenty or thirty ducats; - For I have not at present a cent in my pockets; - Things are so tight with us this way, - Send me the money at once, I pray. - - And everything is growing higher, - Lodging and washing, and lights and fire, - And incidental expenses every day-- - Send me the ducats without delay. - - You can hardly perceive the enormous expenses - The college imposes on all pretenses, - For text-books and lectures so much to pay-- - I wish the ducats were on their way! - - I devote to my studies unremitting attention-- - One thing I must not forget to mention: - The thirty ducats, pray send them straight - For my purse is in a beggarly state. - - Boots and shoes, and stockings and breeches, - Tailoring, washing, and extra stitches, - Pen, ink and paper, are all so dear, - I wish the thirty ducats were here! - - The money--(I trust you will speedily send it!) - I promise faithfully to spend it; - Yes, dear parents, you never need fear, - I live very strictly and frugally here. - - When other students revel and riot, - I steal away into perfect quiet, - And shut myself up with my books and light - In my study-chamber, till late at night. - - Beyond the needful supply of my table, - I spare, dear parents, all I am able; - Take tea but rarely, and nothing more, - For spending money afflicts me sore. - - Other students, who’d fain be called _mellow_, - Set me down for a niggardly fellow, - And say: there goes the _dig_, just look! - How like a parson he eyes his book! - - With jibes and jokes they daily beset me, - But none of these things do I suffer to fret me; - I smile at all they can do or say-- - Don’t forget the ducats, I pray! - - Ten hours each day I spend at the college, - Drinking at the fount of knowledge, - And when the lectures come to an end, - The rest in private study I spend. - - The Professors express great gratification - Only they hope I will use moderation, - And not wear out in my studiis - Philosophicis et theologicis. - - It would savor, dear parents, of self-laudation, - To enter on an enumeration - Of all my studies--in brief, there is none - More exemplary than your dear son. - - My head seems ready to burst asunder, - Sometimes, with its learned load, and I wonder - Where so much knowledge is packed away: - (Apropos! don’t forget the ducats, I pray!) - - Yes, dearest parents, my devotion to study - Consumes the best strength of mind and body, - And generally even the night is spent - In meditation deep and intent. - - In the pulpit soon I shall take my station - And try my hand at the preacher’s vocation - Likewise I dispute in the college-hall - On learned subjects with one and all. - - But don’t forget to send me the ducats, - For I long so much to replenish my pockets; - The money one day shall be returned - In the shape of a son right wise and learn’d. - - Then my _Privatissimum_ (I’ve been thinking on it - For a long time--and in fact begun it) - Will cost me twenty Rix-dollars more, - Please send with the ducats I mentioned before. - - I also, dear parents, inform you sadly, - I have torn my coat of late very badly, - So please enclose with the rest in your note - Twelve dollars to purchase a new coat. - - New boots are also necessary, - Likewise my night-gown is ragged, very; - My hat and pantaloons, too, alas! - And the rest of my clothes are going to grass. - - Now, as all these things are needed greatly, - Please enclose me four Louis d’ors separately, - Which, joined to the rest, perhaps will be - Enough for the present emergency. - - My recent sickness you may not have heard of; - In fact, for some time, my life was despaired of, - But I haste to assure you, on my word, - That now my health is nearly restored. - - The Medicus, for services rendered, - A bill of eighteen guilders has tendered, - And then the apothecary’s will be, - In round numbers, about twenty-three. - - Now that physician and apothecary - May get their dues, it is necessary - These forty-one guilders be added to the rest, - But, as to my health, don’t be distressed. - - The nurse would also have some compensation, - Who attended me in my critical situation, - I, therefore, think it would be best - To enclose seven guilders for her with the rest. - - For citrons, jellies and things of that nature, - To sustain and strengthen the feeble creature, - The confectioner, too, has a small account, - Eight guilders is about the amount. - - These various items of which I’ve made mention, - Demand immediate attention; - For order, to me, is very dear, - And I carefully from debts keep clear. - - I also rely on your kind attention, - To forward the ducats of which I made mention - So soon as it can possibly be-- - One more small item occurs to me:-- - - Two weeks ago I unluckily stumbled, - And down the length of the stairway tumbled, - As in at the college door I went, - Whereby my right arm almost double was bent. - - The Chirurgus who attended on the occasion, - For his balsams, plasters and preparation - Of spirits, and other things needless to name, - Charges twelve dollars; please forward the same. - - But, that your minds may be acquiescent, - I am, thank God, now convalescent; - Both shoulder and shin are in a very good way, - And I go to lecture every day. - - My stomach is still in a feeble condition, - A circumstance owing, so thinks the physician, - To sitting so much, when I read and write, - And studying so long and so late at night. - - He, therefore, earnestly advises - Burgundy wine, with nutmeg and spices, - And every morning, instead of tea, - For the stomach’s sake, to drink sangaree. - - Please send, agreeably to these advices, - Two pistoles for the wine and spices, - And be sure, dear parents, I only take - Such things as these for the stomach’s sake. - - Finally, a few small debts, amounting - To thirty or forty guilders (loose counting), - Be pleased, in your letter, without fail, - Dear parents, to enclose this bagatelle. - - And could you, for sundries, send me twenty - Or a dozen Louis d’or (that would be plenty), - ’Twould be a kindness seasonably done, - And very acceptable to your son. - - This letter, dear parents, comes hoping to find you - In usual health--I beg to remind you - How much I am for money perplexed, - Please, therefore, to remit in your next. - - Herewith I close my letter, repeating - To you and all my friendly greeting, - And subscribe myself, without further fuss, - Your obedient son, - HIERONIMUS. - - I add in a postscript what I neglected - To say, beloved and highly respected - Parents, I beg most filially, - That you’ll forward the money as soon as may be. - - For I had, dear father (I say it weeping), - Fourteen French Crowns laid by in safe keeping - (As I thought) for a day of need--but the whole - An anonymous person yesterday stole: - - I know you’ll make good, unasked, each shilling, - Your innocent son has lost by this villain; - For a man so considerate must be aware - That I such a loss can nowise bear. - - Meanwhile, I’ll take care that, to-day or to-morrow, - Mr. Anonymous shall, to his sorrow - And your satisfaction, receive the reward - Of his graceless trick with the hempen cord. - -Adelbert von Chamisso, German author and poet, came of an old French -family. His principal work is in prose, _The Wonderful History of -Peter Schlemihl_, the man who sold his shadow. - -An amusing poem is in nonsense vein. - - - _THE PIGTAIL_ - - There lived a sage in days of yore, - And he a handsome pigtail wore; - But wondered much, and sorrowed more, - Because it hung behind him. - - He mused upon this curious case, - And swore he’d change the pigtail’s place, - And have it hanging at his face, - Not dangling there behind him. - - Says he, “The mystery I’ve found; - I’ll turn me round.” He turned him round, - But still it hung behind him. - - Then round, and round, and out, and in, - All day the puzzled sage did spin; - In vain--it mattered not a pin-- - The pigtail hung behind him. - - And right, and left, and round about, - And up, and down, and in, and out - He turned. But still the pigtail stout - Hung steadily behind him. - - And though his efforts never slack, - And though he twist, and whirl, and tack, - Alas! still faithful to his back - The pigtail hangs behind him! - -Wilhelm Müller, a lyric poet of promise, died young. Many of his songs -were set to music by Schubert. His humorous verse was rollicking and -popular. - - - _THE DRUNKARD’S FANCY_ - - Straight from the tavern door - I am come here; - Old road, how odd to me - Thou dost appear! - Right and left changing sides, - Rising and sunk; - Oh, I can plainly see, - Road, thou art drunk! - - Oh, what a twisted face - Thou hast, oh, moon! - One eye shut, t’other eye - Wide as a spoon. - Who could have dreamed of this? - Shame on thee, shame! - Thou hast been fuddling, - Jolly old dame! - - Look at the lamps again: - See how they reel! - Nodding and flickering - Round as they wheel. - Not one among them all - Steady can go; - Look at the drunken lamps - All in a row. - - All in an uproar seem - Great things and small; - I am the only one - Sober at all. - But there’s no safety here - For sober men; - So I’ll turn back to - The tavern again. - -The brothers, Jakob and Wilhelm Grimm, wrote much in collaboration -beside their well-known _Märchen_ or _Fairy Tales_. - -Their humor is of the heavier sort, but their versatile erudition found -opportunities for witty conceits. - - - _EXCERPT FROM CLEVER GRETHEL_ - -One day her master said to her, “Grethel, I have invited some friends -to dinner to-day; cook me some of your best chickens.” - -“That I will, master,” she replied. - -So she went out, and killed two of the best fowls and prepared them for -roasting. - -In the afternoon she placed them on the spit before the fire, and they -were all ready, and beautifully hot and brown by the proper time, but -the visitors had not arrived. So she went to her master, and said, “The -fowls will be quite spoiled if I keep them at the fire any longer. It -will be a pity and a shame if they are not eaten soon!” - -Then said her master, “I will go and fetch the visitors myself,” and -away he went. - -As soon as his back was turned Grethel put the spit with the birds on -one side, and thought, “I have been standing by the fire so long that -it has made me quite thirsty. Who knows when they will come? While I -am waiting I may as well run into the cellar and have a little drop.” -So she seized a jug, and said, “All right, Grethel, you shall have a -good draft. Wine is so tempting!” she continued, “and it does not do -to spoil your draft.” And she drank without stopping till the jug was -empty. - -After this she went into the kitchen, and placed the fowls again before -the fire, basted them with butter, and rattled the spit round so -furiously that they browned and frizzled with the heat. “They would -never miss a little piece if they searched for it ever so carefully,” -she said to herself. Then she dipped her finger in the dripping-pan -to taste, and cried, “Oh, how nice these fowls are! It is a sin and a -shame that there is no one here to eat them!” - -She ran to the window to see if her master and the guests were coming; -but she could see no one. So she went and stood again by the fowls, and -thought, “The wing of that fowl is a little burned. I had better eat it -out of the way.” She cut it off as she thought this, and ate it up, and -it tasted so nice that when she had finished it she thought, “I must -have the other. Master will never notice that anything is missing.” - -After the two wings were eaten, Grethel again went to look for her -master, but there were no signs of his appearance. - -“Who knows?” she said to herself; “perhaps the visitors are not coming -at all, and they have kept my master to dinner, so he won’t be back. -Hi, Grethel! there are lots of good things left for you; and that piece -of fowl has made me thirsty. I must have another drink before I come -back and eat up all these good things.” - -So she went into the cellar, took a large draft of wine, and returning -to the kitchen, sat down and ate the remainder of the fowl with great -relish. - -There was now only one fowl left, and as her master did not return, -Grethel began to look at the other with longing eyes. At last she said, -“Where one is, there the other must be; for the fowls belong to each -other, and what is right for one is also fair and right for the other. -I believe, too, I want some more to drink. It won’t hurt me.” - -The last draft gave her courage. She came back to the kitchen and let -the second fowl go after the first. - -As she was enjoying the last morsel, home came her master. - -“Make haste, Grethel!” he cried. “The guests will be here in a few -minutes.” - -“Yes, master,” she replied. “It will soon be all ready.” - -Meanwhile the master saw that the cloth was laid and everything in -order. So he took up the carving-knife with which he intended to carve -the fowl, and went out to sharpen it on the stones in the passage. - -While he was doing so, the guests arrived and knocked gently and -courteously at the house door. Grethel ran out to see who it was, and -when she caught sight of the visitors she placed her finger on her -lips, and whispered, “Hush! Hush! Go back again as quickly as you came! -If my master should catch you it would be unfortunate. He did invite -you to dinner this evening, but with no other intention than to cut off -both the ears of each of you. Listen; you can hear him sharpening his -knife.” - -The guests heard the sound, and hastened as fast as they could down the -steps, and were soon out of sight. - -Grethel was not idle. She ran screaming to her master, and cried, “You -have invited fine visitors, certainly!” - -“Hi! Why, Grethel, what do you mean?” - -“Oh!” she exclaimed, “they came here just now, and have taken my two -beautiful fowls from the dish that I was going to bring up for dinner, -and have run away with them.” - -“What strange conduct!” said her master, who was so sorry to lose his -nice dinner that he rushed out to follow the thieves. “If they had only -left me one, or at least enough for my own dinner!” he cried, running -after them. But the more he cried to them to stop the faster they -ran; and when they saw him with the knife in his hand, and heard him -say, “Only one! only one!”--he meant, if they had left him “only one -fowl,” but they thought he spoke of “only one ear,” which he intended -to cut off--they ran as if fire were burning around them, and were -not satisfied till they found themselves safe at home with both ears -untouched. - - * * * * * - -Friedrich Rückert was a prolific writer and left many volumes of his -collected poems. - -A scathing bit of satire is here quoted. - - - _ARTIST AND PUBLIC_ - - The dumb man asked the blind man: - “Canst do a favor, pray? - Could I the harper find, man? - Hast seen him pass to-day? - I take, myself, small pleasure - In harp-tones--almost none-- - Yet much I’d like a measure - Played for my deaf young son.” - - The blind man quick made answer: - “I saw him pass my gate; - I’ll send my lame young man, sir, - To overtake him straight.” - At one look from his master, - Away the cripple ran, - And faster, ever faster, - He chased the harper-man. - - The harper came, elated, - And straight to work he went; - His arms were amputated; - His toes to work he bent. - All hearts his playing captured; - The deaf man was all ear; - The blind man gazed, enraptured; - The dumb man shouted, “Hear!” - - The lame boy fell to dancing, - And leaped with all his might; - The scene was so entrancing, - They stayed till late at night. - And when the concert ended, - The public, justly proud, - The artist’s powers commended, - Who, deeply grateful, bowed. - -Heinrich Heine, the celebrated lyric poet, rarely showed any humor in -his poetry. But some of his prose works are broadly ludicrous, and his -observations witty and cynical. - - - _THE TOWN OF GÖTTINGEN_ - -The town of Göttingen, famous by reason of its university and its -sausages, belongs to the kingdom of Hanover, and contains 999 -fire-stations, divers churches, a lying-in hospital, an observatory, -an academic prison, a library, and an underground tavern--where the -beer is excellent. The brook that flows past the town is called the -Leine, and serves for bathing in summer; the water is very cold, and -at some places the brook is so wide that one cannot jump across it -without some exertion. The town is very handsome, and pleases me best -when my back is turned to it. It must be very old, for I remember that -when I matriculated (and was soon afterward rusticated), five years -ago, it had the same gray, ancient appearance, and was as thoroughly -provided, as it is now, with poodle dogs, dissertations, laundresses, -anthologies, roast pigeon, Guelph decorations, pipe-bowls, court -councilors, privy councilors and silly counts.... - -In general, the inhabitants of Göttingen may be divided into students, -professors, Philistines, and cattle. The cattle class is numerically -the strongest. To place on record here the names of all professors -and students would take me too far afield, nor can I even, at this -moment, remember the name of every student; while among the professors -there are many who have as yet made none. The number of Philistines in -Göttingen must be like that of the sands--or rather the mud--of the -sea. Truly, when they appear in the morning with their dirty faces and -their white bills at the gates of the academic court, one wonders how -God could have had the heart to create such a pack of scoundrels! - -More thorough information concerning Göttingen is easily obtainable by -reference to the “Topography” of the town, by K. F. H. Marx. Although -I am under the deepest obligations to the author, who was my physician -and did me many kindnesses, I cannot praise his work without reserve. I -must blame him for not having opposed in terms sufficiently strong the -heresy that the ladies of Göttingen have feet of spacious dimensions. -I have been engaged for a long time upon a work which is to destroy -this erroneous idea once and forever. For this purpose I have studied -comparative anatomy, have made excerpts from the rarest books in the -library, and have for hours and hours observed the feet of the passing -ladies in Weender Street. In my learned treatise I intend to deal with -the subject as follows: - - 1. Of Feet in General. - 2. Of the Feet of the Ancients. - 3. Of the Feet of Elephants. - 4. Of the Feet of the Fair Inhabitants of Göttingen. - 5. Summing up of Opinions delivered upon Feet in Göttingen Taverns. - 6. Connection and Comparison of Feet with Calves, Knees, etc. - 7. Facsimile Charts (if sheets of paper sufficiently large are - obtainable) of Specimen Feet of Göttingen Ladies. - - * * * * * - -I am the most peaceable of mortals. My wishes are: A modest dwelling, a -thatched roof, but a good bed, good fare, milk and butter (the latter -very fresh), flowers at the window, and a few fine trees before my -gate. And if the Lord would fill the cup of my happiness, He would let -me live to see the day when six or seven of my enemies are hung on the -trees. With softened heart I would then forgive them all the evil they -have done me. Yes, one must forgive one’s enemies, but not before they -are hung. - - * * * * * - -A. If I were of the race of Christ, I should boast of it, and not be -ashamed. - -B. So would I, if Christ were the only member of the race. But so many -miserable scamps belong to it that one hesitates to acknowledge the -relationship. - - * * * * * - -Gervinus, the literary historian, set himself the following problem: To -repeat in a long and witless book what Heinrich Heine said in a short -and witty one. He solved the problem. - - * * * * * - -_De mortuis nil nisi bene_. One should speak only evil of the -living. - -Heinrich Hoffman, a Frankfort doctor, wrote the popular tales for -children about Struwelpeter, which are nursery classics in many -languages. These stories have an added interest from the clever -illustrations by their author. - -Wilhelm Busch, also a comic artist, born near Hanover, is the creator -of the Max and Maurice stories and pictures. - -He was a well-known contributor to the _Fliegende Blätter_, the -popular comic paper of Germany. - -A distinct type of German humor is found in their Student Songs. These, -oftener than not, are in praise of merrymaking and good cheer. - - - _POPE AND SULTAN_ - - The Pope he leads a happy life; - He fears not married care nor strife; - He drinks the best of Rhenish wine-- - I would the Pope’s gay lot were mine. - - - CHORUS - - He drinks the best of Rhenish wine-- - I would the Pope’s gay lot were mine. - - But then, all happy’s not his life; - He has not maid nor blooming wife, - Nor child has he to raise his hope-- - I would not wish to be the Pope. - - The Sultan better pleases me; - His is a life of jollity; - His wives are many as his will-- - I would the Sultan’s throne then fill. - - But even he’s a wretched man; - He must obey his Alcoran; - And dares not drink one drop of wine-- - I would not change his lot for mine. - - So, then, I’ll hold my lowly stand, - And live in German fatherland; - I’ll kiss my maiden fair and fine, - And drink the best of Rhenish wine. - - Whene’er my maiden kisses me, - I’ll think that I the Sultan be; - And when my cheery glass I tope, - I’ll fancy then I am the Pope. - - - _CREDO_ - - For the sole edification - Of this decent congregation, - Goodly people, by your grant - I will sing a holy chant, - I will sing a holy chant. - If the ditty sound but oddly, - ’Twas a father, wise and godly, - Sang it so long ago. - Then sing as Martin Luther sang: - “Who loves not woman, wine, and song, - Remains a fool his whole life long!” - - He, by custom patriarchal, - Loved to see the beaker sparkle; - And he thought the wine improved, - Tasted by the lips he loved, - By the kindly lips he loved. - Friends, I wish this custom pious - Duly were observed by us, - To combine love, song, wine, - And sing as Martin Luther sang, - As Doctor Martin Luther sang: - “Who loves not woman, wine and song, - Remains a fool his whole life long!” - - Who refuses this our _Credo_, - And who will not sing as we do, - Were he holy as John Knox, - I’d pronounce him heterodox, - I’d pronounce him heterodox, - And from out this congregation, - With a solemn commination, - Banish quick the heretic, - Who’ll not sing as Luther sang, - As Doctor Martin Luther sang: - “Who loves not woman, wine and song, - Remains a fool his whole life long!” - - - - - ITALIAN HUMOR - -The humorists of Italy in the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries are -few and far between. Carlo Goldoni and Count Carlo Gozzi were both -dramatists, the latter also a novelist, whose works show humor, but are -not available for quotation. - -Count Giacomo Leopardi, though himself a gloomy sort of person, left -some satirical writings tinged with wit. - - - _THE ACADEMY OF SYLLOGRAPHS_ - -The Academy of Syllographs, hold that it would be in the highest -degree expedient that men should retire as far as possible from the -conduct of the business of the world, and should gradually give -place to mechanical agency for the direction of human affairs. -Accordingly, resolved to contribute as far as lies in its power to this -consummation, it has determined to offer three prizes, to be awarded to -the persons who shall invent the best examples of the three machines -now to be described. - -The scope and object of the first of these automata shall be to -represent the person and discharge the functions of a friend who shall -not calumniate or jeer at his absent associate; who shall not fail to -take his part when he hears him censured or ridiculed; who shall not -prefer a reputation for wit, and the applause of men, to his duty to -friendship; who shall never, from love of gossip or mere ostentation -of superior knowledge, divulge a secret committed to his keeping; who -shall not abuse the intimacy or confidence of his fellow in order to -supplant or surpass him; who shall harbor no envy against his friend; -who shall guard his interests and help to repair his losses, and -shall be prompt to answer his call, and minister to his needs more -substantially than by empty professions. - -In the construction of this piece of mechanism it will be well to -study, among other things, the treatise on friendship by Cicero, as -well as that of Madame de Lambert. The Academy is of opinion that the -manufacture of such a machine ought not to prove impracticable or even -particularly difficult, for, besides the automata of Regiomontanus -and Vaucanson, there was at one time exhibited in London a mechanical -figure which drew portraits, and wrote to dictation; while there have -been more than one example of such machines capable of playing at -chess. Now, in the opinion of many philosophers human life is but a -game; nay, some hold that it is more shallow and more frivolous than -many other games, and that the principles of chess, for example, are -more in accordance with reason, and that its various moves are more -governed by wisdom, than are the actions of mankind; while we have it -on the authority of Pindar that human action is no more substantial -than the shadow of a dream; and this being so, the intelligence of an -automaton ought to prove quite equal to the discharge of the functions -which have just been described. - -As to the power of speech, it seems unreasonable to doubt that men -should have the power of communicating it to machines constructed by -themselves, seeing that this may be said to have been established by -sundry precedents, such, for example, as in the case of the statue -of Memnon, and of the human head manufactured by Albertus Magnus, -which actually became so loquacious that Saint Thomas Aquinas, losing -all patience with it, smashed it to pieces. Then, too, there was the -instance of the parrot Ver-Vert, though it was a living creature; but -if it could be taught to converse reasonably how much more may it be -supposed that a machine devised by the mind of man, and constructed -by his hands, should do as much; while it would have this advantage -that it might be made less garrulous than this parrot, or the head of -Albertus, and therefore it need not irritate its acquaintances and -provoke them to smash it. - -The inventor of the best example of such a machine shall be decorated -with a gold medallion of four hundred sequins in weight, bearing on its -face the images of Pylades and Orestes, and on the reverse the name of -the successful competitor, surrounded by the legend, FIRST REALIZER -OF THE FABLES OF ANTIQUITY. - -The second machine called for by the Academy is to be an artificial -steam man, so constructed and regulated as to perform virtuous and -magnanimous actions. The Academy is of opinion that in the absence of -all other adequate motive power to that end, the properties of steam -might prove effective to inspire an automaton, and direct it to the -attainment of virtue and true glory. The inventor who shall undertake -the construction of such a machine should study the poets and the -writers of romance, who will best guide him as to the qualities and -functions most essential to such a piece of mechanism. The prize shall -be a gold medal weighing four hundred and fifty sequins, bearing on its -obverse a figure symbolical of the golden age, and on its reverse the -name of the inventor. - -The third automaton should be so constituted as to perform the duties -of woman such as she was conceived by the Count Baldassar Castiglione, -and described by him in his treatise entitled _The Courtier_, as -well as by other writers in other works on the subject, which will be -readily found, and which, as well as that of the count, will have to -be carefully consulted and followed. The construction of a machine -of this nature, too, ought not to appear impossible to the inventors -of our time, when they reflect on the fact that in the most ancient -times, and times destitute of science, Pygmalion was able to fabricate -for himself, with his own hands, a wife of such rare gifts that she -has never since been equaled down to the present day. The successful -inventor of this machine shall be rewarded with a gold medal weighing -five hundred sequins, bearing on one face the figure of the Arabian -Phenix of Metastasio, couched on a tree of a European species, while -its other side will bear the name of the inventor, with the title, -INVENTOR OF FAITHFUL WOMEN AND OF CONJUGAL HAPPINESS. - -Finally, the Academy has resolved that the funds necessary to defray -the expenses incidental to this competition shall be supplemented by -all that was found in the purse of Diogenes, its first secretary, -together with one of the three golden asses which were the property -of three of its former members--namely, Apuleius, Firenzuola, and -Machiavelli, but which came into the possession of the Academy by the -last wills and testaments of the aforementioned, as duly recorded in -its minutes. - - * * * * * - -Antonio Ghislanzoni, an Italian journalist was possessed of a sort of -humor that would be a credit to any nation. It is not far removed from -the style of the early American jocularists. - -Ghislanzoni was an opera singer, but, losing his voice, he quitted the -stage, and founded a comic paper, _L’Uomo di Pietra._ - -His paper on Musical Instruments is so entertaining we quote it all. - - - _ON MUSICAL INSTRUMENTS_ - - - _The Clarinet_ - -This instrument consists of a severe cold in the head, contained in a -tube of yellow wood. - -The clarinet was not invented by the Conservatory, but by Fate. - -A chiropodist may be produced by study and hard work; but the -clarinet-player is born, not made. - -The citizen predestined to the clarinet has an intelligence which is -almost obtuse up to the age of eighteen--a period of incubation, when -he begins to feel in his nose the first thrills of his fatal vocation. - -After that his intellect--limited even then--ceases its development -altogether; but his nasal organ, in revenge, assumes colossal -dimensions. - -At twenty he buys his first clarinet for fourteen francs; and three -months later his landlord gives him notice. At twenty-five he is -admitted into the band of the National Guard. - -He dies of a broken heart on finding that not one of his three sons -shows the slightest inclination for the instrument through which he has -blown all his wits. - - - _The Trombone_ - -The man who plays on this instrument is always one who seeks oblivion -in its society--oblivion of domestic troubles, or consolation for love -betrayed. - -The man who has held a metal tube in his mouth for six months finds -himself proof against every illusion. - -At the age of fifty he finds that, of all human passions and feelings, -nothing is left him but an insatiable thirst. - -Later on, if he wants to obtain the position of porter in a gentleman’s -house, or aspires to the hand of a woman with a delicate ear, he tries -to lay aside his instrument, but the taste for loud notes and strong -liquors only leaves him with life. - - - _The Harmoniflute_ - -This instrument, on account of the nature of its monotonous sounds and -its tremendous plaintiveness, acts on the nerves of those who hear it, -and predisposes to melancholy those who play it. - -The harmoniflautist is usually tender and lymphatic of constitution, -with blue eyes, and eats only white meats and farinaceous food. - -If a man, he is called Oscar; those of the other sex are named Adelaide. - -At home, he or she is in the habit of bringing out the instrument at -dessert, and dinner being over, and the spirits of the family therefore -more or less cheerfully disposed, will entertain the company with the -“Miserere” in _Il Trovatore_, or some similar melody. - -The harmoniflautist weeps easily. After practising on the instrument -for fifteen years or so, he or she dissolves altogether, and is -converted into a brook. - - - _The Organ_ - -This complicated and majestic instrument is of a clerical character, -and destined, by its great volume of sound, to drown the flat singing -of clergy and congregation in church. - -The organist is usually a person sent into the world for the purpose -of making a great noise without undue expenditure of strength, one who -wants to blow harder than others without wearing out his own bellows. - -At forty he becomes the intimate friend of the parish priest, and the -most influential person connected with the church. By dint of repeating -the same refrains every day at matins and vespers, he acquires a -knowledge of Latin, and gets all the anthems, hymns, and masses by -heart. At fifty he marries a devout spinster recommended by the priest. - -He makes a kind and good-tempered husband, his only defect in that -capacity being his habit of dreaming out loud on the eve of every -church festival. On Easter Eve, for instance, he nearly always -awakens his wife by intoning, with the full force of his lungs, -_Resurrexit_. The good woman, thus abruptly aroused, never fails -to answer him with the orthodox _Alleluia_. - -At the age of sixty he becomes deaf, and then begins to think his own -playing perfection. At seventy he usually dies of a broken heart, -because the new priest, who knows not Joseph, instead of asking him -to dine at the principal table with the clergy and other church -authorities, has relegated him to an inferior place, and the society of -the sacristan and the grave-digger. - - - _The Flute_ - -The unhappy man who succumbs to the fascinations of this instrument is -never one who has attained the full development of his intellectual -faculties. He always has a pointed nose, marries a short-sighted woman, -and dies run over by an omnibus. - -The flute is the most deadly of all instruments. It requires a -peculiar conformation and special culture of the thumb-nail, with a -view to those holes which have to be only half closed. - -The man who plays the flute frequently adds to his other infirmities a -mania for keeping tame weasels, turtle-doves, or guinea-pigs. - - - _The Violoncello_ - -To play the ’cello, you require to have long, thin fingers; but it is -still more indispensable to have very long hair falling over a greasy -coat-collar. - -In case of fire, the ’cellist who sees his wife and his ’cello in -danger will save the latter first. - -His greatest satisfaction, as a general thing, is that of “making -the strings weep.” Sometimes, indeed, he succeeds in making his wife -and family do the same thing in consequence of a diet of excessive -frugality. Sometimes, too, he contrives to make people laugh or yawn, -but this, according to him, is the result of atmospheric influences. - -He can express, through his loftily attuned strings, all possible -griefs and sorrows, except those of his audience and his creditors. - - - _The Drum_ - -An immense apparatus of wood and sheepskin, full of air and of sinister -presages. In melodrama the roll of the drum serves to announce the -arrival of a fatal personage, an agent of Destiny, in most cases an -ill-used husband. Sometimes this funereal rumbling serves to describe -silence--sometimes to indicate the depths of the operatic heroine’s -despair. - -The drummer is a serious man, possessed with the sense of his high -dramatic mission. He is able, however, to conceal his conscious pride, -and sleep on his instrument when the rest of the orchestra is making -all the noise it can. In such cases he commissions the nearest of his -colleagues to awaken him at the proper moment. - -On awaking, he seizes the two drumsticks and begins to beat; but, -should his neighbor forget to rouse him, he prolongs his slumbers -till the fall of the curtain. Then he shakes himself, perceives that -the opera is over, and rubs his eyes. If it happens that the conductor -reprimands him for his remissness at the _attack_, he shrugs his -shoulders and replies, “Never mind, the tenor died, all the same. A -roll of the drum, more or less, what difference would it have made?” - - * * * * * - -Edmondo de Amicis, soldier and writer of books of travel, often gives -amusing descriptions of scenes or incidents. - - - _TOOTH FOR TOOTH_ - -An English merchant of Mogador was returning to the city on the evening -of a market-day, at the moment when the gate by which he was entering -was barred by a crowd of country people driving camels and asses. -Although the Englishman called out as loud as he could, “Make way!” -an old woman was struck by his horse and knocked down, falling with -her face upon a stone. Ill fortune would have it that in the fall she -broke her last two front teeth. She was stunned for an instant, and -then rose convulsed with rage, and broke out into insults and ferocious -maledictions, following the Englishman to his door. She then went -before the governor, and demanded that in virtue of the law of talion -he should order the English merchant’s two front teeth to be broken. -The governor tried to pacify her, and advised her to pardon the injury; -but she would listen to nothing, and he sent her away with a promise -that she should have justice, hoping that when her anger should be -exhausted she would herself desist from her pursuit. But, three days -having passed, the old woman came back more furious than ever, demanded -justice, and insisted that a formal sentence should be pronounced -against the Christian. - -“Remember,” said she to the governor, “thou didst promise me!” - -“What!” responded the governor; “dost thou take me for a Christian, -that I should be the slave of my word?” - -Every day for a month the old woman, athirst for vengeance, presented -herself at the door of the citadel, and yelled and cursed and made such -a noise, that the governor, to be rid of her, was obliged to yield. -He sent for the merchant, explained the case, the right which the law -gave the woman, the duty imposed upon himself, and begged him to put an -end to the matter by allowing two of his teeth to be removed--any two, -although in strict justice they should be two incisors. The Englishman -refused absolutely to part with incisors, or eye-teeth, or molars; and -the governor was obliged to send the old woman packing, ordering the -guard not to let her put her foot in the palace again. - -“Very well,” said she, “since there are none but degenerate Mussulmans -here, since justice is refused to a Mussulman woman against an infidel -dog, I will go to the sultan, and we shall see whether the prince of -the faithful will deny the law of the Prophet.” - -True to her determination, she started on her journey alone, with an -amulet in her bosom, a stick in her hand, and a bag round her neck, and -made on foot the hundred miles which separate Mogador from the sacred -city of the empire. Arrived at Fez, she sought and obtained audience of -the sultan, laid her case before him, and demanded the right accorded -by the Koran, the application of the law of retaliation. The sultan -exhorted her to forgive. She insisted. All the serious difficulties -which opposed themselves to the satisfaction of her petition were laid -before her. She remained inexorable. A sum of money was offered her, -with which she could live in comfort for the rest of her days. She -refused it. - -“What do I want with your money?” said she; “I am old, and accustomed -to live in poverty. What I want is the two teeth of the Christian. I -want them; I demand them in the name of the Koran. The sultan, prince -of the faithful, head of our religion, father of his subjects, cannot -refuse justice to a true believer.” - -Her obstinacy put the sultan in a most embarrassing position. The -law was formal, and her right incontestable; and the ferment of the -populace, stirred up by the woman’s fanatical declamations, rendered -refusal perilous. The sultan, who was Abd-er-Rahman, wrote to the -English consul, asking as a favor that he would induce his countryman -to allow two of his teeth to be broken. The merchant answered the -consul that he would never consent. Then the sultan wrote again, saying -that if he would consent he would grant him, in compensation, any -commercial privilege that he chose to ask. This time, touched in his -purse, the merchant yielded. The old woman left Fez, blessing the name -of the pious Abd-er-Rahman, and went back to Mogador, where, in the -presence of many people, the two teeth of the Nazarene were broken. -When she saw them fall to the ground she gave a yell of triumph, -and picked them up with a fierce joy. The merchant, thanks to the -privileges accorded him, made in the two following years so handsome a -fortune that he went back to England toothless, but happy. - - - - - SPANISH HUMOR - -The only illustrious name of a writer of humor in Spain in the -eighteenth century is that of the justly celebrated Thomas Yriarte. - -He is best known to English readers through his Literary Fables, which -have been frequently translated. - - - _THE ASS AND THE FLUTE_ - - You must know that this ditty, - This little romance, - Be it dull, be it witty, - Arose from mere chance. - - Near a certain inclosure, - Not far from my manse, - An ass, with composure, - Was passing by chance. - - As he went along prying, - With sober advance, - A shepherd’s lute lying, - He found there by chance. - - Our amateur started, - And eyed it askance, - Drew nearer, and snorted - Upon it by chance. - - The breath of the brute, sir, - Drew music for once; - It entered the flute, sir, - And blew it by chance. - - “Ah!” cried he, in wonder, - How comes this to pass? - Who will now dare to slander - The skill of an ass? - - And asses in plenty - I see at a glance, - Who, one time in twenty, - Succeed by mere chance. - - - _THE EGGS_ - - Beyond the sunny Philippines - An island lies, whose name I do not know; - But that’s of little consequence, if so - You understand that there they had no hens; - Till, by a happy chance, a traveler, - After a while, carried some poultry there. - Fast they increased as any one could wish; - Until fresh eggs became the common dish. - But all the natives ate them boiled--they say-- - Because the stranger taught no other way. - At last the experiment by one was tried-- - Sagacious man!--of having his eggs fried. - And, O! what boundless honors for his pains, - His fruitful and inventive fancy gains! - Another, now, to have them baked devised-- - Most happy thought!--and still another, spiced. - Who ever thought eggs were so delicate! - Next, some one gave his friends an omelette: - “Ah!” all exclaimed, “what an ingenious feat!” - But scarce a year went by, an artiste shouts, - “I have it now--ye’re all a pack of louts!-- - With nice tomatoes all my eggs are stewed.” - And the whole island thought the mode so good, - That they would so have cooked them to this day, - But that a stranger wandered out that way, - Another dish the gaping natives taught, - And showed them eggs cooked _à la Huguenot_. - Successive cooks thus proved their skill diverse; - But how shall I be able to rehearse - All of the new, delicious condiments - That luxury, from time to time, invents? - Soft, hard, and dropped, and now with sugar sweet, - And now boiled up with milk, the eggs they eat; - In sherbet, in preserves; at last they tickle - Their palates fanciful with eggs in pickle. - All had their day--the last was still the best. - But a grave senior thus, one day, addressed - The epicures: “Boast, ninnies, if you will, - These countless prodigies of gastric skill-- - But blessings on the man who brought the hens!” - - Beyond the sunny Philippines - Our crowd of modern authors need not go - New-fangled modes of cooking eggs to show. - - - _THE COUNTRY SQUIRE_ - - A country squire, of greater wealth than wit - (For fools are often bless’d with fortune’s smile), - Had built a splendid house, and furnish’d it - In splendid style. - - “One thing is wanted,” said a friend; “for, though - The rooms are fine, the furniture profuse, - You lack a library, dear sir, for show, - If not for use.” - - “’Tis true; but, zounds!” replied the squire with glee, - “The lumber-room in yonder northern wing - (I wonder I ne’er thought of it) will be - The very thing. - - “I’ll have it fitted up without delay - With shelves and presses of the newest mode - And rarest wood, befitting every way - A squire’s abode. - - “And when the whole is ready, I’ll despatch - My coachman--a most knowing fellow--down, - To buy me, by admeasurement, a batch - Of books in town.” - - But ere the library was half supplied - With all its pomp of cabinet and shelf, - The booby Squire repented him, and cried, - Unto himself:-- - - “This room is much more roomy than I thought; - Ten thousand volumes hardly would suffice - To fill it, and would cost, however bought, - A plaguy price. - - “Now, as I only want them for their looks, - It might, on second thoughts, be just as good, - And cost me next to nothing, if the books - Were made of wood. - - “It shall be so. I’ll give the shaven deal - A coat of paint--a colourable dress, - To look like calf or vellum and conceal - Its nakedness. - - “And gilt and letter’d with the author’s name, - Whatever is most excellent and rare - Shall be, or seem to be (’tis all the same) - Assembled there.” - - The work was done; the simulated hoards - Of wit and wisdom round the chamber stood, - In bindings some; and some, of course, in _boards_, - Where all were wood. - - From bulky folios down to slender twelves, - The choicest tomes in many an even row, - Display’d their letter’d backs upon the shelves, - A goodly show. - - With such a stock, which seemingly surpass’d - The best collection ever form’d in Spain, - What wonder if the owner grew at last - Supremely vain? - - What wonder, as he paced from shelf to shelf, - And conn’d their titles, that the Squire began, - Despite his ignorance, to think himself - A learned man? - - Let every amateur, who merely looks - To backs and bindings, take the hint and sell - His costly library; for painted books - Would serve as well. - -There were other Spaniards, doubtless, who possessed humor or wit, but -the only available translations of their plays or stories are too long -for quotation. - - - - - RUSSIAN HUMOR - -A glance at Russia in the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries shows -the great popularity of the Fable as a means of expressing the wit and -wisdom of the philosophers. - -The two greatest Fabulists were Ivan Chemnitzer or Khemnitzer and Ivan -Kryloff. - -Alexander Griboyedoff was a writer of comedies. - - - IVAN CHEMNITZER - - - _THE PHILOSOPHER_ - -A certain rich man, who had heard it was an advantage to have been at -school abroad, sent his son to study in foreign parts. The son, who -was an utter fool, came back more stupid than ever, having been taught -all sorts of elaborate explanations of the simplest things by a lot of -academical windbags. He expressed himself only in scientific terms, so -that no one understood him, and everyone became very tired of him. - -One day, while walking along a road, and gazing at the sky in -speculating upon some problem of the universe to which the answer had -never been found (because there was none), the young man stepped over -the edge of a deep ditch. His father, who chanced to be near by, ran -to get a rope. The son, however, sitting at the bottom of the ditch, -began to meditate on the cause of his fall. He concluded that _an -earthquake had superinduced a momentary displacement of his corporeal -axis, thus destroying his equilibrium, and, in obedience to the law of -gravity as established by Newton, precipitating him downward until he -encountered an immovable obstacle_--namely, the bottom of the ditch. - -When his father arrived with the rope, the following dialogue took -place between them: - -“I have brought a rope to pull you out with. There, now, hold on tight -to that end, and don’t let go while I pull.” - -“A rope? Please inform me what a rope is before you pull.” - -“A rope is a thing to get people out of ditches with, when they have -fallen in and can’t get out by themselves.” - -“But how is it that no mechanical device has been constructed for that -purpose?” - -“That would take time; but you will not have to wait until then. Now, -then----” - -“Time? Please explain first what you mean by time.” - -“Time is something that I am not going to waste on a fool like you. So -you may stay where you are until I come back.” - -Upon which the man went off, and left his foolish son to himself. - -Now, would it not be a good thing if all eloquent windbags were -gathered together and thrown into the ditch, to keep him company? Yes, -surely. Only it would take a much larger ditch than that to hold them. - --_The Fables._ - - - _THE LION’S COUNCIL OF STATE_ - - A Lion held a court for state affairs. - Why? That is not your business, sir--’twas theirs. - He called the elephants for councilors. Still - The council-board was incomplete, - And the king deemed it fit - With asses all the vacancies to fill. - Heaven help the state, for lo! the bench of asses - The bench of elephants by far surpasses. - “He was a fool, th’ aforesaid king,” you’ll say; - “Better have kept those places vacant, surely, - Than to have filled ’em up so very poorly.” - - Oh, no, that’s not the royal way; - Things have been done for ages thus, and we - Have a deep reverence for antiquity. - Naught worse, sir, than to be, or to appear, - Wiser and better than our fathers were! - The list must be complete, e’en though you make it - Complete with asses--for the lion saw - Such had through all the ages been the law. - He was no radical to break it; - - “Besides,” said he, “my elephants’ good sense - Will soon my asses’ ignorance diminish, - For wisdom has a mighty influence.” - They made a pretty finish! - The asses’ folly soon obtained the sway: - The elephants became as dull as they! - - - IVAN KRYLOV - - - _THE SWAN, THE PIKE, AND THE CRAB_ - - Whene’er companions don’t agree, - They work without accord; - And naught but trouble doth result, - Although they all work hard. - - One day a swan, a pike, a crab, - Resolved a load to haul; - All three were harnessed to the cart, - And pulled together all. - But though they pulled with all their might, - The cart-load on the bank stuck tight. - The swan pulled upward to the skies; - The crab did backward crawl; - The pike made for the water straight-- - It proved no use at all! - - Now, which of them was most to blame, - ’Tis not for me to say; - But this I know: the load is there - Unto this very day. - - - _THE MUSICIANS_ - -The tricksy monkey, the goat, the ass, and bandy-legged Mishka, the -bear, determined to play a quartet. They provided themselves with the -necessary instruments--two fiddles, an alto, and a bass. Then they all -settled down under a large tree, with the object of dazzling the world -by their artistic performance. They fiddled away lustily for some time, -but only succeeded in making a noise, and no music. - -“Stop, my friends!” said the monkey, “this will not do; our music does -not sound as it ought. It is plain that we are in the wrong positions. -You, Mishka, take your bass and face the alto; I will go opposite the -second fiddle. Then we shall play altogether differently, so that the -very hills and forests will dance.” - -So they changed places, and began over again. But they produced only -discords, as before. - -“Wait a moment!” exclaimed the ass; “I know what the matter is. We must -get in a row, and then we shall play in tune.” - -This advice was acted upon. The four animals placed themselves in a -straight line, and struck up once more. - -The quartet was as unmusical as ever. Then they stopped again, and -began squabbling and wrangling about the proper positions to be taken. -It happened that a nightingale came flying by that way, attracted by -their din. They begged the nightingale to solve their difficulty for -them. - -“Pray be so kind,” they said, “as to stay a moment, so that we may get -our quartet in order. We have music and we have instruments; only tell -us how to place ourselves.” - -To which the nightingale replied: - -“To be a musician, one must have a better ear and more intelligence -than any of you. Place yourselves any way you like; it will make no -difference. You will never become musicians.” - - * * * * * - -Fedor Dostoevsky was a celebrated Russian novelist and journalist. - -We quote a small extract, which, it may be, depends in part for its fun -on its excellent English rendition of the German patter. - - - _FROM KARLCHEN, THE CROCODILE_ - -At this moment an appalling, I may even say supernatural, shriek -suddenly shook the room. Not knowing what to think, I stood for a -moment rooted to the spot; then, hearing Elyona Ivanovna shrieking, -too, I turned hastily round; and what did I see! I saw--oh, heavens!--I -saw the unhappy Ivan Matvyeich in the fearful jaws of the crocodile, -seized across the middle, lifted horizontally in the air, and kicking -despairingly. Then--a moment--and he was gone! - -I cannot even attempt to describe the agitation of Elyona Ivanovna. -After her first cry she stood for some time as petrified, and stared -at the scene before her, as if indifferently, though her eyes were -starting out of her head; then she suddenly burst into a piercing -shriek. I caught her by the hands. At this moment the keeper, who -until now had also stood petrified with horror, clasped his hands, and -raising his eyes to heaven cried aloud: - -“Oh, my crocodile! Oh, mein allerliebstes Karlchen! Mutter! Mutter! -Mutter!” - -At this cry the back door opened, and “Mutter,” a red-cheeked, untidy, -elderly woman in a cap, rushed with a yell toward her son. - -Then began an awful tumult. Elyona Ivanovna, beside herself, reiterated -one single phrase, “Cut it! Cut it!” and rushed from the keeper to the -“Mutter,” and back to the keeper, imploring them (evidently in a fit -of frenzy) to “cut” something or some one for some reason. Neither the -keeper nor “Mutter” took any notice of either of us; they were hanging -over the tank, and shrieking like stuck pigs. - -“He is gone dead; he vill sogleich burst, because he von ganz official -of der government eat up haf!” cried the keeper. - -“Unser Karlchen, unser allerliebstes Karlchen wird sterben!” wailed the -mother. - -“Ve are orphans, vitout bread!” moaned the keeper. - -“Cut it! Cut it! Cut it open!” screamed Elyona Ivanovna, hanging on to -the German’s coat. - -“He did teaze ze crocodile! Vy your man teaze ze crocodile?” yelled the -German, wriggling away. “You vill pay me if Karlchen wird bersten! Das -war mein Sohn, das war mein einziger Sohn!” - -“Cut it!” shrieked Elyona Ivanovna. - -“How! You vill dat my crocodile shall be die? No, your man shall be -die first, and denn my crocodile. Mein Vater show von crocodile, mein -Grossvater show von crocodile, mein Sohn shall show von crocodile, and -I shall show von crocodile. All ve shall show crocodile. I am ganz -Europa famous, and you are not ganz Europa famous, and you do be me von -fine pay shall!” - -“Ja, ja!” agreed the woman savagely; “ve you not let out; fine ven -Karlchen vill bersten.” - -“For that matter,” I put in calmly, in the hope of getting Elyona -Ivanovna home without further ado, “there’s no use in cutting it open, -for in all probability our dear Ivan Matvyeich is now soaring in the -empyrean.” - -“My dear,” remarked at this moment the voice of Ivan Matvyeich, with -startling suddenness, “my advice, my dear, is to act through the bureau -of police, for the German will not comprehend the truth without the -assistance of the police.” - -These words, uttered with firmness and gravity, and expressing -astonishing presence of mind, at first so much amazed us that we could -not believe our ears. Of course, however, we instantly ran to the -crocodile’s tank and listened to the speech of the unfortunate captive -with a mixture of reverence and distrust. His voice sounded muffled, -thin, and even squeaky, as though coming from a long distance. - -“Ivan Matvyeich, my dearest, are you alive?” lisped Elyona Ivanovna. - -“Alive and well,” answered Ivan Matvyeich; “and, thanks to the -Almighty, swallowed whole without injury. I am only disturbed by -doubt as to how the superior authorities will regard this episode; -for, after having taken a ticket to go abroad, to go into a crocodile -instead is hardly sensible.” - -“Oh, my dear, don’t worry about sense now; first of all we must somehow -or other dig you out,” interrupted Elyona Ivanovna. - -“Tig!” cried the German. “I not vill let you to tig ze crocodile! Now -shall bery mush Publikum be come, and I shall fifety copeck take, and -Karlchen shall leave off to burst.” - -“Gott sei Dank!” added the mother. - -“They are right,” calmly remarked Ivan Matvyeich; “the economic -principle before everything.” - - * * * * * - -Nikolai Nekrasov wrote light verse of a whimsical trend. - - - _A MORAL MAN_ - - A strictly moral man have I been ever, - And never injured anybody--never. - I lent my friend a sum he could not pay; - I jogged his memory in a friendly way, - Then took the law of him th’ affair to end; - The law to prison sent my worthy friend. - He died there--not a farthing for poor me! - I am not angry, though I’ve cause to be; - His debt that very moment I forgave, - And shed sad tears of sorrow o’er his grave. - A strictly moral man have I been ever, - And never injured anybody--never. - - I sent a serf of mine to learn the dressing - Of meat. He learned it--a good cook’s a blessing-- - But strangely did neglect his occupation, - And gained a taste not suited to his station: - He liked to read, to reason, to discuss. - I, tired of scolding, without further fuss - Had the rogue flogged--all for the love of him. - He went and drowned himself--what a strange whim! - A strictly moral man have I been ever, - And never injured anybody--never. - - My silly daughter fell in love, one day, - And with a tutor wished to run away. - I threatened curses, and pronounced my ban; - She yielded, and espoused a rich old man. - Their house was splendid, brimming o’er with wealth, - But suddenly the poor child lost her health, - And in a year consumption wrought her doom; - She left us mourning o’er her early tomb. - A strictly moral man have I been ever, - And never injured anybody--never. - - * * * * * - -Ivan Turgenieff, the celebrated novelist, wrote also delightfully witty -_Poems in Prose_. - - - _BENEFICENCE AND GRATITUDE_ - -One day the Supreme Being took it into His head to give a great banquet -in His azure palace. - -All the virtues were invited. Men He did not ask--only ladies. - -There was a large number of them, great and small. The lesser virtues -were more agreeable and genial than the great ones; but they all -appeared to be in good-humor, and chatted amiably together, as was only -becoming for near relations and friends. - -But the Supreme Being noticed two charming ladies who seemed to be -totally unacquainted. - -The Host gave one of the ladies His arm, and led her up to the other. - -“Beneficence!” He said, indicating the first. - -“Gratitude!” He added, indicating the second. - -Both the virtues were amazed beyond expression. Ever since the world -had stood--and it had been standing a long time--this was the first -time they had met. - - - _PRAYER_ - -Whatever a man prays for, he prays for a miracle. Every prayer reduces -itself to this: “Great God, grant that twice two be not four.” - -Anton Chekov, writer of humorous stories, is also happy in epigrammatic -wit. - - - _PROVERBIAL WISDOM_ - -The worst brandy is better than water. - -The path to the law court is wide; the path away from it is narrow. - -Even when drowning, a man wants company. - -Cherish your wife as you would your salvation, and beat her as you -would your coat. - -A bad peace is superior to a good quarrel. - -Spare the peasant your lash, but not his rubles. - -Poverty is not a sin, but it’s a great deal worse. - -In a storm, pray to the Lord and keep on rowing as hard as you can. - -A sparrow is small; still, it’s a bird. - -If your wife were a guitar, you could hang her up after playing. - - * * * * * - -Casting about for other foreign countries that might offer bits of -humor written in the eighteenth or nineteenth century, we come across -this from a Polish author named Kajetan Wengierski. - - - _THE DREAM-WIFE_ - - Strangely ’wildered must I seem; - I was married--in a dream. - Oh, the ecstasy of bliss! - Brother, what a joy is this! - Think about it, and confess - ’Tis a storm of happiness, - And the memory is to me - Sunbeams. But fifteen was she: - Cheeks of roses red and white; - Mouth like Davia’s; eyes of light, - Fiery, round, of raven hue, - Swimming, but coquettish too; - Ivory teeth; lips fresh as dew; - Bosom beauteous; hand of down; - Fairy foot. She stood alone - In her graces. She was mine, - And I drank her charms divine. - - * * * * * - - Yet, in early years our schemes - Are, alas! but shadowy dreams. - For a season they deceive, - Then our souls in darkness leave. - Oft the bowl the water bears, - But ’tis useless soon with years; - First it cracks, and then it leaks, - And at last--at last it breaks. - All things with beginning tend - To their melancholy end: - So her beauty fled. - - * * * * * - - Then did anger, care, and malice - Mingle up their bitter chalice. - Riches like the whirlwind flew, - Honors, gifts, and friendships too; - And my lovely wife, so mild, - Fortune’s frail and flattered child, - Spent our wealth, as if the day - Ne’er would dim or pass away; - And--oh, monstrous thought!--the fair - Scratched my eyes and tore my hair. - Naught but misery was our guest. - Then I sought the parish priest: - “Father, grant me a divorce. - Nay, you’ll grant it me, of course; - Reasons many can be given-- - Reasons both of earth and heaven.” - - “I know all you wish to say. - Have you wherewithal to pay? - Money is a thing, of course-- - Money may obtain divorce.” - “Reverend father, hear me, please ye-- - ’Tis not an affair so easy.” - “Silence, child! Where money’s needed, - Eloquence is superseded.” - Then I talked of morals, but - The good father’s ears were shut. - With a fierce and frowning look - Off he drove me--And I woke. - -And lacking adequate translation for any more of the humorous -literature of far away lands, we conclude this portion of our Outline -with some Epigrams of the people of Hayti. - -You can’t catch a flea with one finger. - - * * * * * - -The snake that wants to live does not keep to the highroad. - - * * * * * - -You should never blame the owner of a goat for claiming it. - - * * * * * - -The ears do not weigh more than the head. - - * * * * * - -Wait till you are across the river before you call the alligator names. - - * * * * * - -If the tortoise that comes up from the bottom of the water tells you an -alligator is blind, you may believe him. - - * * * * * - -A frog in want of a shirt will ask for a pair of drawers. - - * * * * * - -The ox never says “Thank you” to the pasture. - - * * * * * - -Joke with a monkey as much as you please, but don’t play with its tail. - -What business have eggs dancing with stones? - - * * * * * - -If you insist on punishing an enemy, do not make him fetch water in a -basket. - - * * * * * - -The wild hog knows what tree he is rubbing against. - - * * * * * - -Hang your knapsack where you can reach it. - - * * * * * - -The pumpkin vine does not yield calabashes. - - * * * * * - -Every jack-knife found on the highway will be lost on the highway. - - * * * * * - -All wood is wood, but deal is not cedar. - - * * * * * - -It is the frog’s own tongue that betrays him. - - * * * * * - -The spoon goes to the tray’s house, but the tray never goes to the -spoon’s house. - - * * * * * - -If you want your eggs hatched, sit on them yourself. - - - - - AMERICAN HUMOR - -There may have been previous mute, inglorious Miltons, but doubtless -the first American to be recognized as a true humorist was Benjamin -Franklin. - -In fact, one of the foremost essayists of the present day opines that -the reason Franklin was not called upon to write the Declaration of -Independence was because he was too fond of his joke. - -“They were acute,” our essayist remarks, “those leaders of the -Continental Congress, and they knew that every man has the defect -of his qualities, and that a humorist is likely to be lacking in -reverence, and that the writer of the Declaration of Independence had a -theme which demanded most reverential treatment.” - -It is generally conceded that the Americans are a humorous nation, is -even said that we have a way of living humorously, and are conscious of -the fact. - -Aside from the annual work known as _Poor Richard’s Almanack_, Franklin -wrote much prose and verse of a witty character. - -A letter of his gave rise to the well known saying, “He paid too much -for his whistle.” - -Part of the letter is here given. - -“When I was a child of seven years old, my friends on a holiday filled -my pocket with coppers. I went directly to a shop where they sold toys -for children; and, being charmed with the sound of a _whistle_ that I -met by the way in the hands of another boy, I voluntarily offered and -gave all my money for one. I then came home, and went whistling all -over the house, much pleased with my _whistle_, but disturbing all -the family. My brothers and sisters and cousins, understanding the -bargain I had made, told me I had given four times as much for it as -it was worth; put me in mind what good things I might have bought with -the rest of the money, and laughed at me so much for my folly, that I -cried with vexation; and the reflection gave me more chagrin than the -_whistle_ gave me pleasure. - -“This, however, was afterward of use to me, the impression continuing -on my mind, so that often, when I was tempted to buy some unnecessary -thing, I said to myself, _Don’t give too much for the whistle_; and I -saved my money. - -“As I grew up, came into the world, and observed the actions of men, I -thought I met with many, very many, who _gave too much for the whistle_. - -“When I saw one too ambitious to court favor, sacrificing his time in -attendance on levees, his repose, his liberty, his virtue, and perhaps -his friends, to attain it, I have said to myself, _This man gives too -much for his whistle_. - -“When I saw another fond of popularity, constantly employing himself in -political bustles, neglecting his own affairs and ruining them by that -neglect, _He pays, indeed_, said I, _too much for his whistle_. - -“If I knew a miser, who gave up any kind of a comfortable living, -all the pleasure of doing good to others, all the esteem of his -fellow-citizens, and the joys of benevolent friendship, for the sake -of accumulating wealth, _Poor man_, said I, _you pay too much for your -whistle_. - -“When I met with a man of pleasure, sacrificing every laudable -improvement of the mind, or of his fortune, to mere corporal -sensations, and ruining his health in their pursuit, _Mistaken man_, -said I, _you are providing pain for yourself instead of pleasure! you -give too much for your whistle_. - -“If I see one fond of appearance, or fine clothes, fine houses, -fine furniture, fine equipages, all above his fortune, for which he -contracts debts, and ends his career in a prison, _Alas!_ say I, _he -has paid dear, very dear, for his whistle_. - -“When I see a beautiful, sweet-tempered girl married to an ill-natured -brute of a husband, _What a pity_, say I, _that she should pay so much -for a whistle_! - -“In short, I conceive that great part of the miseries of mankind are -brought upon them by the false estimates they have made of the value of -things, and by their _giving too much for their whistles_. - -“Yet I ought to have charity for these unhappy people, when I consider, -that with all this wisdom of which I am boasting, there are certain -things in the world so tempting, for example, the apples of King John, -which happily are not to be bought; for if they were put up to sale by -auction, I might very easily be led to ruin myself in the purchase, and -find that I had once more given too much for the _whistle_. - -“Adieu, my dear friend, and believe me ever yours, very sincerely and -with unalterable affection.” - - B. FRANKLIN. - - - _PAPER_ - - Some wit of old--such wits of old there were-- - Whose hints show’d meaning, whose allusions care, - By one brave stroke to mark all human kind, - Call’d clear blank paper every infant mind; - Where still, as opening sense her dictates wrote, - Fair virtue put a seal, or vice a blot. - - The thought was happy, pertinent, and true; - Methinks a genius might the plan pursue. - I (can you pardon my presumption?) I-- - No wit, no genius, yet for once will try. - - Various the papers various wants produce, - The wants of fashion, elegance, and use. - Men are as various; and if right I scan, - Each sort of _paper_ represents some man. - - Pray note the fop--half powder and half lace-- - Nice as a band-box were his dwelling-place: - He’s the _gilt paper_, which apart you store, - And lock from vulgar hands in the ’scrutoire. - - Mechanics, servants, farmers, and so forth, - Are _copy-paper_, of inferior worth; - Less prized, more useful, for your desk decreed, - Free to all pens, and prompt at every need. - - The wretch, whom avarice bids to pinch and spare, - Starve, cheat, and pilfer, to enrich an heir, - Is coarse _brown paper!_ such as pedlars choose - To wrap up wares, which better men will use. - - Take next the miser’s contrast, who destroys - Health, fame, and fortune, in a round of joys. - Will any paper match him? Yes, throughout, - He’s true _sinking-paper_, past all doubt. - - The retail politician’s anxious thought - Deems _this_ side always right, and _that_ stark naught; - He foams with censure; with applause he raves-- - A dupe to rumors, and a tool of knaves; - He’ll want no type his weakness to proclaim, - While such a thing as _foolscap_ has a name. - - The hasty gentleman, whose blood runs high, - Who picks a quarrel, if you step awry, - Who can’t a jest, or hint, or look endure: - What is he? What? _Touch-paper_ to be sure. - - What are our poets, take them as they fall, - Good, bad, rich, poor, much read, not read at all? - Them and their works in the same class you’ll find; - They are the mere _waste-paper_ of mankind. - - Observe the maiden, innocently sweet, - She’s fair _white-paper_, an unsullied sheet; - On which the happy man, whom fate ordains, - May write his _name_, and take her for his pains. - - One instance more, and only one I’ll bring; - ’Tis the _great man_ who scorns a little thing, - Whose thoughts, whose deeds, whose maxims are his own, - Form’d on the feelings of his heart alone: - True genuine _royal-paper_ is his breast: - Of all the kinds most precious, purest, best. - -Francis Hopkinson, a writer of miscellaneous essays, wrote “The Battle -of the Keys,” which was founded upon a real historic incident. - - - _THE BATTLE OF THE KEYS_ - - Gallants attend and hear a friend - Trill forth harmonious ditty, - Strange things I’ll tell which late befell - In Philadelphia city. - - ’Twas early day, as poets say, - Just when the sun was rising, - A soldier stood on a log of wood, - And saw a thing surprising. - - As in amaze he stood and gazed, - The truth can’t be denied, sir, - He spied a score of kegs or more - Come floating down the tide, sir. - - A sailor, too, in jerkin blue, - This strange appearance viewing, - First damned his eyes, in great surprise, - Then said, “Some mischief’s brewing. - - “These kegs, I’m told, the rebles hold, - Packed up like pickled herring; - And they’re come down to attack the town, - In this new way of ferrying.” - - The soldier flew, the sailor too, - And scared almost to death, sir, - Wore out their shoes, to spread the news, - And ran till out of breath, sir. - - Now up and down throughout the town, - Most frantic scenes were acted; - And some ran here, and others there, - Like men almost distracted. - - Some “fire” cried, which some denied, - But said the earth had quaked; - And girls and boys, with hideous noise, - Ran through the streets half-naked. - - Sir William he, snug as a flea, - Lay all this time a-snoring, - Nor dreamed of harm as he lay warm, - In bed with Mrs. Loring. - - Now in a fright he starts upright, - Awaked by such a clatter; - He rubs both eyes, and boldly cries, - “For God’s sake, what’s the matter?” - - At his bedside he then espied, - Sir Erskine at command, sir, - Upon one foot he had one boot, - And th’ other in his hand, sir. - - “Arise, arise!” Sir Erskine cries, - “The rebels--more’s the pity, - Without a boat are all afloat, - And ranged before the city. - - “The motley crew, in vessels new, - With Satan for their guide, sir, - Packed up in bags, or wooden kegs, - Come driving down the tide, sir. - - “Therefore prepare for bloody war, - The kegs must all be routed, - Or surely we despised shall be, - And British courage doubted.” - - The royal band now ready stand, - All ranged in dead array, sir, - With stomach stout to see it out, - And make a bloody day, sir. - - The cannons roar from shore to shore, - The small arms make a rattle; - Since wars began I’m sure no man - E’er saw so strange a battle. - - The rebel dales, the rebel vales, - With rebel trees surrounded, - The distant woods, the hills and floods, - With rebel echoes sounded. - - The fish below swam to and fro, - Attacked from every quarter; - Why sure, thought they, the devil’s to pay - ’Mongst folks above the water. - - The kegs, ’tis said, though strongly made - Of rebel staves and hoops, sir, - Could not oppose their powerful foes, - And conquering British troops, sir. - - From morn to night these men of might - Displayed amazing courage; - And when the sun was fairly down, - Retired to sup their porridge. - - A hundred men with each a pen, - Or more, upon my word, sir, - It is most true would be too few, - Their valor to record, sir. - - Such feats did they perform that day, - Against these wicked kegs, sir, - That, years to come, if they get home, - They’ll make their boasts and brags, sir. - --_Miscellaneous Essays and Occasional Writings._ - -Elizabeth Graeme Ferguson, one of the earliest women writers of our -country, like many of her contemporaries, kept the style and effect of -English poetry. Her lines on the Country Parson, show a fine vein of -satire. - - - _THE COUNTRY PARSON_ - - How happy is the country parson’s lot! - Forgetting bishops, as by them forgot; - Tranquil of spirit, with an easy mind, - To all his vestry’s votes he sits resigned: - Of manners gentle, and of temper even, - He jogs his flocks, with easy pace, to heaven. - In Greek and Latin, pious books he keeps; - And, while his clerk sings psalms, he--soundly sleeps. - His garden fronts the sun’s sweet orient beams, - And fat church-wardens prompt his golden dreams. - The earliest fruit, in his fair orchard, blooms; - And cleanly pipes pour out tobacco’s fumes. - From rustic bridegroom oft he takes the ring; - And hears the milkmaid plaintive ballads sing. - Back-gammon cheats whole winter nights away, - And Pilgrim’s Progress helps a rainy day. - - President John Quincy Adams so far relaxed from his political - dignity as to write light verse. - - - _TO SALLY_ - - The man in righteousness arrayed, - A pure and blameless liver, - Needs not the keen Toledo blade, - Nor venom-freighted quiver. - What though he winds his toilsome way - O’er regions wild and weary-- - Through Zara’s burning desert stray, - Or Asia’s jungles dreary: - - What though he plough the billowy deep - By lunar light, or solar, - Meet the resistless Simoon’s sweep, - Or iceberg circumpolar! - In bog or quagmire deep and dank - His foot shall never settle; - He mounts the summit of Mont Blanc, - Or Popocatapetl. - - On Chimborazo’s breathless height - He treads o’er burning lava; - Or snuffs the Bohan Upas blight, - The deathful plant of Java. - Through every peril he shall pass, - By Virtue’s shield protected; - And still by Truth’s unerring glass - His path shall be directed. - - Else wherefore was it, Thursday last, - While strolling down the valley, - Defenceless, musing as I passed - A canzonet to Sally, - A wolf, with mouth-protruding snout, - Forth from the thicket bounded-- - I clapped my hands and raised a shout-- - He heard--and fled--confounded. - - Tangier nor Tunis never bred - An animal more crabbed; - Nor Fez, dry-nurse of lions, fed - A monster half so rabid; - Nor Ararat so fierce a beast - Has seen since days of Noah; - Nor stronger, eager for a feast, - The fell constrictor boa. - - Oh! place me where the solar beam - Has scorched all verdure vernal; - Or on the polar verge extreme, - Blocked up with ice eternal-- - Still shall my voice’s tender lays - Of love remain unbroken; - And still my charming Sally praise, - Sweet smiling and sweet spoken. - -About this time, Clement C. Moore wrote the Christmas story which has -since become a national classic. - - - _A VISIT FROM ST. NICHOLAS_ - - ’Twas the night before Christmas, when all through the house - Not a creature was stirring, not even a mouse; - The stockings were hung by the chimney with care, - In hopes that St. Nicholas soon would be there; - The children were nestled all snug in their beds, - While visions of sugar-plums danced in their heads; - And mamma in her ’kerchief, and I in my cap - Had just settled our brains for a long winter’s nap, - When out on the lawn there arose such a clatter, - I sprang from the bed to see what was the matter. - Away to the window I flew like a flash, - Tore open the shutters and threw up the sash. - The moon on the breast of the new-fallen snow - Gave the lustre of mid-day to objects below, - When, what to my wondering eyes should appear, - But a miniature sleigh, and eight tiny reindeer, - With a little old driver, so lively and quick, - I knew in a moment it must be St. Nick. - More rapid than eagles his coursers they came, - And he whistled, and shouted, and called them by name; - “Now, _Dasher!_ now, _Dancer!_ now, _Prancer_ and _Vixen!_ - On, _Comet!_ on, _Cupid!_ on, _Dunder_ and _Blitzen!_ - To the top of the porch! to the top of the wall! - Now dash away! dash away! dash away all!” - As dry leaves that before the wild hurricane fly, - When they meet with an obstacle, mount to the sky; - So up to the house-top the coursers they flew, - With the sleigh full of Toys, and St. Nicholas too. - And then, in a twinkling, I heard on the roof - The prancing and pawing of each little hoof. - As I drew in my head, and was turning around, - Down the chimney St. Nicholas came with a bound. - He was dressed all in fur, from his head to his foot, - And his clothes were all tarnished with ashes and soot; - A bundle of Toys he had flung on his back, - And he looked like a pedler just opening his pack. - His eyes--how they twinkled! his dimples how merry! - His cheeks were like roses, his nose like a cherry! - His droll little mouth was drawn up like a bow, - And the beard of his chin was as white as the snow; - The stump of a pipe he held tight in his teeth, - And the smoke it encircled his head like a wreath; - He had a broad face and a little round belly, - That shook when he laughed, like a bowlful of jelly. - He was chubby and plump, a right jolly old elf, - And I laughed when I saw him, in spite of myself; - A wink of his eye and a twist of his head, - Soon gave me to know I had nothing to dread; - He spoke not a word, but went straight to his work, - And filled all the stockings; then turned with a jerk, - And laying his finger aside of his nose, - And giving a nod, up the chimney he rose; - He sprang to his sleigh, to his team gave a whistle, - And away they all flew like the down of a thistle. - But I heard him exclaim, ere he drove out of sight, - _“Happy Christmas to all, and to all a good-night_.” - -Washington Irving, though his work is besprinkled with humor cannot be -quoted at length. - -A bit of his gay verse is given. - - - _A CERTAIN YOUNG LADY_ - - There’s a certain young lady, - Who’s just in her heyday, - And full of all mischief, I ween; - So teasing! so pleasing! - Capricious! delicious! - And you know very well whom I mean. - - With an eye dark as night, - Yet than noonday more bright, - Was ever a black eye so keen? - It can thrill with a glance, - With a beam can entrance, - And you know very well whom I mean. - - With a stately step--such as - You’d expect in a duchess-- - And a brow might distinguish a queen, - With a mighty proud air, - That says “touch me who dare,” - And you know very well whom I mean. - - With a toss of the head - That strikes one quite dead, - But a smile to revive one again; - That toss so appalling! - That smile so enthralling! - And you know very well whom I mean. - - Confound her! devil take her!-- - A cruel heart-breaker-- - But hold! see that smile so serene. - God love her! God bless her! - May nothing distress her! - You know very well whom I mean. - - Heaven help the adorer - Who happens to bore her, - The lover who wakens her spleen; - But too blest for a sinner - Is he who shall win her, - And you know very well whom I mean. - -William Cullen Bryant, like most of the New England poets, was not -often humorous in his work. Perhaps the nearest he came to it was in -his _Lines to a Mosquito_. - - - _TO A MOSQUITO_ - - Fair insect! that with threadlike legs spread out, - And blood-extracting bill and filmy wing, - Dost murmur, as thou slowly sail’st about, - In pitiless ears, full many a plaintive thing, - And tell how little our large veins should bleed, - Would we but yield them to thy bitter need? - - Unwillingly, I own, and, what is worse, - Full angrily men harken to thy plaint; - Thou gettest many a brush and many a curse, - For saying thou art gaunt and starved and faint. - Even the old beggar, while he asks for food, - Would kill thee, hapless stranger, if he could. - - I call thee stranger, for the town, I ween, - Has not the honor of so proud a birth-- - Thou com’st from Jersey meadows, fresh and green, - The offspring of the gods, though born on earth; - For Titan was thy sire, and fair was she, - The ocean nymph that nursed thy infancy. - - Beneath the rushes was thy cradle swung, - And when at length thy gauzy wings grew strong, - Abroad to gentle airs their folds were flung, - Rose in the sky, and bore thee soft along; - The south wind breathed to waft thee on thy way, - And danced and shone beneath the billowy bay. - - Calm rose afar the city spires, and thence - Came the deep murmur of its throng of men, - And as its grateful odors met thy sense, - They seemed the perfumes of thy native fen. - Fair lay its crowded streets, and at the sight - Thy tiny song grew shriller with delight. - - At length thy pinion fluttered in Broadway-- - Ah, there were fairy steps, and white necks kissed - By wanton airs, and eyes whose killing ray - Shone through the snowy veils like stars through mist; - And fresh as morn, on many a cheek and chin, - Bloomed the bright blood through the transparent skin. - - Sure these were sights to tempt an anchorite! - What! do I hear thy slender voice complain? - Thou wailest when I talk of beauty’s light, - As if it brought the memory of pain. - Thou art a wayward being--well--come near, - And pour thy tale of sorrow in mine ear. - - What say’st thou, slanderer! rouge makes thee sick? - And China Bloom at best is sorry food? - And Rowland’s Kalydor, if laid on thick, - Poisons the thirsty wretch that bores for blood. - Go! ’Twas a just reward that met thy crime-- - But shun the sacrilege another time. - - That bloom was made to look at--not to touch; - To worship--not approach--that radiant white; - And well might sudden vengeance light on such - As dared, like thee, most impiously to bite. - Thou shouldst have gazed at distance and admired-- - Murmur’d thy admiration and retired. - - Thou’rt welcome to the town--but why come here - To bleed a brother poet, gaunt like thee? - Alas! the little blood I have is dear, - And thin will be the banquet drawn from me. - Look round--the pale-eyed sisters in my cell, - Thy old acquaintance, Song and Famine, dwell. - - Try some plump alderman, and suck the blood - Enrich’d by gen’rous wine and costly meat; - On well-filled skins, sleek as thy native mud, - Fix thy light pump, and press thy freckled feet. - Go to the men for whom, in ocean’s halls, - The oyster breeds and the green turtle sprawls. - - There corks are drawn, and the red vintage flows, - To fill the swelling veins for thee, and now - The ruddy cheek, and now the ruddier nose - Shall tempt thee, as thou flittest round the brow; - And when the hour of sleep its quiet brings, - No angry hand shall rise to brush thy wings. - -Fitz-Greene Halleck wrote much in collaboration with Joseph Rodman -Drake, and it is often difficult to separate their work. - - - _ODE TO FORTUNE_ - - Fair lady with the bandaged eye! - I’ll pardon all thy scurvy tricks, - So thou wilt cut me, and deny - Alike thy kisses and thy kicks: - I’m quite contented as I am, - Have cash to keep my duns at bay, - Can choose between beefsteaks and ham, - And drink Madeira every day. - - My station is the middle rank, - My fortune--just a competence-- - Ten thousand in the Franklin Bank, - And twenty in the six per cents; - No amorous chains my heart enthrall, - I neither borrow, lend, nor sell; - Fearless I roam the City Hall, - And bite my thumb at Sheriff Bell. - - The horse that twice a week I ride - At Mother Dawson’s eats his fill; - My books at Goodrich’s abide, - My country-seat is Weehawk hill; - My morning lounge is Eastburn’s shop, - At Poppleton’s I take my lunch, - Niblo prepares my mutton-chop, - And Jennings makes my whiskey-punch. - - When merry, I the hours amuse - By squibbing Bucktails, Guards, and Balls, - And when I’m troubled with the blues - Damn Clinton and abuse cards: - Then, Fortune, since I ask no prize, - At least preserve me from thy frown! - The man who don’t attempt to rise - ’Twere cruelty to tumble down. - -Albert Gorton Greene also wrote in the manner of his English forebears, -indeed, his _Old Grimes_ is quite in line with Tom Hood or -Goldsmith. - - - _OLD CHIMES_ - - Old Grimes is dead; that good old man - We never shall see more: - He used to wear a long, black coat, - All buttoned down before. - - His heart was open as the day, - His feelings all were true; - His hair was some inclined to gray-- - He wore it in a queue. - - Whene’er he heard the voice of pain, - His breast with pity burn’d; - The large, round head upon his cane - From ivory was turn’d. - - Kind words he ever had for all; - He knew no base design: - His eyes were dark and rather small, - His nose was aquiline. - - He lived at peace with all mankind. - In friendship he was true: - His coat had pocket-holes behind, - His pantaloons were blue. - - Unharm’d, the sin which earth pollutes - He pass’d securely o’er, - And never wore a pair of boots - For thirty years or more. - - But good old Grimes is now at rest, - Nor fears misfortune’s frown: - He wore a double-breasted vest-- - The stripes ran up and down. - - He modest merit sought to find, - And pay it its desert: - He had no malice in his mind, - No ruffles on his shirt. - - His neighbors he did not abuse-- - Was sociable and gay: - He wore large buckles on his shoes - And changed them every day. - - His knowledge, hid from public gaze, - He did not bring to view, - Nor made a noise, town-meeting days, - As many people do. - - His worldly goods he never threw - In trust to fortune’s chances, - But lived (as all his brothers do) - In easy circumstances. - - Thus undisturb’d by anxious cares, - His peaceful moments ran; - And everybody said he was - A fine old gentleman. - -Ralph Waldo Emerson is seldom humorous or even in lighter vein. His -Fable about the squirrel shows a graceful wit. - - - _FABLE_ - - The mountain and the squirrel - Had a quarrel, - And the former called the latter “Little Prig”; - Bun replied, - “You are doubtless very big; - But all sorts of things and weather - Must be taken in together, - To make up a year - And a sphere, - And I think it no disgrace - To occupy my place. - If I’m not so large as you, - You are not so small as I, - And not half so spry. - I’ll not deny you make - A very pretty squirrel track; - Talents differ; all is well and wisely put; - If I cannot carry forests on my back, - Neither can you crack a nut.” - -Nathaniel Parker Willis was a popular writer of society satire in both -prose and verse. - - - _LOVE IN A COTTAGE_ - - They may talk of love in a cottage, - And bowers of trellised vine-- - Of nature bewitchingly simple, - And milkmaids half-divine; - They may talk of the pleasure of sleeping - In the shade of a spreading tree, - And a walk in the fields at morning, - By the side of a footstep free! - - But give me a sly flirtation - By the light of a chandelier-- - With music to play in the pauses, - And nobody very near; - Or a seat on a silken sofa, - With a glass of pure old wine, - And mama too blind to discover - The small white hand in mine. - - Your love in a cottage is hungry, - Your vine is a nest for flies-- - Your milkmaid shocks the Graces, - And simplicity talks of pies! - You lie down to your shady slumber - And wake with a bug in your ear, - And your damsel that walks in the morning - Is shod like a mountaineer. - - True love is at home on a carpet, - And mightily likes his ease-- - And true love has an eye for a dinner, - And starves beneath shady trees. - His wing is the fan of a lady. - His foot’s an invisible thing, - And his arrow is tipp’d with a jewel - And shot from a silver string. - -Seba Smith, among the first to break away from English traditions, -wrote over the pen name of Major Jack Downing. He was a pioneer in the -matter of dialect writing and the first to poke fun at New England -speech and manners. - -Follows a part of his skit called - - - _MY FIRST VISIT TO PORTLAND_ - -After I had walked about three or four hours, I come along towards the -upper end of the town, where I found there were stores and shops of all -sorts and sizes. And I met a feller, and says I,-- - -“What place is this?” - -“Why, this,” says he, “is Huckler’s Row.” - -“What!” says I, “are these the stores where the traders in Huckler’s -Row keep?” - -And says he, “Yes.” - -“Well, then,” says I to myself, “I have a pesky good mind to go in -and have a try with one of these chaps, and see if they can twist my -eye-teeth out. If they can get the best end of a bargain out of me, -they can do what there ain’t a man in our place can do; and I should -just like to know what sort of stuff these ’ere Portland chaps are made -of.” So in I goes into the best-looking store among ’em. And I see some -biscuit lying on the shelf, and says I,-- - -“Mister, how much do you ax apiece for them ’ere biscuits?” - -“A cent apiece,” says he. - -“Well,” says I, “I shan’t give you that, but, if you’ve a mind to, I’ll -give you two cents for three of them, for I begin to feel a little as -though I would like to take a bite.” - -“Well,” says he, “I wouldn’t sell ’em to anybody else so, but, seeing -it’s you, I don’t care if you take ’em.” - -I knew he lied, for he never seen me before in his life. Well, he -handed down the biscuits, and I took ’em, and walked round the store -awhile, to see what else he had to sell. At last says I,-- - -“Mister, have you got any good cider?” - -Says he, “Yes, as good as ever ye see.” - -“Well,” says I, “what do you ax a glass for it?” - -“Two cents,” says he. - -“Well,” says I, “seems to me I feel more dry than I do hungry now. -Ain’t you a mind to take these ’ere biscuits again and give me a glass -of cider?” and says he: - -“I don’t care if I do.” - -So he took and laid ’em on the shelf again and poured out a glass of -cider. I took the glass of cider and drinkt it down and, to tell you -the truth about it, it was capital good cider Then says I: - -“I guess it’s about time for me to be a-going,” and so I stept along -toward the door; but he ups and says, says he: - -“Stop, mister, I believe you haven’t paid me for the cider.’ - -“Not paid you for the cider!” says I; “what do you mean by that? Didn’t -the biscuits that I give you just come to the cider?” - -“Oh, ah, right!” says he. - -So I started to go again, but before I had reached the door he says, -says he: - -“But stop, mister, you didn’t pay me for the biscuit.” - -“What!” says I, “do you mean to impose upon me? Do you think I am going -to pay you for the biscuits, and let you keep them, too? Ain’t they -there now on your shelf? What more do you want? I guess, sir, you don’t -whittle me in that way.” - -So I turned about and marched off and left the feller staring and -scratching his head as tho’ he was struck with a dunderment. - -Howsomeever, I didn’t want to cheat him, only jest to show ’em it -wa’n’t so easy a matter to pull my eye-teeth out; so I called in next -day and paid him two cents. - - * * * * * - -And now humor began to creep into the newspapers, and it came about -that American humorists, almost without exception, have been newspaper -men. - -Following Seba Smith’s plan each author created a character, usually -of homely type, and through him as a mouthpiece gave to the world his -own wit and wisdom. - -Mrs. Frances Miriam Whitcher wrote the Widow Bedott papers, and -Frederick Swartout Cozzens the Sparrowgrass Papers, but best known -today is the Mrs. Partington, the American Mrs. Malaprop, created by -Benjamin Penhallow Shillaber. - - - _AFTER A WEDDING_ - -“I like to tend weddings,” said Mrs. Partington, as she came back -from a neighboring church where one had been celebrated, and hung -up her shawl, and replaced the black bonnet in her long-preserved -band-box. “I like to see young people come together with the promise -to love, cherish, and nourish each other. But it is a solemn thing, -is matrimony--a very solemn thing--where the pasture comes into the -chancery, with his surplus on, and goes through with the cerement of -making ’em man and wife. It ought to be husband and wife; for it ain’t -every husband that turns out a man. I declare I shall never forget how -I felt when I had the nuptial ring put on to my finger, when Paul said, -‘With my goods I thee endow.’ He used to keep a dry-goods store then, -and I thought he was going to give me all there was in it. I was young -and simple, and didn’t know till arterwards that it only meant one -calico gound in a year. It is a lovely sight to see the young people -plighting their trough, and coming up to consume their vows.” - -She bustled about and got tea ready, but abstractedly she put on the -broken teapot, that had lain away unused since Paul was alive, and -the teacups, mended with putty, and dark with age, as if the idea had -conjured the ghost of past enjoyment to dwell for the moment in the -home of present widowhood. - -A young lady, who expected to be married on Thanksgiving night, -wept copiously at her remarks, but kept on hemming the veil that -was to adorn her brideship, and Ike sat pulling bristles out of the -hearth-brush in expressive silence. - -Yet not all the wits of the day were newspaper men, for Oliver Wendell -Holmes left his essays and novels now and then to give his native humor -full play. - -The “Deacon’s Masterpiece,” often called “The One Hoss Shay” is a -classic, and many short poems are among our best witty verses, while -Holmes’ genial humor pervades his Breakfast Table books. - - - _THE HEIGHT OF THE RIDICULOUS_ - - I wrote some lines once on a time, - In wondrous merry mood, - And thought, as usual, men would say - They were exceeding good. - - They were so queer, so very queer, - I laughed as I would die; - Albeit, in the general way, - A sober man am I. - - I called my servant, and he came; - How kind it was of him, - To mind a slender man like me, - He of the mighty limb! - - “These to the printer,” I exclaimed, - And, in my humorous way, - I added (as a trifling jest), - “There’ll be the devil to pay.” - - He took the paper, and I watched, - And saw him peep within; - At the first line he read, his face - Was all upon the grin. - - He read the next: the grin grew broad, - And shot from ear to ear; - He read the third: a chuckling noise - I now began to hear. - - The fourth: he broke into a roar; - The fifth: his waistband split; - The sixth: he burst five buttons off, - And tumbled in a fit. - - Ten days and nights, with sleepless eye, - I watched that wretched man, - And since, I never dare to write - As funny as I can. - - - _ÆSTIVATION_ - - In candent ire the solar splendor flames; - The foles, languescent, pend from arid rames; - His humid front the cive, anheling, wipes, - And dreams of erring on ventiferous ripes. - - How dulce to vive occult to mortal eyes, - Dorm on the herb with none to supervise, - Carp the suave berries from the crescent vine, - And bibe the flow from longicaudate kine. - - To me also, no verdurous visions come - Save you exiguous pool’s confervascum,-- - No concave vast repeats the tender hue - That laves my milk-jug with celestial blue. - - Me wretched! Let me curr to quercine shades! - Effund your albid hausts, lactiferous maids! - Oh, might I vole to some umbrageous chump,-- - Depart,--be off,--excede,--evade,--erump! - -Henry Wadsworth Longfellow is charged with the perpetration of certain -nonsense verses. His authorship of these has been stoutly denied as -well as positively asseverated. - -The two poems in question are appended, and if Longfellow did write -them they are in no wise to his discredit. - - - _THERE WAS A LITTLE GIRL_ - - There was a little girl, - And she had a little curl - Right in the middle of her forehead. - When she was good - She was very, very good, - And when she was bad she was horrid. - - One day she went upstairs, - When her parents, unawares, - In the kitchen were occupied with meals - And she stood upon her head - In her little trundle-bed, - And then began hooraying with her heels. - - Her mother heard the noise, - And she thought it was the boys - A-playing at a combat in the attic; - But when she climbed the stair, - And found Jemima there, - She took and she did spank her most emphatic. - - - _MR. FINNEY’S TURNIP_ - - Mr. Finney had a turnip - And it grew and it grew; - And it grew behind the barn, - And that turnip did no harm. - - There it grew and it grew - Till it could grow no taller; - Then his daughter Lizzie picked it - And put it in the cellar. - - There it lay and it lay - Till it began to rot; - And his daughter Susie took it - And put it in the pot. - - And they boiled it and boiled it - As long as they were able, - And then his daughters took it - And put it on the table. - - Mr. Finney and his wife - They sat down to sup; - And they ate and they ate - And they ate that turnip up. - -James Thomas Fields, an acknowledged humorist, wrote mostly homely -narrative wit. - - - _THE ALARMED SKIPPER_ - - Many a long, long year ago, - Nantucket skippers had a plan - Of finding out, though “lying low,” - How near New York their schooners ran. - - They greased the lead before it fell, - And then, by sounding through the night, - Knowing the soil that stuck, so well, - They always guessed their reckoning right. - - A skipper gray, whose eyes were dim, - Could tell, by _tasting_, just the spot; - And so below he’d “dowse the glim,”-- - After, of course, his “something hot.” - - Snug in his berth at eight o’clock - This ancient skipper might be found; - No matter how his craft would rock, - He slept,--for skippers’ naps are sound! - - The watch on deck would now and then - Run down and wake him, with the lead; - He’d up, and taste, and tell the men - How many miles they went ahead. - - One night ’twas Jotham Marden’s watch, - A curious wag,--the peddler’s son,-- - And so he mused (the wanton wretch), - “To-night I’ll have a grain of fun. - - “We’re all a set of stupid fools - To think the skipper knows by _tasting_ - What ground he’s on: Nantucket schools - Don’t teach such stuff, with all their basting!” - - And so he took the well-greased lead - And rubbed it o’er a box of earth - That stood on deck,--a parsnip-bed,-- - And then he sought the skipper’s berth. - - “Where are we now, sir? Please to taste.” - The skipper yawned, put out his tongue, - Then oped his eyes in wondrous haste, - And then upon the floor he sprung! - - The skipper stormed, and tore his hair, - Thrust on his boots, and roared to Marden, - “_Nantucket’s sunk, and here we are - Right over old Marm Hackett’s garden!_” - -John Godfrey Saxe has been called the American Tom Hood. His verses are -among our very best humorous poems. - - - _MY FAMILIAR_ - - Again I hear that creaking step!-- - He’s rapping at the door!-- - Too well I know the boding sound - That ushers in a bore. - I do not tremble when I meet - The stoutest of my foes, - But heaven defend me from the friend - Who comes,--but never goes! - - He drops into my easy-chair - And asks about the news; - He peers into my manuscript, - And gives his candid views; - He tells me where he likes the line, - And where he’s forced to grieve; - He takes the strangest liberties,-- - But never takes his leave! - - He reads my daily paper through - Before I’ve seen a word; - He scans the lyric (that I wrote) - And thinks it quite absurd; - He calmly smokes my last cigar, - And coolly asks for more; - He opens everything he sees-- - Except the entry door! - - He talks about his fragile health, - And tells me of his pains; - He suffers from a score of ills - Of which he ne’er complains; - And how he struggled once with death - To keep the fiend at bay; - On themes like those away he goes-- - But never goes away! - - He tells me of the carping words - Some shallow critic wrote; - And every precious paragraph - Familiarly can quote; - He thinks the writer did me wrong; - He’d like to run him through! - He says a thousand pleasant things-- - But never says “Adieu!” - - Whene’er he comes--that dreadful man-- - Disguise it as I may, - I know that, like an autumn rain, - He’ll last throughout the day. - In vain I speak of urgent tasks; - In vain I scowl and pout; - A frown is no extinguisher-- - It does not put him out! - - I mean to take the knocker off, - Put crape upon the door, - Or hint to John that I am gone - To stay a month or more. - I do not tremble when I meet - The stoutest of my foes, - But Heaven defend me from the friend - Who never, never goes! - -Henry Wheeler Shaw, creator of the character of Josh Billings, was a -philosopher and essayist as well as a funny man. - -Doubtless his work has lived largely because of its amusing -misspelling, but there is much wisdom to be found in his wit. - -The following essays are given only in part. - - - _TIGHT BOOTS_ - -I would jist like to kno who the man waz who fust invented _tite -boots_. - -He must hav bin a narrow and kontrakted kuss. - -If he still lives, i hope he haz repented ov hiz sin, or iz enjoying -grate agony ov sum kind. - -I hay bin in a grate menny tite spots in mi life, but generally could -manage to make them average; but thare iz no sich thing az making a -pair of tite boots average. - -Enny man who kan wear a pair ov tite boots, and be humble, and -penitent, and not indulge profane literature, will make a good husband. - -Oh! for the pen ov departed Wm. Shakspear, to write an anethema aginst -tite boots, that would make anshunt Rome wake up, and howl agin az she -did once before on a previous ockashun. - -Oh! for the strength ov Herkules, to tare into shu strings all the tite -boots ov creashun, and skatter them tew the 8 winds ov heaven. - -Oh! for the buty ov Venus, tew make a bigg foot look hansum without a -tite boot on it. - -Oh! for the payshunce ov Job, the Apostle, to nuss a tite boot and bles -it, and even pra for one a size smaller and more pinchfull. - -Oh! for a pair of boots bigg enuff for the foot ov a mountain. - -I have been led into the above assortment ov _Oh’s!_ from having -in my posseshun, at this moment, a pair ov number nine boots, with a -pair ov number eleven feet in them. - -Mi feet are az uneasy az a dog’s noze the fust time he wears a muzzle. - -I think mi feet will eventually choke the boots to deth. - -I liv in hopes they will. - -I suppozed i had lived long enuff not to be phooled agin in this way, -but i hav found out that an ounce ov vanity weighs more than a pound ov -reazon, espeshily when a man mistakes a bigg foot for a small one. - -Avoid tite boots, mi friend, az you would the grip of the devil; for -menny a man haz cought for life a fust rate habit for swareing bi -encouraging hiz feet to hurt hiz boots. - -I hav promised mi two feet, at least a dozen ov times during mi -checkured life, that they never should be strangled agin, but i find -them to-day az phull ov pain az the stummuk ake from a suddin attak ov -tite boots. - -But this iz solemly the last pair ov tite boots i will ever wear; i -will hereafter wear boots az bigg az mi feet, if i have to go barefoot -to do it. - -I am too old and too respektable to be a phool enny more. - -Eazy boots iz _one_ of the luxurys ov life, but i forgit what the -other luxury iz, but i don’t kno az i care, provided i kan git rid ov -this pair ov tite boots. - -Enny man kan hav them for seven dollars, just half what they kost, and -if they don’t make his feet ake wuss than an angle worm in hot ashes, -he needn’t pay for them. - -Methuseles iz the only man, that i kan kall to mind now who could hav -afforded to hav wore tite boots, and enjoyed them, he had a grate deal -ov waste time tew be miserable in but life now days, iz too short, and -too full ov aktual bizzness to phool away enny ov it on tite boots. - -Tite boots are an insult to enny man’s understanding. - -He who wears tite boots will hav too acknowledge the corn. - -Tite boots hav no bowells or mersy, their insides are wrath and -promiskious cussing. - -Beware ov tite boots.-- - - - _A HEN_ - -A hen is a darn phool, they was born so bi natur. - -When natur undertakes tew make a phool, she hits the mark the fust time. - -Most all the animile kritters hav instinkt, which is wuth more to them -than reason would be, for instinkt don’t make enny blunders. - -If the animiles had reason, they would akt just as ridikilus as we men -folks do. - -But a hen don’t seem tew hav even instinkt, and was made expressly for -a phool. - -I hav seen a hen fly out ov a good warm shelter, on the 15th ov -January, when the snow was 3 foot high, and lite on the top ov a stun -wall, and coolly set thare, and freeze tew deth. - -Noboddy but a darn phool would do this, unless it was tew save a bet. - -I hav saw a human being do similar things, but they did it tew win a -bet. - -To save a bet, is self-preservashun, and self-preservashun, is the fust -law ov natur, so sez Blakstone, and he is the best judge ov law now -living. - -If i couldn’t be Josh Billings, i would like, next in suit tew be -Blakstone, and compoze sum law. - -Not so far removed from the Josh Billings type of humor is the work -of James Russell Lowell. His well known _Biglow Papers_ exploit -in perfection the back country New England politics as well as native -character. - - - _WHAT MR. ROBINSON THINKS_ - - Guvener B. is a sensible man; - He stays to his home an’ looks arter his folks; - He draws his furrer ez straight ez he can, - An’ into nobody’s tater-patch pokes; - But John P. - Robinson he - Sez he wunt vote fer Guvener B. - - My ain’t it terrible? Wut shall we du? - We can’t never choose him, o’ course,--thet’s flat; - Guess we shall hev to come round (don’t you?) - An’ go in fer thunder an’ guns, an’ all that; - Fer John P. - Robinson he - Sez he wunt vote fer Guvener B. - - Gineral C. is a dreffle smart man: - He’s ben on all sides thet give places or pelf; - But consistency still was a part of his plan,-- - He’s ben true to _one_ party,--an’ thet is himself;-- - So John P. - Robinson he - Sez he shall vote fer Gineral C. - - Gineral C. he goes in fer the war; - He don’t vally principle more’n an old cud; - Wut did God make us raytional creeturs fer, - But glory an’ gunpowder, plunder an’ blood? - So John P. - Robinson he - Sez he shall vote fer Gineral C. - - We were gettin’ on nicely up here to our village, - With good old idees o’ wut’s right an’ wut ain’t, - We kind o’ thought Christ went agin’ war an’ pillage, - An’ thet eppyletts worn’t the best mark of a saint; - But John P. - Robinson he - Sez this kind o’ thing’s an exploded idee. - - The side of our country must ollers be took, - An’ Presidunt Polk, you know, _he_ is our country, - An’ the angel thet writes all our sins in a book - Puts the _debit_ to him, an’ to us the _per contry_! - An’ John P. - Robinson he - Sez this is his view o’ the thing to a T. - - Parson Wilbur he calls all these argimunts lies; - Sez they’re nothin’ on airth but jest _fee_, _faw_, _fum_; - An’ thet all this big talk of our destinies - Is half on it ign’ance, an’ t’other half rum; - But John P. - Robinson he - Sez it ain’t no sech thing; an’, of course, so must we. - - Parson Wilbur sez _he_ never heerd in his life - Thet th’ Apostles rigged out in their swaller-tail coats, - An’ marched round in front of a drum an’ a fife, - To git some on ’em office, an’ some on ’em votes; - But John P. - Robinson he - Sez they didn’t know everythin’ down in Judee. - - Wall, it’s a marcy we’ve gut folks to tell us - The rights an’ the wrongs o’ these matters, I vow,-- - God sends country lawyers, an’ other wise fellers, - To start the world’s team wen it gits in a slough; - Fer John P. - Robinson he - Sez the world’ll go right, ef he hollers out Gee! - -Phoebe Cary, though a hymn writer of repute, did some extremely clever -parodies. This work of hers is little known. - - - _I REMEMBER_ - - I remember, I remember, - The house where I was wed, - And the little room from which that night - My smiling bride was led. - She didn’t come a wink too soon, - Nor make too long a stay; - But now I often wish her folks - Had kept the girl away! - - I remember, I remember, - Her dresses, red and white, - Her bonnets and her caps and cloaks,-- - They cost an awful sight! - The “corner lot” on which I built, - And where my brother met - At first my wife, one washing-day,-- - That man is single yet! - - I remember, I remember, - Where I was used to court, - And thought that all of married life - Was just such pleasant sport:-- - My spirit flew in feathers then, - No care was on my brow; - I scarce could wait to shut the gate,-- - I’m not so anxious now! - - I remember, I remember, - My dear one’s smile and sigh; - I used to think her tender heart - Was close against the sky. - It was a childish ignorance, - But now it soothes me not - To know I’m farther off from Heaven - Than when she wasn’t got! - - - _“THERE’S A BOWER OF BEAN-VINES”_ - - There’s a bower of bean-vines in Benjamin’s yard, - And the cabbages grow round it, planted for greens; - In the time of my childhood ’twas terribly hard - To bend down the bean-poles, and pick off the beans. - - That bower and its products I never forget, - But oft, when my landlady presses me hard, - I think, are the cabbages growing there yet, - Are the bean-vines still bearing in Benjamin’s yard? - - No, the bean-vines soon withered that once used to wave, - But some beans had been gathered, the last that hung on; - And a soup was distilled in a kettle, that gave - All the fragrance of summer when summer was gone. - - Thus memory draws from delight, ere it dies, - An essence that breathes of it awfully hard; - As thus good to my taste as ’twas then to my eyes, - Is that bower of bean-vines in Benjamin’s yard. - - - _JACOB_ - - He dwelt among “Apartments let,” - About five stories high; - A man, I thought, that none would get, - And very few would try. - - A boulder, by a larger stone - Half hidden in the mud, - Fair as a man when only one - Is in the neighborhood. - - He lived unknown, and few could tell - When Jacob was not free; - But he has got a wife--and O! - The difference to me! - - - _REUBEN_ - - That very time I saw, (but thou couldst not), - Walking between the garden and the barn, - Reuben, all armed; a certain aim he took - At a young chicken, standing by a post, - And loosed his bullet smartly from his gun, - As he would kill a hundred thousand hens. - But I might see young Reuben’s fiery shot - Lodged in the chaste board of the garden fence, - And the domesticated fowl passed on, - In henly meditation, bullet free. - -Edward Everett Hale, George William Curtis, Richard Grant White and -Donald G. Mitchell (Ik Marvel) wrote about this time, but their prose -articles are too long to quote in full and not adapted to condensation. - -Again the newspaper writers forge to the front and in George Horatio -Derby we find “the Father of” the new school of American humor. His -sketches, over the name of John Phoenix, began to appear about the -middle of the Nineteenth century and were later collected under the -titles of Phoenixiana and Squibob Papers. - -A fragment of one is given. - - * * * * * - -The dentist went to work, and in three days he invented an instrument -which he was confident would pull anything. It was a combination of the -lever, pulley, wheel and axle, inclined plane, wedge, and screw. The -castings were made, and the machine put up in the office, over an iron -chair rendered perfectly stationary by iron rods going down into the -foundations of the granite building. In a week old Byles returned; he -was clamped into the iron chair, the forceps connected with the machine -attached firmly to the tooth, and Tushmaker, stationing himself in the -rear, took hold of a lever four feet in length. He turned it slightly. -Old Byles gave a groan and lifted his right leg. Another turn, another -groan, and up went the leg again. - -“What do you raise your leg for?” asked the Doctor. - -“I can’t help it,” said the patient. - -“Well,” rejoined Tushmaker, “that tooth is bound to come out now.” - -He turned the lever clear round with a sudden jerk, and snapped old -Byles’ head clean and clear from his shoulders, leaving a space of four -inches between the severed parts! - -They had a _post-mortem_ examination--the roots of the tooth were -found extending down the right side, through the right leg, and turning -up in two prongs under the sole of the right foot! - -“No wonder,” said Tushmaker, “he raised his right leg.” - -The jury thought so, too, but they found the roots much decayed; and -five surgeons swearing that mortification would have ensued in a few -months, Tushmaker was clear on a verdict of “justifiable homicide.” - -He was a little shy of that instrument for some time afterward; but one -day an old lady, feeble and flaccid, came in to have a tooth drawn, and -thinking it would come out very easy Tushmaker concluded, just by way -of variety, to try the machine. He did so, and at the first turn drew -the old lady’s skeleton completely and entirely from her body, leaving -her a mass of quivering jelly in her chair! Tushmaker took her home in -a pillow-case. - -The woman lived-seven years after that, and they called her the -“India-Rubber Woman.” She had suffered terribly with the rheumatism, -but after this occurrence never had a pain in her bones. The dentist -kept them in a glass case. After this, the machine was sold to the -contract or of the Boston Custom-House, and it was found that a child -of three years of age could, by a single turn of the screw, raise a -stone weighing twenty-three tons. Smaller ones were made on the same -principle and sold to the keepers of hotels and restaurants. They were -used for boning turkeys. There is no moral to this story whatever, -and it is possible that the circumstances may have become slightly -exaggerated. Of course, there can be no doubt of the truth of the main -incidents. - -Charles Godfrey Leland, a humorist of Philadelphia, wrote almost -entirely in a broken German dialect. His Hans Breitmann ballads are -still among the famous examples of American humor. - - - _BALLAD_ - - Der noble Ritter Hugo - Von Schwillensaufenstein - Rode out mit shpeer and helmet, - Und he coom to de panks of de Rhine. - - Und oop dere rose a meer maid, - Vod hadn’t got nodings on, - Und she say, “Oh, Ritter Hugo, - Vhere you goes mit yourself alone?” - - Und he says, “I rides in de creenwood - Mit helmet und mit shpeer, - Till I cooms into em Gasthaus, - Und dere I trinks some beer.” - - Und den outshpoke de maiden - Vot hadn’t got nodings on: - “I ton’t dink mooch of beoplesh - Dat goes mit demselfs alone. - - “You’d petter coom down in de wasser, - Vere dere’s heaps of dings to see, - Und have a shplendid tinner - Und drafel along mit me. - - “Dere you sees de fisch a-schwimmin, - Und you catches dem efery one”-- - So sang dis wasser maiden - Vot hadn’t got nodings on. - - “Dere ish drunks all full mit money - In ships dat vent down of old; - Und you helpsh yourself, by dunder! - To shimmerin crowns of gold. - - “Shoost look at dese shpoons und vatches! - Shoost see dese diamant rings! - Coom down und full your bockets, - Und I’ll giss you like averydings. - - “Vot you vantsh mit your schnapps und lager? - Coom down into der Rhine! - Der ish pottles der Kaiser Charlemagne - Vonce filled mit gold-red wine!” - - _Dat_ fetched him--he shtood all shpellpound; - She pooled his coat-tails down, - She drawed him oonder der wasser, - De maiden mit nodings on. - -William Allen Butler is remembered chiefly by his long humorous poem of -Miss Flora M’Flimsey, or, as it is entitled, _Nothing To Wear_. - - * * * * * - -Charles Graham Halpine wrote in an Irish brogue the adventures of -Private Miles O’Reilly. - - * * * * * - -John T. Trowbridge and Charles Dudley Warner are among the famous -Nineteenth Century writers but their works are not adapted to quotation. - - * * * * * - -Which brings us to Mark Twain. - -Samuel Langhorne Clemens is too well known both by his works and by his -life to need any word of comment. His whole career, as printer, pilot, -lecturer and writer is an open and conned book to all. - -Difficult indeed it is to quote from his volumes of fun, but we append -a short extract from _The Jumping Frog of Calaveras County_. - -... Smiley was monstrous proud of his frog, and well he might be, for -fellers that had traveled and been everywheres all said he laid over -any frog that ever _they_ see. - -Well, Smiley kep’ the beast in a little lattice box, and he used to -fetch him down-town sometimes and lay for a bet. One day a feller--a -stranger in the camp, he was--come acrost him with his box, and says: - -“What might it be that you’ve got in the box?” - -And Smiley says, sorter indifferent-like, “It might be a parrot, or it -might be a canary, maybe, but it ain’t--it’s only just a frog.” - -And the feller took it, and looked at it careful, and turned it round -this way and that, and says, “H’m--so ’tis. Well what’s _he_ good -for?” - -“Well,” Smiley says, easy and careless, “he’s good enough for -_one_ thing, I should judge--he can outjump any frog in Calaveras -County.” - -The feller took the box again, and took another long, particular look, -and give it back to Smiley, and says, very deliberate, “Well,” he says, -“I don’t see no p’ints about that frog that’s any better’n any other -frog.” - -“Maybe you don’t,” Smiley says. “Maybe you understand frogs and maybe -you don’t understand ’em; maybe you’ve had experience, and maybe you -ain’t only a amature, as it were. Anyways, I’ve got _my_ opinion -and I’ll resk forty dollars that he can outjump any frog in Calaveras -County.” - -And the feller studied a minute, and then says, kinder sad like, “Well, -I’m only a stranger here, and I ain’t got no frog; but if I had a frog -I’d bet you.” - -And then Smiley says, “That’s all right--that’s all right--if you’ll -hold my box a minute I’ll go and get you a frog.” And so the feller -took the box, and put up his forty dollars along with Smiley’s, and set -down to wait. - -So he set there a good while thinking and thinking to himself, and -then he got the frog out and prized his mouth open and took a teaspoon -and filled him full of quail shot--filled him pretty near up to his -chin--and set him on the floor. Smiley he went to the swamp and slopped -around in the mud for a long time, and finally he ketched a frog, and -fetched him in, and give him to this feller, and says: - -“Now, if you’re ready, set him alongside of Dan’l, with his forepaws -just even with Dan’l’s, and I’ll give the word.” Then he says, -“One--two--three--_git_.” and him and the feller touched up the -frogs from behind, and the new frog hopped off lively, but Dan’l give a -heave, and hysted up his shoulders--so--like a Frenchman, but it warn’t -no use--he couldn’t budge; he was planted as solid as a church, and he -couldn’t no more stir than if he was anchored out. Smiley was a good -deal surprised, and he was disgusted, too, but he didn’t have no idea -what the matter was, of course. - -The feller took the money and started away; and when he was going out -at the door, he sorter jerked his thumb over his shoulder--so--at -Dan’l, and says again, very deliberate, “Well,” he says, “_I_ -don’t see no p’ints about that frog that’s any better’n any other frog.” - -Smiley he stood scratching his head and looking down at Dan’l a long -time, and at last he says, “I do wonder what in the nation that frog -throw’d off for--I wonder if there ain’t something the matter with -him--e ’pears to look mighty baggy, somehow.” And he ketched Dan’l by -the nap of the neck, and hefted him, and says, “Why blame my cats if he -don’t weight five pound!” and turned him upside down and he belched out -a double handful of shot. And then he see how it was, and he was the -maddest man--he set the frog down and took out after that feller, but -he never ketched him. - - * * * * * - -James Bayard Taylor and Thomas Bailey Aldrich, friends and congenial -spirits, both despised American Dialect poetry. - -Their own work shows a facile wit and graceful fancy, but, with Edmund -Clarence Stedman, they must be classed as writers of light verse rather -than as humorists. - -Taylor was good at parody, and in his _Echo Club_, thus burlesques -the style of Aldrich. - - - _PALABRAS GRANDIOSAS_ - - _After T---- B---- A----_ - - I lay i’ the bosom of the sun, - Under the roses dappled and dun. - I thought of the Sultan Gingerbeer, - In his palace beside the Bendemeer, - With his Afghan guards and his eunuchs blind, - And the harem that stretched for a league behind. - The tulips bent i’ the summer breeze, - Under the broad chrysanthemum trees, - And the minstrel, playing his culverin, - Made for mine ears a merry din. - - If I were the Sultan, and he were I, - Here i’ the grass he should loafing lie, - And I should bestride my zebra steed, - And the ride of the hunt of the centipede; - While the pet of the harem, Dandeline, - Should fill me a crystal bucket of wine, - And the kislar aga, Up-to-Snuff, - Should wipe my mouth when I sighed “Enough!” - And the gay court-poet, Fearfulbore, - Should sit in the hall when the hunt was o’er, - And chant me songs of silvery tone, - Not from Hafiz, but--mine own! - - Ah, wee sweet love, beside me here, - I am not the Sultan Gingerbeer, - Nor you the odalisque Dandeline, - Yet I am yourn, and you are mine! - -David Ross Locke, who wrote over the name of Petroleum V. Nasby, was a -humorist of the newspapers. He achieved no success until he began to -misspell his words, when he at once leaped into popularity. - -But the Prince of Misspellers, excepting always Josh Billings, was -Artemus Ward, the pseudonym of Charles Farrar Browne. - -The trick of misspelling and the use of excessive exaggeration were his -stock in trade, added to a certain plaintiveness and abounding good -humor. - -Browne was the only one of this group of American humorists, whose -work was read in England, and he lectured over there with pronounced -success. - - - _ON “FORTS”_ - -Every man has got a Fort. It’s sum men’s fort to do one thing, and -some other men’s fort to do another, while there is numeris shiftliss -critters goin’ round loose whose fort is not to do nothin’. - -Shakspeer rote good plase, but he wouldn’t hav succeeded as a -Washington coorespondent of a New York daily paper. He lacked the -rekesit fancy and imagginashun. - -That’s so! - -Old George Washington’s Fort was not to hev eny public man of the -present day resemble him to eny alarmin extent. Whare bowts can -George’s ekal be found? I ask, & boldly answer no whares, or any whare -else. - -Old man Townsin’s Fort was to maik Sassyperiller. “Goy to the world! -anuther life saived!” (Cotashun from Townsin’s advertisement.) - -Cyrus Field’s Fort is to lay a sub-machine telegraf under the boundin -billers of the Oshun, and then have it Bust. - -Spaldin’s Fort is to maik Prepared Gloo, which mends every thing. -Wonder ef it will mend a sinner’s wickid waze. (Impromptoo goak.) - -Zoary’s Fort is to be a femaile circus feller. - -My Fort is the grate moral show bizniss & ritin choice famerly -literatoor for the noospapers. That’s what’s the matter with _me_. - -&., &., &. So I mite go on to a indefinit extent. - -Twict I’ve endevered to do things which thay wasn’t my Fort. The fust -time was when I undertuk to lick a owdashus cuss who cut a hole in my -tent & krawld threw. Sez I, “My jentle Sir, go out or I shall fall on -to you putty hevy.” Sez he, “Wade in, Old wax figgers,” whereupon I -went for him, but he cawt me powerful on the bed & knockt me threw the -tent into a cow pastur. He pursood the attach & flung me into a mud -puddle. As I arose & rung out my drencht garmints I koncluded fitin -wasn’t my Fort. Ile now rize the kurtin upon Seen 2nd: It is rarely -seldum that I seek consolation in the Flowin Bole. But in a certain -town in Injianny in the Faul of 18--, my orgin grinder got sick with -the fever & died. I never felt so ashamed in my life, & I thowt I’d -hist in a few swallers of suthin strengthnin. Konsequents was I histid -in so much I dident zackly know whare bowts I was. I turned my livin -wild beasts of Pray loose into the streets and spilt all my wax wurks. -I then bet I cood play hoss. So I hitched myself to a Kanawl bote, -there bein two other hosses hicht on also, one behind and anuther ahead -of me. The driver hollerd for us to git up, and we did. But the hosses -bein onused to sich a arrangemunt begun to kick & squeal and rair up. -Konsequents was I fownd myself in the Kanawl with the other hosses, -kickin & yellin like a tribe of Cusscaroorus savvijis. I was rescood, & -as I was bein carrid to the tavern on a hemlock Bored I sed in a feeble -voise, “Boys, playin hoss isn’t my Fort.” - -_Morul._--Never don’t do nothin which isn’t your Fort, for ef you -do you’ll find yourself splashin round in the Kanawl, figgeratively -speakin. - - * * * * * - -Frank R. Stockton was a nobleman among the humorists. - -His quiet and often subtle humor, his delightful style and his -unique originality made all his stories a joy and some masterpieces. -No quotations can be given, for any Stockton story must be read in -its entirety. _The Lady and the Tiger_ is doubtless the most -celebrated one, but many others are even more clever and unusual. - - * * * * * - -Francis Bret Harte, famed for his short stories, also wrote humorous -verse. _The Heathen Chinee_ is a byword in all households, and -_Truthful James_ is nearly as well known. - - - _THE SOCIETY UPON THE STANISLAUS_ - - I reside at Table Mountain, and my name is Truthful James; - I am not up to small deceit, or any sinful games; - And I’ll tell in simple language what I know about the row - That broke up our Society upon the Stanislow. - - But first I would remark, that it is not a proper plan - For any scientific gent to whale his fellow man, - And, if a member don’t agree with his peculiar whim, - To lay for that same member for to “put a head” on him. - - Now, nothing could be finer or more beautiful to see - Than the first six months’ proceedings of that same society, - Till Brown of Calaveras brought a lot of fossil bones - That he found within a tunnel near the tenement of Jones. - - Then Brown he read a paper, and he reconstructed there, - From those same bones an animal that was extremely rare, - And Jones then asked the chair for a suspension of the rules - Till he could prove that those same bones was one of his lost mules. - - Then Brown he smiled a bitter smile, and said he was at fault; - It seemed he had been trespassing on Jones’s family vault - He was a most sarcastic man, this quiet Mr. Brown, - And on several occasions he had cleaned out the town. - - Now, I hold it is not decent for a scientific gent - To say another is an ass--at least, to all intent; - Nor should the individual who happens to be meant - Reply by heaving rocks at him to any great extent. - - Then Abner Dean of Angel’s raised a point of order--when - A chunk of old red sandstone took him in the abdomen, - And he smiled a kind of sickly smile, and curled up on the floor, - And the subsequent proceedings interested him no more. - - For, in less time than I write it, every member did engage - In a warfare with the remnants of a paleozoic age; - And the way they heaved those fossils in their anger was a sin, - Till the skull of an old mammoth caved the head of Thompson in. - - And this is all I have to say of these improper games, - For I live at Table Mountain, and my name is Truthful James; - And I’ve told in simple language what I know about the row - That broke up our Society upon the Stanislow. - - - _TO THE PLIOCENE SKULL_ - - “Speak, O man less recent! - Fragmentary fossil! - Primal pioneer of pliocene formation, - Hid in lowest drifts below the earliest stratum - Of volcanic tufa! - - “Older than the beasts, the oldest Palæotherium; - Older than the trees, the oldest Cryptogami; - Older than the hills, those infantile eruptions - Of earth’s epidermis! - - “Eo--Mio--Plio--Whatsoe’er the ’cene’ was - That those vacant sockets filled with awe and wonder-- - Whether shores Devonian or Silurian beaches-- - Tell us thy strange story! - - “Or has the professor slightly antedated - By some thousand years thy advent on this planet, - Giving thee an air that’s somewhat better fitted - For cold-blooded creatures? - - “Wert thou true spectator of that mighty forest - When above thy head the stately Sigillaria - Reared its columned trunks in that remote and distant - Carboniferous epoch? - - “Tell us of that scene--the dim and watery woodland - Songless, silent, hushed, with never bird or insect; - Veiled with spreading fronds and screened with tall clubmosses, - Lycopodiacea, - - When beside thee walked the solemn Plesiosaurus, - And around thee crept the festive Ichthyosaurus, - While from time to time above thee flew and circled - Cheerful Pterodactyls. - - “Tell us of thy food--those half-marine refections, - Crinoids on the shell and brachipods _au naturel_-- - Cuttle-fish to which the _pieuvre_ of Victor Hugo - Seems a periwinkle. - - “Speak, thou awful vestige of the earth’s creation, - Solitary fragment of remains organic! - Tell the wondrous secret of thy past existence-- - Speak! thou oldest primate!” - - Even as I gazed, a thrill of the maxilla, - And a lateral movement of the condyloid process, - With post-pliocene sounds of healthy mastication, - Ground the teeth together. - - And, from that imperfect dental exhibition, - Stained with expressed juices of the weed Nicotian, - Came these hollow accents, blent with softer murmurs - Of expectoration: - - “Which my name is Bowers, and my crust was busted - Falling down a shaft in Calaveras county, - But I’d take it kindly if you’d send the pieces - Home to old Missouri!” - -Pioneering in the West marked a distinct epoch in American humor. Bret -Harte owed his meteoric success largely to the fact of his utilizing -the background of the Golden West. And so did Joaquin Miller, John Hay -and Edward Rowland Sill. - -The Pike County Ballads of John Hay were national favorites. - - - _LITTLE BREECHES_ - - I don’t go much on religion, - I never ain’t had no show; - But I’ve got a middlin’ tight grip, sir, - On the handful o’ things I know. - I don’t pan out on the prophets - And free-will and that sort of thing-- - But I b’lieve in God and the angels, - Ever sence one night last spring. - - I come into town with some turnips, - And my little Gabe come along-- - No four-year-old in the county - Could beat him for pretty and strong, - Peart and chipper and sassy, - Always ready to swear and fight-- - And I’d larnt him to chaw terbacker - Jest to keep his milk-teeth white. - - The snow come down like a blanket - As I passed by Taggart’s store; - I went in for a jug of molasses - And left the team at the door. - They scared at something and started-- - I heard one little squall, - And hell-to-split over the prairie - Went team, Little Breeches and all. - - Hell-to-split over the prairie! - I was almost froze with skeer; - But we rousted up some torches, - And sarched for ’em far and near. - At last we struck horses and wagon, - Snowed under a soft white mound, - Upsot, dead beat--but of little Gabe - Nor hide nor hair was found. - - And here all hope soured on me, - Of my fellow-critter’s aid-- - I jest flopped down on my marrow-bones, - Crotch-deep in the snow, and prayed. - - * * * * * - - By this, the torches was played out, - And me and Isrul Parr - Went off for some wood to a sheepfold - That he said was somewhar thar. - - We found it at last, and a little shed - Where they shut up the lambs at night. - We looked in and seen them huddled thar, - So warm and sleepy and white; - And THAR sot Little Breeches, and chirped, - As peart as ever you see: - “I want a chaw of terbacker, - And that’s what’s the matter of me.” - - How did he git thar? Angels. - He could never have walked in that storm; - They jest scooped down and toted him - To whar it was safe and warm. - And I think that saving a little child, - And bringing him to his own, - Is a derned sight better business - Then loafing around The Throne. - -Joaquin Miller, whose true name was Cincinnatus Hiner Miller, was -called the Poet of the Sierras. - -He seldom wrote in humorous vein, but some of his verse must fall into -that category. - - - _THAT GENTLE MAN FROM BOSTON TOWN_ - - AN IDYL OF OREGON - - Two webfoot brothers loved a fair - Young lady, rich and good to see; - And oh, her black abundant hair! - And oh, her wondrous witchery! - Her father kept a cattle farm, - These brothers kept her safe from harm: - - From harm of cattle on the hill; - From thick-necked bulls loud bellowing - The livelong morning, loud and shrill, - And lashing sides like anything; - From roaring bulls that tossed the sand - And pawed the lilies from the land. - - There came a third young man. He came - From far and famous Boston town. - He was not handsome, was not “game,” - But he could “cook a goose” as brown - As any man that set foot on - The sunlit shores of Oregon. - - This Boston man he taught the school, - Taught gentleness and love alway, - Said love and kindness, as a rule, - Would ultimately “make it pay.” - He was so gentle, kind, that he - Could make a noun and verb agree. - - So when one day the brothers grew - All jealous and did strip to fight, - He gently stood between the two, - And meekly told them ’twas not right. - “I have a higher, better plan,” - Outspake this gentle Boston man. - - “My plan is this: Forget this fray - About that lily hand of hers; - Go take your guns and hunt all day - High up yon lofty hill of firs, - And while you hunt, my loving doves, - Why, I will learn which one she loves.” - - The brothers sat the windy hill, - Their hair shone yellow, like spun gold, - Their rifles crossed their laps, but still - They sat and sighed and shook with cold. - Their hearts lay bleeding far below; - Above them gleamed white peaks of snow. - - Their hounds lay couching, slim and neat; - A spotted circle in the grass. - The valley lay beneath their feet; - They heard the wide-winged eagles pass. - The eagles cleft the clouds above; - Yet what could they but sigh and love? - - “If I could die,” the elder sighed, - “My dear young brother here might wed.” - “Oh, would to Heaven I had died!” - The younger sighed, with bended head. - Then each looked each full in the face - And each sprang up and stood in place. - - “If I could die,”--the elder spake,-- - “Die by your hand, the world would say - ’Twas accident;--and for her sake, - Dear brother, be it so, I pray.” - “Not that!” the younger nobly said; - Then tossed his gun and turned his head. - - And fifty paces back he paced! - And as he paced he drew the ball; - Then sudden stopped and wheeled and faced - His brother to the death and fall! - Two shots rang wild upon the air! - But lo! the two stood harmless there! - - An eagle poised high in the air; - Far, far below the bellowing - Of bullocks ceased, and everywhere - Vast silence sat all questioning. - The spotted hounds ran circling round - Their red, wet noses to the ground. - - And now each brother came to know - That each had drawn the deadly ball; - And for that fair girl far below - Had sought in vain to silent fall. - And then the two did gladly “shake,” - And thus the elder bravely spake: - - “Now let us run right hastily - And tell the kind schoolmaster all! - Yea! yea! and if she choose not me, - But all on you her favors fall, - This valiant scene, till all life ends, - Dear brother, binds us best of friends.” - - The hounds sped down, a spotted line, - The bulls in tall, abundant grass, - Shook back their horns from bloom and vine, - And trumpeted to see them pass-- - They loved so good, they loved so true, - These brothers scarce knew what to do. - - They sought the kind schoolmaster out - As swift as sweeps the light of morn; - They could but love, they could not doubt - This man so gentle, “in a horn,” - They cried, “Now whose the lily hand-- - That lady’s of this webfoot land?” - - They bowed before that big-nosed man, - That long-nosed man from Boston town; - They talked as only lovers can, - They talked, but he could only frown; - And still they talked, and still they plead; - It was as pleading with the dead. - - At last this Boston man did speak-- - “Her father has a thousand ceows, - An hundred bulls, all fat and sleek; - He also had this ample heouse.” - The brothers’ eyes stuck out thereat, - So far you might have hung your hat. - - “I liked the looks of this big heouse-- - My lovely boys, won’t you come in? - Her father has a thousand ceows, - He also had a heap of tin. - The guirl? Of yes, the guirl, you see-- - The guirl, just neow she married me.” - -Robert Henry Newell, a popular journalist and humorist, wrote over the -name of Orpheus C. Kerr. His best known work is the Orpheus C. Kerr -Papers, but as a parodist he gives us these burlesque National Hymns. - - - I - - BY H--Y W. L-NGF---- W - - Back in the years when Phlagstaff, the Dane, was monarch - Over the sea-ribb’d land of the fleet-footed Norsemen, - Once there went forth young Ursa to gaze at the heavens-- - Ursa--the noblest of all the Vikings and horsemen. - - Musing, he sat in his stirrups and viewed the horizon, - Where the Aurora lapt stars in a North-polar manner, - Wildly he started,--for there in the heavens before him - Flutter’d and flam’d the original Star Spangled Banner. - - - II - - BY J-HN GR--NL--F WH--T--R - - My Native Land, thy Puritanic stock - Still finds its roots firm-bound in Plymouth Rock, - And all thy sons unite in one grand wish-- - To keep the virtues of Preservèd Fish. - - Preservèd Fish, the Deacon stern and true, - Told our New England what her sons should do, - And if they swerve from loyalty and right, - Then the whole land is lost indeed in night. - - - III - - BY DR. OL-V-R W-ND-L H-LMES - - A diagnosis of our hist’ry proves - Our native land a land its native loves; - Its birth a deed obstetric without peer, - Its growth a source of wonder far and near. - - To love it more behold how foreign shores - Sink into nothingness beside its stores; - Hyde Park at best--though counted ultra-grand-- - The “Boston Common” of Victoria’s land. - - - IV - - BY R-LPH W-LDO EM-R--N - - Source immaterial of material naught, - Focus of light infinitesimal, - Sum of all things by sleepless Nature wrought, - Of which the normal man is decimal. - - Refract, in prism immortal, from thy stars - To the stars bent incipient on our flag, - The beam translucent, neutrifying death, - And raise to immortality the rag. - - - V - - By W-LL--M C-LL-N B-Y-NT - - The sun sinks softly to his Ev’ning Post, - The sun swells grandly to his morning crown; - Yet not a star our Flag of Heav’n has lost, - And not a sunset stripe with him goes down. - - So thrones may fall, and from the dust of those - New thrones may rise, to totter like the last; - But still our Country’s nobler planet glows - While the eternal stars of Heaven are fast. - - - VI - - By N. P. W-LL-S - - One hue of our Flag is taken - From the cheeks of my blushing Pet, - And its stars beat time and sparkle - Like the studs on her chemisette. - - Its blue is the ocean shadow - That hides in her dreamy eyes, - It conquers all men, like her, - And still for a Union flies. - - - VII - - BY TH-M-S B-IL-Y ALD--CH - - The little brown squirrel hops in the corn, - The cricket quaintly sings, - The emerald pigeon nods his head, - And the shad in the river springs, - The dainty sunflow’r hangs its head - On the shore of the summer sea; - And better far that I were dead, - If Maud did not love me. - - I love the squirrel that hops in the corn, - And the cricket that quaintly sings; - And the emerald pigeon that nods his head, - And the shad that gaily springs. - I love the dainty sunflow ’r, too. - And Maud with her snowy breast; - I love them all;--but I love--I love-- - I love my country best. - -Edward Rowland Sill, writing of the West for many years, wrote -delightful humor on other subjects as well. - - - _EVE’s DAUGHTER_ - - I waited in the little sunny room: - The cool breeze waved the window-lace at play, - The white rose on the porch was all in bloom, - And out upon the bay - I watched the wheeling sea-birds go and come. - “Such an old friend--she would not make me stay - While she bound up her hair.” I turned, and lo, - Danæ in her shower! and fit to slay - All a man’s hoarded prudence at a blow: - Gold hair, that streamed away - As round some nymph a sunlit fountain’s flow. - “She would not make me wait!”--but well I know - She took a good half-hour to loose and lay - Those locks in dazzling disarrangement so! - -Newspaper humor of this period included the _Danbury News Man_, _Peck’s -Bad Boy_ and _Eli Perkins_ (Melville D. Landon). - -Charles E. Carryl, though his books are called Juveniles, wrote -delicious nonsense, approaching nearer to Lewis Carroll than any other -American writer. - - - _THE WALLOPING WINDOW-BLIND_ - - A capital ship for an ocean trip - Was the “Walloping Window-blind”-- - No gale that blew dismayed her crew - Or troubled the captain’s mind. - The man at the wheel was taught to feel - Contempt for the wildest blow, - And it often appeared, when the weather had cleared, - That he’d been in his bunk below. - - The boatswain’s mate was very sedate, - Yet fond of amusement, too; - And he played hop-scotch with the starboard watch, - While the captain tickled the crew. - And the gunner we had was apparently mad, - For he sat on the after rail, - And fired salutes with the captain’s boots, - In the teeth of the booming gale. - - The captain sat in a commodore’s hat - And dined in a royal way - On toasted pigs and pickles and figs - And gummery bread each day. - But the cook was Dutch and behaved as such: - For the food he gave the crew - Was a number of tons of hot-cross buns - Chopped up with sugar and glue. - - And we all felt ill as mariners will, - On a diet that’s cheap and rude; - And we shivered and shook as we dipped the cook - In a tub of his gluesome food. - Then nautical pride we laid aside, - And we cast the vessel ashore - On the Gulliby Isles, where the Poohpooh smiles, - And the Anagazanders roar. - - Composed of sand was that favored land, - And trimmed with cinnamon straws; - And pink and blue was the pleasing hue - Of the Tickletoeteaser’s claws. - And we sat on the edge of a sandy ledge - And shot at the whistling bee; - And the Binnacle-bats wore water-proof hats - As they danced in the sounding sea. - - On rubagub bark, from dawn to dark, - We fed, till we all had grown - Uncommonly shrunk,--when a Chinese junk - Came by from the torriby zone. - She was stubby and square, but we didn’t much care, - And we cheerily put to sea; - And we left the crew of the junk to chew - The bark of the rubagub tree. - -Robert Jones Burdette, known as the Burlington Hawkeye Man, was one of -the prototypes of our present day newspaper columnists. - -His witty verse and prose has lived, and he ranks with the humorists of -our land. - - - _WHAT WILL WE DO?_ - - What will we do when the good days come-- - When the prima donna’s lips are dumb. - And the man who reads us his “little things” - Has lost his voice like the girl who sings; - When stilled is the breath of the cornet-man, - And the shrilling chords of the quartette clan; - When our neighbours’ children have lost their drums-- - Oh, what will we do when the good time comes? - Oh, what will we do in that good, blithe time, - When the tramp will work--oh, thing sublime! - And the scornful dame who stands on your feet - Will “Thank you, sir,” for the proffered seat; - And the man you hire to work by the day, - Will allow you to do his work your way; - And the cook who trieth your appetite - Will steal no more than she thinks is right; - When the boy you hire will call you “Sir,” - Instead of “Say” and “Guverner”; - When the funny man is humorsome-- - How can we stand the millennium? - - - “_SOLDIER, REST!_” - - A Russian sailed over the blue Black Sea - Just when the war was growing hot, - And he shouted, “I’m Tjalikavakeree-- - Karindabrolikanavandorot-- - Schipkadirova-- - Ivandiszstova-- - Sanilik-- - Danilik-- - Varagobhot!” - - A Turk was standing upon the shore - Right where the terrible Russian crossed; - And he cried, “Bismillah! I’m Abd el Kor-- - Bazaroukilgonautoskobrosk-- - Getzinpravadi-- - Kilgekosladji-- - Grivido-- - Blivido-- - Jenikodosk!” - - So they stood like brave men, long and well, - And they called each other their proper names, - Till the lockjaw seized them, and where they fell - They buried them both by the Irdosholames-- - Kalatalustchuk-- - Mischaribustchup-- - Bulgari-- - Dulgari-- - Sagharimainz. - -Marietta Holley wrote with shrewd observation and much homely common -sense. Her books about Betsey Bobbet and Josiah Allen’s Wife were best -sellers in the seventies or thereabouts. - -Like many of her contemporaries for her fun she depended largely on -misspelling. - - * * * * * - -Here Betsey interrupted me. “The deah editah of the _Augah_ has -no need to advise me to read Tuppah, for he is indeed my most favorite -authar. You have devorhed him haven’t you, Josiah Allen’s wife?” - -“Devoured who?” says I, in a tone pretty near as cold as a cold icicle. - -“Mahtan Fahqueah Tuppah, that sweet authar,” says she. - -“No, mam,” says I shortly; “I hain’t devoured Martin Farquhar Tupper, -nor no other man. I hain’t a cannibal.” - -“Oh, you understand me not; I meant, devorhed his sweet tender lines.” - -“I hain’t devoured his tenderlines, nor nothin’ relatin’ to him,” and I -made a motion to lay the paper down, but Betsey urged me to go on, and -so I read: - - - _GUSHINGS OF A TENDAH SOUL_ - - “‘Oh, let who will, - Oh, let who can, - Be tied onto - A horrid male man.’ - - “Thus said I ere - My tendah heart was touched; - Thus said I ere - My tendah feelings gushed. - - “But oh, a change - Hath swept ore me, - As billows sweep - The ‘deep blue sea.’ - - “A voice, a noble form - One day I saw; - An arrow flew, - My heart is nearly raw. - - “His first pardner lies - Beneath the turf; - He is wondering now - In sorrow’s briny surf. - - “Two twins, the little - Death cherub creechahs, - Now wipe the teahs - From off his classic feachahs. - - “Oh, sweet lot, worthy - Angel arisen, - To wipe teahs - From eyes like hisen.” - -“What think you of it?” says she, as I finished readin’. - -I looked right at her ’most a minute with a majestic look. In spite -of her false curls and her new white ivory teeth, she is a humbly -critter. I looked at her silently while she sot and twisted her long -yellow bunnet-strings, and then I spoke out. “Hain’t the editor of the -_Augur_ a widower with a pair of twins?” - -“Yes,” says she, with a happy look. - -Then says I, “If the man hain’t a fool, he’ll think you are one.... -There is a time for everything, and the time to hunt affinity is before -you are married; married folks hain’t no right to hunt it,” says I -sternly. - -“We kindred soles soah above such petty feelin’s--we soah far above -them.” - -“I hain’t much of a soarer,” says I, “and I don’t pretend to be; and -to tell you the truth,” says I, “I am glad I hain’t.” “The editah of -the _Augah_,” says she, and she grasped the paper offen the stand -and folded it up, and presented it at me like a spear, “the editah of -this paper is a kindred sole; he appreciates me, he undahstands me, and -will not our names in the pages of this very papah go down to posterety -togathah?” - -“Then,” says I, drove out of all patience with her, “I wish you was -there now, both of you. I wish,” says I, lookin’ fixedly on her, “I -wish you was both of you in posterity now.” - - --_My Opinions and Betsey Bobbet’s._ - -George Thomas Lanigan wrote clever verse, of which _The Akhoond of -Swat_ is among the best. - - - _A THRENODY_ - -“The Akhoond of Swat is dead,”--_London Papers of January 22, -1878_. - - What, what, what, - What’s the news from Swat? - Sad news, - Bad news, - Cometh by cable led - Through the Indian Ocean’s bed, - Through the Persian Gulf, the Red - Sea and the Med- - Iterranean: he’s dead,-- - The Akhoond is dead! - - For the Akhoond I mourn. - Who wouldn’t? - He strove to disregard the message stern, - But he Akhoondn’t. - - Dead, dead, dead; - (Sorrow, Swats!) - Swats wha hae wi’ Akhoond bled, - Swats wham he hath often led - Onward to a gory bed, - Or to victory, - As the case might be,-- - Sorrow, Swats! - Tears shed, - Shed tears like water, - Your great Akhoond is dead! - That’s Swat’s the matter! - - Mourn, city of Swat, - Your great Akhoond is not, - But laid ’mid worms to rot,-- - His mortal part alone: his soul was caught - (Because he was a good Akhoond) - Up to the bosom of Mahound. - Though earthly walls his frame surround - (Forever hallowed be the ground), - And sceptics mock the lowly mound - And say, “He’s now of no Akhoond!” - His soul is in the skies,-- - The azure skies that bend above his loved metropolis of Swat; - He sees, with larger, other eyes, - Athwart all earthly mysteries; - He knows what’s Swat. - - Let Swat bury the great Akhoond - With a noise of mourning and of lamentation! - Let Swat bury the great Akhoond - With the noise of the mourning of the Swattish nation! - Fallen is at length - Its tower of strength. - Its sun is dimmed ere it had nooned, - Dead lies the great Akhoond, - The great Akhoond of Swat, - Is not! - -Lanigan also wrote Fables, which he signed G. Washington Æsop. - - - _THE OSTRICH AND THE HEN_ - -An Ostrich and a Hen chanced to occupy adjacent apartments, and the -former complained loudly that her rest was disturbed by the cackling -of her humble neighbor. “Why is it,” she finally asked the Hen, “that -you make such an intolerable noise?” The Hen replied, “Because I have -laid an egg.” “Oh, no,” said the Ostrich, with a superior smile, “it is -because you are a Hen and don’t know any better.” - -_Moral._--The moral of the foregoing is not very clear, but it -contains some reference to the Agitation for Female Suffrage. - - - _THE KIND-HEARTED SHE-ELEPHANT_ - -A kind-hearted She-Elephant, while walking through the Jungle where the -Spicy Breezes blow soft o’er Ceylon’s Isle, heedlessly set foot upon a -Partridge, which she crushed to death within a few inches of the Nest -containing its Callow Brood. “Poor little things!” said the generous -Mammoth. “I have been a Mother myself, and my affection shall atone for -the Fatal Consequences of my neglect.” So saying, she sat down upon the -Orphaned Birds. - -_Moral._--The above Teaches us What Home is Without a Mother; -also, that it is not every Person who should be entrusted with the Care -of an Orphan Asylum. - - * * * * * - -James Jeffrey Roche wrote delightful verse, which is properly classed -as _Vers de Société_, but which shows more wit than much of that -type. - - - _THE V-A-S-E_ - - From the madding crowd they stand apart, - The maidens four and the Work of Art; - - And none might tell, from sight alone, - In which had Culture ripest grown-- - - The Gotham Million, fair to see, - The Philadelphia Pedigree, - - The Boston Mind of azure hue, - Or the soulful Soul from Kalamazoo-- - - For all loved Art in a seemly way, - With an earnest soul and a capital A. - - * * * * * - - Long they worshiped; but no one broke - The sacred stillness, until up spoke - - The Western one from the nameless place, - Who blushing said, “What a lovely vace!” - - Over three faces a sad smile flew, - And they edged away from Kalamazoo. - - But Gotham’s haughty soul was stirred - To crush the stranger with one small word. - - Deftly hiding reproof in praise, - She cries, “’Tis, indeed, a lovely vaze!” - - But brief her unworthy triumph when - The lofty one from the house of Penn, - - With the consciousness of two grandpapas, - Exclaims, “It is quite a lovely vahs!” - - And glances round with an anxious thrill, - Awaiting the word of Beacon Hill. - - But the Boston maid smiles courteouslee, - And gently murmurs, “Oh, pardon me! - - “I did not catch your remark, because - I was so entranced with that lovely vaws!” - - _Dies erit praegelida - Sinistra quum Bostonia._ - - - _A BOSTON LULLABY_ - - Baby’s brain is tired of thinking - On the Wherefore and the Whence; - Baby’s precious eyes are blinking - With incipient somnolence. - - Little hands are weary turning - Heavy leaves of lexicon; - Little nose is fretted learning - How to keep its glasses on. - - Baby knows the laws of nature - Are beneficent and wise; - His medulla oblongata - Bids my darling close his eyes, - - And his pneumogastrics tell him - Quietude is always best - When his little cerebellum - Needs recuperative rest. - - Baby must have relaxation, - Let the world go wrong or right. - Sleep, my darling, leave Creation - To its chances for the night. - -Joel Chandler Harris is in a class by himself. Although he wrote other -things, he will always be remembered for the immortal Uncle Remus -stories. _The Tar Baby_ and _Brer Rabbit_ are known and loved -of all American families. A short bit is given from: - - - _THE SAD END OF BRER WOLF_ - -“Bimeby, one day w’en Brer Rabbit wuz fixin’ fer ter call on Miss Coon, -he heered a monst’us fussen clatter up de big road, en ’mos’ ’fo’ he -could fix his years fer ter lissen, Brer Wolf run in de do’. De little -Rabbits dey went inter dere hole in de cellar, dey did, like blowin’ -out a cannle. Brer Wolf wuz far’ly kiver’d wid mud, en mighty nigh -outer win’. - -“‘Oh, do pray save me, Brer Rabbit!’ sez Brer Wolf, sezee. ‘Do, please, -Brer Rabbit! de dogs is atter me, en dey’ll t’ar me up. Don’t you year -um comin’? Oh, do please save me Brer Rabbit! Hide me some’rs whar de -dogs won’t git me.’ - -“No quicker sed dan done. - -“‘Jump in dat big chist dar, Brer Wolf,’ sez Brer Rabbit sezee; ‘jump -in dar en make yo’se’f at home.’ - -“In jump Brer Wolf, down come de lid, en inter de hasp went de hook, en -dar Mr. Wolf wuz. Den Brer Rabbit went ter de lookin’-glass, he did, en -wink at hisse’f, en den he draw’d de rockin’-cheer in front er de fier, -he did, en tuck a big chaw terbarker.” - -“Tobacco, Uncle Remus?” asked the little boy incredulously. - -“Rabbit terbarker, honey. You know dis yer life ev’lastin’ w’at Miss -Sally puts ’mong de cloze in de trunk; well, dat’s rabbit terbarker. -Den Brer Rabbit sot dar long time, he did, turnin’ his mine over en -wukken’ his thinkin’ masheen. Bimeby he got up, en sorter stir ’roun’. -Den Brer Wolf open up: - -“‘Is de dogs all gone, Brer Rabbit?’ - -“‘Seem like I hear one un um smellin’ roun’ de chimbly cornder des now.’ - -“Den Brer Rabbit git de kittle en fill it full er water, en put it on -de fier. - -“‘W’at you doin’ now, Brer Rabbit?’ - -“‘I’m fixin’ fer ter make you a nice cup er tea, Brer Wolf.’ - -“Den Brer Rabbit went ter de cubberd, en git de gimlet, en commence for -ter bo’ little holes in de chist-lid. - -“‘W’at you doin’ now, Brer Rabbit?’ - -“‘I’m a-bo’in’ little holes so you kin get bref, Brer Wolf.’ - -“Den Brer Rabbit went out en git some mo’ wood, en fling it on de fier. - -“‘W’at you doin’ now, Brer Rabbit?’ - -“‘I’m a-chunkin’ up de fier so you won’t git cole, Brer Wolf.’ - -“Den Brer Rabbit went down inter de cellar en fotch out all his -chilluns. - -“‘W’at you doin’ now, Brer Rabbit?’ - -“‘I’m a-tellin’ my chilluns w’at a nice man you is, Brer Wolf.’ - -“En de chilluns, dey had ter put der han’s on her moufs fer ter keep -fum laffin’. Den Brer Rabbit he got de kittle en commenced fer to po’ -de hot water on de chist-lid. - -“‘W’at dat I hear, Brer Rabbit?’ - -“‘You hear de win’ a-blowin’, Brer Wolf.’ - -“Den de water begin fer ter sif’ thoo. - -“‘W’at dat I feel, Brer Rabbit?’ - -“‘You feels de fleas a-bitin’, Brer Wolf.’ - -“‘Dey er bitin’ mighty hard, Brer Rabbit.’ - -“‘Tu’n over on de udder side, Brer Wolf.’ - -“‘W’at dat I feel now, Brer Rabbit?’ - -“‘Still you feels de fleas, Brer Wolf.’ - -“‘Dey er eatin’ me up, Brer Rabbit,’ en dem wuz de las’ words er Brer -Wolf, kase de scaldin’ water done de bizness. - -“Den Brer Rabbit call in his nabers, he did, en dey hilt a reg’lar -juberlee; en ef you go ter Brer Rabbit’s house right now, I dunno but -w’at you’ll fine Brer Wolf’s hide hangin’ in de back-po’ch, en all -bekaze he wuz so bizzy wid udder fo’kses doin’s.” - - --_From Uncle Remus, His Songs and His Sayings._ - -Eugene Field, beside being the greatest of newspaper paragraphers was -a versatile writer of all sorts, from Christmas Hymns to the most -flippant themes. - -His own personal charm imbued his work, and whether writing _Echoes -of Horace_ or appalling tales of _Little Willie_, he was always -original and truly funny. - - - _THE DINKEY-BIRD_ - - In an ocean, ’way out yonder - (As all sapient people know), - Is the land of Wonder-Wander, - Whither children love to go; - It’s their playing, romping, swinging, - That give great joy to me - While the Dinkey-Bird goes singing - In the Amfalula-tree! - - There the gum-drops grow like cherries, - And taffy’s thick as peas,-- - Caramels you pick like berries - When, and where, and how you please: - Big red sugar-plums are clinging - To the cliffs beside that sea - Where the Dinkey-Bird is singing - In the Amfalula-tree. - - So when children shout and scamper - And make merry all the day, - When there’s naught to put a damper - To the ardor of their play; - When I hear their laughter ringing, - Then I’m sure as sure can be - That the Dinkey-Bird is singing - In the Amfalula-tree. - - For the Dinkey-Bird’s bravuras - And staccatos are so sweet-- - His roulades, appogiaturas, - And robustos so complete, - That the youth of every nation-- - Be they near or far away-- - Have especial delectation - In that gladsome roundelay. - - Their eyes grow bright and brighter, - Their lungs begin to crow, - Their hearts get light and lighter, - And their cheeks are all aglow; - For an echo cometh bringing - The news to all and me. - That the Dinkey-Bird is singing - In the Amfalula-tree. - - I’m sure you’d like to go there - To see your feathered friend-- - And so many goodies grow there - You would like to comprehend! - _Speed, little dreams, your winging - To that land across the sea - Where the Dinkey-Bird is singing - In the Amfalula-Tree!_ - - - _THE LITTLE PEACH_ - - A little peach in the orchard grew, - A little peach of emerald hue: - Warmed by the sun, and wet by the dew, - It grew. - - One day, walking the orchard through, - That little peach dawned on the view - Of Johnny Jones and his sister Sue-- - Those two. - - Up at the peach a club they threw: - Down from the limb on which it grew, - Fell the little peach of emerald hue-- - Too true! - - John took a bite, and Sue took a chew, - And then the trouble began to brew,-- - Trouble the doctor couldn’t subdue,-- - Paregoric too. - - Under the turf where the daisies grew, - They planted John and his sister Sue; - And their little souls to the angels flew-- - Boo-hoo! - - But what of the peach of emerald hue, - Warmed by the sun, and wet by the dew? - Ah, well! its mission on earth is through-- - Adieu! - - - _GOOD JAMES AND NAUGHTY REGINALD_ - -Once upon a Time there was a Bad boy whose Name was Reginald and there -was a Good boy whose Name was James. Reginald would go Fishing when his -Mamma told him Not to, and he Cut off the Cat’s Tail with the Bread -Knife one Day, and then told Mamma the Baby had Driven it in with the -Rolling Pin, which was a Lie. James was always Obedient, and when his -Mamma told him not to Help an old Blind Man across the street or Go -into a Dark Room where the Boogies were, he always Did What She said. -That is why they Called him Good James. Well, by and by, along Came -Christmas. Mamma said, You have been so Bad, my son Reginald, you will -not Get any Presents from Santa Claus this Year; but you, my Son James, -will get Oodles of Presents, because you have Been Good. Will you -Believe it, Children, that Bad boy Reginald said he didn’t Care a Darn -and he Kicked three Feet of Veneering off the Piano just for Meanness. -Poor James was so sorry for Reginald that he cried for Half an Hour -after he Went to Bed that Night. Reginald lay wide Awake until he saw -James was Asleep and then he Said if these people think they can Fool -me, they are Mistaken. Just then Santa Claus came down the Chimney. He -had lots of Pretty Toys in a Sack on his Back. Reginald shut his Eyes -and Pretended to be Asleep. Then Santa Claus Said, Reginald is Bad and -I will not Put any nice Things in his Stocking. But as for you, James, -I will Fill your Stocking Plumb full of Toys, because You are Good. -So Santa Claus went to Work and Put, Oh! heaps and Heaps of Goodies -in James’ stocking but not a Sign of a Thing in Reginald’s stocking. -And then he Laughed to himself and Said, I guess Reginald will be -sorry to-morrow because he Was so Bad. As he said this he Crawled up -the chimney and rode off in his Sleigh. Now you can Bet your Boots -Reginald was no Spring Chicken. He just Got right Straight out of Bed -and changed all those Toys and Truck from James’ stocking into his own. -Santa Claus will Have to Sit up all Night, said He, when he Expects to -get away with my Baggage. The next morning James got out of Bed and -when He had Said his Prayers he Limped over to his Stocking, licking -his chops and Carrying his Head as High as a Bull going through a Brush -Fence. But when he found there was Nothing in his stocking and that -Reginald’s Stocking was as Full as Papa Is when he comes home Late from -the Office, he Sat down on the Floor and began to Wonder why on Earth -he had Been such a Good boy. Reginald spent a Happy Christmas and James -was very Miserable. After all, Children, it Pays to be Bad, so Long as -you Combine Intellect with Crime. - - --_From the Tribune Primer._ - -Edgar Wilson Nye, known commonly as Bill Nye, wrote in prose and also -made a success on the lecture platform, as well as in his newspaper -work. - - - _THE GARDEN HOSE_ - -It is now the proper time for the cross-eyed woman to fool with the -garden hose. I have faced death in almost every form, and I do not know -what fear is, but when a woman with one eye gazing into the zodiac -and the other peering into the middle of next week, and wearing one -of those floppy sun-bonnets, picks up the nozzle of the garden hose -and turns on the full force of the institution, I fly wildly to the -Mountains of Hepsidam. - -Water won’t hurt any one, of course, if care is used not to forget and -drink any of it, but it is this horrible suspense and uncertainty about -facing the nozzle of a garden hose in the hands of a cross-eyed woman -that unnerves and paralyzes me. - -Instantaneous death is nothing to me. I am as cool and collected where -leaden rain and iron hail are thickest as I would be in my own office -writing the obituary of the man who steals my jokes. But I hate to be -drowned slowly in my good clothes and on dry land, and have my dying -gaze rest on a woman whose ravishing beauty would drive a narrow-gage -mule into convulsions and make him hate himself t’death. - - * * * * * - -Richard Kendall Munkittrick wielded a graceful pen and his verses show -an original wit. - - - _WHAT’S IN A NAME?_ - - In letters large upon a frame, - That visitors might see, - The painter placed his humble name, - O’Callaghan McGee. - - And from Beersheba unto Dan, - The critics with a nod - Exclaimed: “This painting Irishman - Adores his native sod. - - “His stout heart’s patriotic flame - There’s naught on earth can quell - He takes no wild romantic name - To make his pictures sell!” - - Then poets praised in sonnets neat - His stroke so bold and free; - No parlor wall was thought complete - That hadn’t a McGee. - - All patriots before McGee - Threw lavishly their gold; - His works in the Academy - Were very quickly sold. - - His “Digging Clams at Barnegat,” - His “When the Morning Smiled,” - His “Seven Miles from Ararat,” - His “Portrait of a Child,” - Were purchased in a single day - And lauded as divine. - - * * * * * - - That night as in his _atelier_ - The artist sipped his wine, - - And looked upon his gilded frames, - He grinned from ear to ear: - “They little think my _real_ name’s - V. Stuyvesant De Vere!” - -Edward Waterman Townsend, varied the time-honored tradition of -misspelling by introducing an example of Bowery slang. His _Chimmie -Fadden_ took a firm hold on the public notice and the vogue lasted -for many years. - - * * * * * - -“Naw, I ain’t stringin’ ye. ‘Is Whiskers is de loidy’s fadder. Sure! - -“’E comes ter me room wid der loidy, ’is Whiskers does, an’ he says, -says ’e, ‘Is dis Chimmie Fadden?’ says ’e. - -“‘Yer dead on,’ says I. - -“‘Wot t’ell?’ ’e says, turning to ’is daughter. ‘Wot does de young man -say?’ ’e says. - -“Den de loidy she kinder smiled--say, ye otter seed ’er smile. Say, -it’s outter sight. Dat’s right. Well, she says: ‘I t’ink I understan’ -Chimmie’s langwudge,’ she says. ‘‘E means ’e’s de kid youse lookin’ -fer. ’E’s de very mug.’ - -“Dat’s wot she says; somet’n like dat, only a felly can’t just remember -’er langwudge. - -“Den ’is Whiskers gives me a song an’ dance ’bout me bein’ a brave -young man fer t’umpin’ der mug wot insulted ’is daughter, an’ ’bout ’is -heart bein’ all broke dat ’is daughter should be doin’ missioner work -in de slums. - -“I says, ‘Wot tell’; but der loidy, she says, ‘Chimmie,’ says she, ‘me -fadder needs a footman,’ she says, ‘an’ I taut you’d be de very mug fer -de job,’ says she. See? - -“Say, I was all broke up, an’ couldn’t say nottin’, fer ’is Whiskers -was so solemn. See? - -“‘Wot’s yer lay now?’ says ’is Whiskers, or somet’n’ like dat. - -“Say, I could ’ave give ’im a string ’bout me bein’ a hard-workin’ boy, -but I knowed der loidy was dead on ter me, so I only says, says I, ‘Wot -t’ell?’ says I, like dat, ‘Wot t’ell?’ See? - -“Den ’is Whiskers was kinder paralized like, an’ ’e turns to ’is -daughter an’ ’e says--dese is ’is very words--’e says: - -“Really, Fannie,’ ’e says, ‘really, Fannie, you must enterpret dis -young man’s langwudge.’ - -“Den she laffs an’ says, says she: - -“Chimmie is a good boy if ’e only had a chance,’ she says. - -“Den ’is Whiskers ’e says, ‘I dare say,’ like dat. See? ‘I dare say.’ -See? Say, did ye ever ’ear words like dem? Say, I was fer tellin’ ’is -Whiskers ter git t’ell outter dat, only fer der loidy. See? - -“Well, den we all give each odder a song an’ dance, an’ de end was I -was took fer a footman. See? Tiger, ye say? Naw, dey don’t call me no -tiger. - -“Say, wouldn’t de gang on de Bow’ry be paralized if dey seed me in dis -harness? Ain’t it great? Sure! Wot am I doin’? Well, I’m doin’ pretty -well. I had ter t’ump a felly dey calls de butler de first night I was -dere for callin’ me a heathen. See? Say, dere’s a kid in de house wot -opens de front door when youse ring de bell, an’ I win all ’is boodle -de second night I was dere showin’ ’im how ter play Crusoe. Say, it’s a -dead easy game, but de loidy she axed me not to bunco de farmers--dey’s -all farmers up in dat house, dead farmers--so I leaves ’em alone. -’Scuse me now, dat’s me loidy comin’ outter der shop. I opens de door -of de carriage an’ she says, ‘Home, Chames.’ Den I jumps on de box an’ -strings de driver. Say, ’e’s a farmer, too. I’ll tell you some more -’bout de game next time. So long.” - - --_Chimmie Fadden._ - -Sam Walter Foss added to his misspelling a certain understanding of -human nature and produced many mildly satirical verses. - - - _A PHILOSOPHER_ - - Zack Bumstead useter flosserfize - About the ocean and the skies, - An’ gab an’ gas f’um morn till noon - About the other side the moon; - An’ ’bout the natur of the place - Ten miles beyend the end of space. - An’ if his wife she’d ask the crank - If he wouldn’t kinder try to yank - Hisself outdoors an’ git some wood - To make her kitchen fire good, - So she c’d bake her beans an’ pies, - He’d say, “I’ve gotter flosserfize.” - - An’ then he’d set an’ flosserfize - About the natur an’ the size - Of angels’ wings, an’ think, and gawp, - An’ wonder how they made ’em flop. - He’d calkerlate how long a skid - ’Twould take to move the sun, he did; - An’ if the skid wuz strong an’ prime, - It couldn’t be moved to supper-time. - An’ w’en his wife ’d ask the lout - If he wouldn’t kinder waltz about - An’ take a rag an’ shoo the flies, - He’d say, “I’ve gotter flosserfize.” - - An’ then he’d set an’ flosserfize - ’Bout schemes for fencing in the skies, - Then lettin’ out the lots to rent - So’s he could make an honest cent. - An’ if he’d find it pooty tough - To borry cash fer fencin’ stuff. - An’ if ’twere best to take his wealth - An’ go to Europe for his health, - Or save his cash till he’d enough - To buy some more of fencin’ stuff. - Then, if his wife she’d ask the gump - If he wouldn’t kinder try to hump - Hisself to t’other side the door - So she c’d come an’ sweep the floor, - He’d look at her with mournful eyes, - An’ say, “I’ve gotter flosserfize.” - - An’ so he’d set an’ flosserfize - ’Bout w’at it wuz held up the skies, - An’ how God made this earthly ball - Jest simply out er nawthin’ ’tall, - An’ ’bout the natur, shape, an’ form - Of nawthin’ that He made it from. - Then, if his wife sh’d ask the freak - If he wouldn’t kinder try to sneak - Out to the barn an’ find some aigs, - He’d never move, nor lift his laigs, - He’d never stir, nor try to rise, - But say, “I’ve gotter flosserfize.” - - An’ so he’d set an’ flosserfize - About the earth an’ sea an’ skies, - An’ scratch his head an’ ask the cause - Of w’at there wuz before time wuz, - An’ w’at the universe’d do - Bimeby w’en time had all got through; - An’ jest how fur we’d have to climb - If we sh’d travel out er time, - An’ if we’d need, w’en we got there - To keep our watches in repair. - Then, if his wife she’d ask the gawk - If he wouldn’t kinder try to walk - To where she had the table spread - An’ kinder git his stomach fed, - He’d leap for that ’ar kitchen door, - An’ say, “W’y didn’t you speak afore?” - An’ w’en he’d got his supper et, - He’d set, an’ set, an’ set, an’ set, - An’ fold his arms an’ shet his eyes, - An’ set, an’ set, an’ flosserfize. - -Finley Peter Dunne created the immortal Mr. Dooley about the time of -the Spanish War. - -The Irish dialect is perfect, the humor most droll and the wit quiet -and clean-cut. - -Among the best of the chapters is the one that burlesques the -proceedings that took place at a celebrated murder trial of the day. - - - _ON EXPERT TESTIMONY_ - -“Annything new?” said Mr. Hennessy, who had been waiting patiently for -Mr. Dooley to put down his newspaper. - -“I’ve been r-readin’ th’ tistimony iv th’ Lootgert case,” said Mr. -Dooley. - -“What d’ye think iv it?” - -“I think so,” said Mr. Dooley. - -“Think what?” - -“How do I know?” said Mr. Dooley. “How do I know what I think? -I’m no combination iv chemist, doctor, osteologist, polisman, an’ -sausage-maker, that I can give ye an opinion right off th’ bat. A man -needs to be all iv thim things to detarmine annything about a murdher -trile in these days. This shows how intilligent our methods is, as -Hogan says. A large German man is charged with puttin’ his wife away -into a breakfas’-dish, an’ he says he didn’t do it. Th’ question thin -is, Did or did not Alphonse Lootgert stick Mrs. L. into a vat, an’ -rayjooce her to a quick lunch? Am I right?” - -“Ye ar-re,” said Mr. Hennessy. - -“That’s simple enough. What th’ Coort ought to’ve done was to call him -up, an’ say: ‘Lootgert, where’s ye’er good woman?’ If Lootgert cudden’t -tell, he ought to be hanged on gin’ral principles; f’r a man must keep -his wife around th’ house, an’ whin she isn’t there it shows he’s a -poor provider. But, if Lootgert says, ‘I don’t know where me wife is,’ -the Coort shud say:’ Go out an’ find her. If ye can’t projooce her in -a week, I’ll fix ye.’ An’ let that be th’ end iv it. - -“But what do they do? They get Lootgert into coort an’ stand him up -befure a gang iv young rayporthers an’ th’ likes iv thim to make -pitchers iv him. Thin they summon a jury composed iv poor tired, sleepy -expressmen an’ tailors an’ clerks. Thin they call in a profissor from -a college. ‘Professor,’ says th’ lawyer f’r the State, ‘I put it to -ye if a wooden vat three hundherd an’ sixty feet long, twenty-eight -feet deep, an’ sivinty-five feet wide, an’ if three hundherd pounds -iv caustic soda boiled, an’ if the leg iv a guinea-pig, an’ ye said -yestherdah about bi-carbonate iv soda, an’ if it washes up an’ washes -over, an’ th’ slimy, slippery stuff, an’ if a false tooth or a lock iv -hair or a jawbone or a goluf ball across th’ cellar eleven feet nine -inches--that is, two inches this way an’ five gallons that?’ ‘I agree -with ye intirely,’ says th’ profissor. I made lab’ratory experiments in -an’ ir’n basin, with bichloride iv gool, which I will call soup-stock, -an’ coal-tar, which I will call ir’n filings. I mixed th’ two over a -hot fire, an’ left in a cool place to harden. I thin packed it in ice, -which I will call glue, an’ rock-salt, which I will call fried eggs, -an’ obtained a dark queer solution that is a cure f’r freckles, which I -will call antimony or doughnuts or annything I blamed please.’ - -“‘But,’ says th’ lawyer f’r th’ State, ‘measurin’ th’ vat with gas--an’ -I lave it to ye whether this is not th’ on’y fair test--an’ supposin’ -that two feet acrost is akel to tin feet sideways, an’ supposin’ that -a thick green an’ hard substance, an’ I daresay it wud; an’ supposin’ -you may, takin’ into account th’ measuremints--twelve be eight--th’ -vat bein’ wound with twine six inches fr’m th’ handle an’ a rub iv th’ -green, thin ar-re not human teeth often found in counthry sausage?’ ‘In -th’ winter,’ says th’ profissor. ‘But th’ sisymoid bone is sometimes -seen in th’ fut, sometimes worn as a watch-charm. I took two sisymoid -bones, which I will call poker dice, an’ shook thim together in a -cylinder, which I will call Fido, poored in a can iv milk, which I will -call gum arabic, took two pounds iv rough-on-rats, which I rayfuse to -call; but th’ raysult is th’ same.’ Question be th’ Coort: ‘Different?’ -Answer: ‘Yis.’ Th’ Coort: ‘Th’ same.’ Be Misther McEwen: ‘Whose -bones?’ Answer: ‘Yis.’ Be Misther Vincent: ‘Will ye go to th’ divvle?’ -Answer: ‘It dissolves th’ hair.’ - -“Now what I want to know is where th’ jury gets off. What has that -collection iv pure-minded pathrites to larn fr’m this here polite -discussion, where no wan is so crool as to ask what anny wan else -means? Thank th’ Lord, whin th’ case is all over, the jury’ll pitch -th’ tistimony out iv th’ window, an’ consider three questions: ‘Did -Lootgert look as though he’d kill his wife? Did his wife look as though -she ought so be kilt? Isn’t it time we wint to supper?’ An’, howiver -they answer, they’ll be right, an’ it’ll make little diff’rence wan way -or th’ other. Th’ German vote is too large an’ ignorant annyhow.” - - * * * * * - -George Ade, in the Biographical Dictionaries, is classed almost -exclusively as a playwright, but to those who know and love his -_Fables in Slang_,--and who does not?--he will always be a -humorist. - -His slang is all that slang should be, witty, trenchant, picturesque -and used but once. His own rule for slang stipulates that it shall be -impromptu, spontaneous and never repeated. - -From his opera _The Sultan of Sulu_, we quote one song. - - - _THE COCKTAIL_ - - The cocktail is a pleasant drink, - It’s mild and harmless--I don’t think! - When you have one, you call for two-- - And then you don’t care what you do. - - Last night I hoisted twenty-three - Of those arrangements into me; - My bosom heaved, I swelled with pride, - I was pickled, primed and ossified! - - But R-E-M-O-R-S-E-- - The water wagon is the place for me! - It is no time for mirth and laughter, - The cold, dark dawn of the Morning After! - - - _THE FABLE OF THE CADDY WHO HURT HIS HEAD WHILE THINKING_ - -One day a Caddy sat in the Long Grass near the Ninth Hole and wondered -if he had a Soul. His number was 27, and he almost had forgotten his -Real Name. - -As he sat and Meditated, two Players passed him. They were going the -Long Round, and the Frenzy was upon them. - -They followed the Gutta-Percha Balls with the intent swiftness of -trained Bird-Dogs, and each talked feverishly of Brassy Lies, and -getting past the Bunker, and Lofting to the Green, and Slicing into the -Bramble--each telling his own Game to the Ambient Air, and ignoring -what the other Fellow had to say. - -As they did the St. Andrews Full Swing for eighty Yards apiece and then -Followed Through with the usual Explanations of how it Happened, the -Caddy looked at them and Reflected that they were much inferior to his -Father. - -His Father was too Serious a Man to get out in Mardi Gras Clothes and -hammer a Ball from one Red flag to another. - -His Father worked in a Lumber-Yard. - -He was an Earnest Citizen, who seldom Smiled, and he knew all about the -Silver Question and how J. Pierpont Morgan done up a Free People on the -Bond Issue. - -The Caddy wondered why it was that his Father, a really Great Man, had -to shove Lumber all day and could seldom get one Dollar to rub against -another, while these superficial Johnnies who played Golf all the Time -had Money to Throw at the Birds. The more he Thought the more his Head -ached. - -MORAL.--_Don’t try to Account for Anything._ - - * * * * * - -Will Carleton wrote many long narrative ballads, of a homely type. His -_Betsey and I Are Out_, and _Over the Hills to the Poorhouse_, in their -day were known to every household. - -A shorter work is: - - - _ELIPHALET CHAPIN’S WEDDING_ - - ’Twas when the leaves of Autumn were by tempest-fingers picked, - Eliphalet Chapin started to become a benedict; - With an ancient two-ox waggon to bring back his new-found goods, - He hawed and gee’d and floundered through some twenty miles o’ - woods; - With prematrimonial ardour he his hornèd steeds did press, - But Eliphalet’s wedding journey didn’t bristle with success. - Oh no, - Woe, woe! - With candour to digress, - Eliphalet’s wedding journey didn’t tremble with success. - - He had not carried five miles his mouth-disputed face, - When his wedding garments parted in some inconvenient place; - He’d have given both his oxen to a wife that now was dead, - For her company two minutes with a needle and a thread. - But he pinned them up, with twinges of occasional distress, - Feeling that his wedding wouldn’t be a carnival of dress: - “Haw, Buck! - Gee, Bright! - Derned pretty mess!” - No; Eliphalet was not strictly a spectacular success. - - He had not gone a ten-mile when a wheel demurely broke, - A disunited family of felloe, hub, and spoke; - It joined, with flattering prospects, the Society of Wrecks; - And he had to cut a sapling, and insert it ’neath the “ex.” - So he ploughed the hills and valleys with that Doric wheel and tire, - Feeling that his wedding journey was not all he could desire. - “Gee, Bright! - G’long, Buck!” - He shouted, hoarse with ire! - No; Eliphalet’s wedding journey none in candour could admire! - - He had not gone fifteen miles with extended face forlorn, - When Night lay down upon him hard, and kept him there till morn; - And when the daylight chuckled at the gloom within his mind, - One ox was “Strayed or Stolen,” and the other hard to find. - So yoking Buck as usual, he assumed the part of Bright - (Constituting a menagerie diverting to the sight); - With “Haw, Buck! - Gee, Buck! - Sh’n’t get there till night!” - No; Eliphalet’s wedding journey was not one intense delight. - - Now, when he drove his equipage up to his sweetheart’s door, - The wedding guests had tired and gone, just half-an-hour before; - The preacher had from sickness an unprofitable call, - And had sent a voice proclaiming that he couldn’t come at all; - The parents had been prejudiced by some one, more or less, - And the sire the bridegroom greeted with a different word from - “bless.” - “Blank your head, - You blank!” he said; - “We’ll break this off, I guess!” - No; Eliphalet’s wedding was not an unqualified success. - - Now, when the bride saw him arrive, she shook her crimson locks, - And vowed to goodness gracious she would never wed an ox; - And with a vim deserving rather better social luck, - She eloped that day by daylight with a swarthy Indian “buck,” - With the presents in the pockets of her woollen wedding-dress; - And “Things ain’t mostly with me,” quoth Eliphalet, “I confess,” - No--no; - As things go, - No fair mind ’twould impress, - That Eliphalet Chapin’s wedding was an unalloyed success. - -Dr. William H. Drummond is best known humorously by his apt rendition -of the French-Canadian dialect. - - - _THE WRECK OF THE “JULIE PLANTE.”_ - - A Legend of Lake St. Peter. - - On wan dark night on Lac Saint Pierre, - De win’ she blow, blow, blow, - An’ de crew of de wood scow “Julie Plante” - Got scar’t, an’ run below-- - For de win’ she blow lak hurricain, - Bimeby she blow some more, - An’ de scow buss h’up on Lac Saint Pierre - Wan h’arpent from de shore. - - De captinne walk h’on de fronte deck, - An’ walk de hin’ deck too-- - He call de crew from h’up de ’ole - He call de cook h’also. - De crew she’s name was Rosie, - She’s come from Montreal, - Was chambre maid h’on lombaire barge, - H’on de Grande La Chine Canal. - - De win’ she’s blow from nor’-eass-wess-- - De sout’ win’ she’s blow too, - W’en Rosie cry, “Mon cher captinne, - Mon cher, w’at I shall do?” - Den de captinne trow de big h’ankerre, - But steel de scow she dreef, - De crew he can’t pass on de shore, - Becos he loss hees skeef. - - De night was dark lak’ wan black cat, - De wave run ’igh an’ fas’, - W’en de captinne tak’ de poor Rosie - An’ tie her to de mas’. - Den he h’also tak’ de life preserve, - An’ jomp h’off on de lak’, - An’ say, “Good-bye, ma Rosie dear, - I go drown for your sak’.” - - Nex’ morning very h’early - Bout haf-pas’ two--t’ree--four-- - De captinne--scow--an’ de poor Rosie - Was corpses on de shore. - For de win’ she blow lak’ hurricain, - Bimeby she blow some more, - An’ de scow bus’ h’up on Lac Saint Pierre, - Wan h’arpent from de shore. - - - MORAL - - Now h’all good wood scow sailor man - Tak’ warning by dat storm, - An’ go an’ marry some nice French girl - An’ leev on one beeg farm. - - De win’ can blow lak hurricain - An’ s’pose she blow some more, - You can’t get drown on Lac St. Pierre - So long you stay on shore. - -Ben King is responsible for at least two humorous jingles of wide -popularity. - - - _THE PESSIMIST_ - - Nothing to do but work; - Nothing to eat but food; - Nothing to wear but clothes, - To keep one from going nude. - - Nothing to breathe but air; - Quick as a flash ’tis gone; - Nowhere to fall but off; - Nowhere to stand but on. - - Nothing to comb but hair; - Nowhere to sleep but in bed; - Nothing to weep but tears; - Nothing to bury but dead. - - Nothing to sing but songs, - Ah, well, alas! alack! - Nowhere to go but out; - Nowhere to come but back. - - Nothing to see but sights; - Nothing to quench but thirst; - Nothing to have but what we’ve got; - Thus thro’ life we are cursed. - - Nothing to strike but a gait; - Everything moves that goes. - Nothing at all but common sense - Can ever withstand these woes. - - - _IF I SHOULD DIE TO-NIGHT_ - - If I should die to-night, - And you should come to my cold corpse and say, - Weeping and heartsick o’er my lifeless clay-- - If I should die to-night, - And you should come in deepest grief and wo-- - And say, “Here’s that ten dollars that I owe,” - I might arise in my large white cravat, - And say, “What’s that?” - - If I should die to-night, - And you should come to my cold corpse and kneel, - Clasping my bier to show the grief you feel, - I say, if I should die to-night, - And you should come to me, and there and then - Just even hint ’bout payin’ me that ten, - I might arise the while, - But I’d drop dead again. - -A humorous jingle that achieved immediate vogue is _Casey at the -Bat_. The authorship has been questioned but consensus of research -seems to ascribe it to Ernest Lawrence Thayer. - - - _CASEY AT THE BAT_ - - It looked extremely rocky for the Mudville nine that day; - The score stood four to six, with just an inning left to play; - And so, when Cooney died at first, and Burrows did the same, - A pallor wreathed the features of the patrons of the game. - - A straggling few got up to go, leaving there the rest, - With that hope which springs eternal within the human breast; - For they thought if only Casey could get one whack, at that - They’d put up even money, with Casey at the bat. - - But Flynn preceded Casey, and so likewise did Blake, - And the former was a pudding and the latter was a fake; - So on that stricken multitude a death-like silence sat, - For there seemed but little chance of Casey’s getting to the bat. - - But Flynn let drive a single to the wonderment of all, - And the much-despised Blakie tore the cover off the ball; - And when the dust had lifted, and they saw what had occurred, - There was Blakie safe on second, and Flynn a-hugging third. - - Then from the gladdened multitude went up a joyous yell, - It bounded from the mountain-top, and rattled in the dell; - It struck upon the hillside, and rebounded on the flat; - For Casey, mighty Casey, was advancing to the bat. - - There was ease in Casey’s manner as he stepped into his place, - There was pride in Casey’s bearing, and a smile on Casey’s face; - And when responding to the cheers he lightly doffed his hat, - No stranger in the crowd could doubt ’twas Casey at the bat. - - Ten thousand eyes were on him as he rubbed his hands with dirt, - Five thousand tongues applauded when he wiped them on his shirt; - Then while the writhing pitcher ground the ball into his hip, - Defiance glanced in Casey’s eye, a sneer curled Casey’s lip. - - And now the leather-covered sphere came hurtling through the air, - And Casey stood a-watching it in haughty grandeur there; - Close by the sturdy batsman the ball unheeded sped. - “That ain’t my style,” said Casey. “Strike one,” the umpire said. - - From the benches, black with people, there went up a muffled roar, - Like the beating of the storm-waves on a stern and distant shore; - “Kill him! kill the umpire!” shouted some one on the stand. - And it’s likely they’d have killed him had not Casey raised his - hand. - - With a smile of Christian charity great Casey’s visage shone, - He stilled the rising tumult; he bade the game go on; - He signaled to the pitcher, and once more the spheroid flew, - But Casey still ignored it, and the umpire said, “Strike two.” - - “Fraud!” cried the maddened thousands, and the echo answered, - “Fraud!” - But the scornful look from Casey, and the audience was awed; - They saw his face grow stern and cold, they saw his muscles strain, - And they knew that Casey wouldn’t let that ball go by again. - - The sneer is gone from Casey’s lips, his teeth are clenched in hate, - He pounds with cruel violence his bat upon the plate; - And now the pitcher holds the ball, and now he lets it go, - And now the air is shattered by the force of Casey’s blow. - - Oh! somewhere in this favored land the sun is shining bright, - The band is playing somewhere, and somewhere hearts are light; - And somewhere men are laughing, and somewhere children shout, - But there is no joy in Mudville--mighty Casey has struck out. - -John Kendrick Bangs, one time Editor of _Puck_, of lamented -memory, wrote tomes of humorous verse. As a pastime in tricky rhyming -we quote: - - - _MONA LISA_ - - Mona Lisa, Mona Lisa, - Have you gone? Great Julius Cæsar! - Who’s the Chap so bold and pinchey - Thus to swipe the great da Vinci, - Taking France’s first Chef d’œuvre - Squarely from old Mr. Louvre, - Easy as some pocket-picker - Would remove our handkerchicker - As we ride in careless folly - On some gaily bounding trolley? - - Mona Lisa, Mona Lisa, - Who’s your Captor? Doubtless he’s a - Crafty sort of treasure-seeker-- - Ne’er a Turpin e’er was sleeker-- - But, alas, if he can win you - Easily as I could chin you, - What is safe in all the nations - From his dreadful depredations? - He’s the style of Chap, I’m thinkin’ - Who will drive us all to drinkin’! - - Mona Lisa, Mona Lisa, - Next he’ll swipe the Tower of Pisa, - Pulling it from out its socket - For to hide it in his pocket; - Or perhaps he’ll up and steal, O, - Madame Venus, late of Milo; - Or maybe while on the grab he - Will annex Westminster Abbey, - And elope with that distinguished - Heap of Ashes long extinguished. - - Maybe too, O Mona Lisa, - He will come across the seas a-- - Searching for the style of treasure - That we have in richest measure. - Sunset Cox’s brazen statue, - Have a care lest he shall catch you - Or maybe he’ll set his eye on - Hammerstein’s, or the Flatiron, - Or some bit of White Wash done - By those lads at Washington-- - Truly he’s a crafty geezer, - Is your Captor, Mona Lisa! - -Thomas L. Masson, humorous writer, and for many years editor of -_Life_, has doubtless written more humor and books of humor than -any one in the country. - - - _THE KISS_ - - “What other men have dared, I dare,” - He said. “I’m daring, too: - And tho’ they told me to beware, - One kiss I’ll take from you. - - “Did I say one? Forgive me, dear; - That was a grave mistake, - For when I’ve taken one, I fear, - One hundred more I’ll take. - - “’Tis sweet one kiss from you to win, - But to stop there? Oh, no! - One kiss is only to begin; - There is no end, you know.” - - The maiden rose from where she sat - And gently raised her head: - “No man has ever talked like that-- - You may begin,” she said. - - - _DESOLATION_ - - Somewhat back from the village street - Stands the old fashioned country seat. - Across its antique portico - Tall poplar trees their shadows throw. - And there throughout the livelong day, - Jemima plays the pi-a-na. - Do, re, mi, - Mi, re, do. - - In the front parlor there it stands, - And there Jemima plies her hands, - While her papa, beneath his cloak, - Mutters and groans: “This is no joke!” - And swears to himself and sighs, alas! - With sorrowful voice to all who pass. - Do, re, mi, - Mi, re, do. - - Through days of death and days of birth - She plays as if she owned the earth - Through every swift vicissitude - She drums as if it did her good, - And still she sits from morn till night - And plunks away with main and might - Do, re, mi, - Mi, re, do. - - In that mansion used to be - Free-hearted hospitality; - But that was many years before - Jemima dallied with the score. - When she began her daily plunk, - Into their graves the neighbors sunk. - Do, re, mi, - Mi, re, do. - - To other worlds they’ve long since fled, - All thankful that they’re safely dead. - They stood the racket while alive - Until Jemima rose at five. - And then they laid their burdens down, - And one and all they skipped the town. - Do, re, mi, - Mi, re, do. - -Stephen Crane, a strange and often misunderstood genius, never waxed -humorous in a broad sense. But the incisive, satirical wit of his lines -can seldom be found bettered. - - A man said to the universe, - “Sir, I exist!” - “However,” replied the universe, - “The fact has not created in me - A sense of obligation.” - - Upon the road of my life, - Passed me many fair creatures, - Clothed all in white, and radiant; - To one, finally, I made speech: - “Who art thou?” - But she, like the others, - Kept cowled her face, - And answered in haste, anxiously, - “I am Good Deed, forsooth; - You have often seen me.” - - “Not uncowled,” I made reply. - And with rash and strong hand, - Though she resisted, - I drew away the veil, - And gazed at the features of Vanity. - She, shamefaced, went on; - And after I had mused a time, - I said of myself, “Fool!” - - “Think as I think,” said a man, - “Or you are abominably wicked; - You are a toad.” - And after I had thought of it, - I said, “I will, then, be a toad.” - -Charles Battell Loomis was a favorably known writer of humorous -jingles, and he wielded a facile pen in parody. - - - _JACK AND JILL_ - - (_As Austin Dobson might have written it_) - - Their pail they must fill - In a crystalline springlet, - Brave Jack and fair Jill. - Their pail they must fill - At the top of the hill, - Then she gives him a ringlet. - Their pail they must fill - In a crystalline springlet. - - They stumbled and fell, - And poor Jack broke his forehead, - Oh, how he did yell! - They stumbled and fell, - And went down pell-mell-- - By Jove! it was horrid. - They stumbled and fell, - And poor Jack broke his forehead. - - - (_As Swinburne might have written it_) - - The shudd’ring sheet of rain athwart the trees! - The crashing kiss of lightning on the seas! - The moaning of the night wind on the wold, - That erstwhile was a gentle, murm’ring breeze! - - On such a night as this went Jill and Jack - With strong and sturdy strides through dampness black - To find the hill’s high top and water cold, - Then toiling through the town to bear it back. - - The water drawn, they rest awhile. Sweet sips - Of nectar then for Jack from Jill’s red lips, - And then with arms entwined they homeward go; - Till mid the mad mud’s moistened mush Jack slips. - - Sweet Heaven, draw a veil on this sad plight, - His crazèd cries and cranium cracked; the fright - Of gentle Jill, her wretchedness and wo! - Kind Phœbus, drive thy steeds and end this night! - - - (_As Walt Whitman might have written it_) - - I celebrate the personality of Jack! - I love his dirty hands, his tangled hair, his locomotion blundering. - Each wart upon his hands I sing, - Pæans I chant to his hulking shoulder blades. - Also Jill! - Her I celebrate. - I, Walt, of unbridled thought and tongue, - Whoop her up! - What’s the matter with Jill? - Oh, she’s all right! - Who’s all right? - Jill. - - Her golden hair, her sun-struck face, her hard and reddened hands; - So, too, her feet, hefty, shambling. - I see them in the evening, when the sun empurples the horizon, and - through the darkening forest aisles are heard the sounds of - myriad creatures of the night. - I see them climb the steep ascent in quest of water for their - mother. - Oh, speaking of her, I could celebrate the old lady if I had time. - She is simply immense! - - But Jack and Jill are walking up the hill. - (I didn’t mean that rhyme.) - I must watch them. - I love to watch their walk, - And wonder as I watch; - He, stoop-shouldered, clumsy, hide-bound, - Yet lusty, - Bearing his share of the 1-lb bucket as though it were a - paperweight. - She, erect, standing, her head uplifting, - Holding, but bearing not the bucket. - They have reached the spring. - They have filled the bucket. - Have you heard the “Old Oaken Bucket”? - I will sing it:-- - - Of what countless patches is the bed-quilt of life composed! - Here is a piece of lace. A babe is born. - The father is happy, the mother is happy. - Next black crêpe. A beldame “shuffles off this mortal coil.” - Now brocaded satin with orange blossoms, - Mendelssohn’s “Wedding March,” an old shoe missile, - A broken carriage window, the bride in the Bellevue sleeping. - Here’s a large piece of black cloth! - “Have you any last words to say?” - “No.” - “Sheriff, do your work!” - Thus it is: from “grave to gay, from lively to severe.” - - I mourn the downfall of my Jack and Jill. - I see them descending, obstacles not heeding. - I see them pitching headlong, the water from the pail outpouring, a - noise from leathern lungs out-belching. - The shadows of the night descend on Jack, recumbent, bellowing, his - pate with gore besmeared. - I love his cowardice, because it is an attribute, just like - Job’s patience or Solomon’s wisdom, and I love attributes. - Whoop!!! - -Guy Wetmore Carryl, son of Charles E. Carryl, possessed a lovable and -whimsical nature and wielded an exceedingly clever pen, both in verse -and prose. His untimely death robbed us of one of our most delightful -young humorists. - - - _HOW A GIRL WAS TOO RECKLESS OF GRAMMAR_ - - Matilda Maud Mackenzie frankly hadn’t any chin, - Her hands were rough, her feet she turned invariably in; - Her general form was German, - By which I mean that you - Her waist could not determine - Within a foot or two. - And not only did she stammer, - But she used the kind of grammar - That is called, for sake of euphony, askew. - - From what I say about her, don’t imagine I desire - A prejudice against this worthy creature to inspire. - She was willing, she was active, - She was sober, she was kind, - But she _never_ looked attractive - And she _hadn’t_ any mind. - I knew her more than slightly, - And I treated her politely - When I met her, but of course I wasn’t blind! - - Matilda Maud Mackenzie had a habit that was droll, - She spent her morning seated on a rock or on a knoll, - And threw with much composure - A smallish rubber ball - At an inoffensive osier - By a little waterfall; - But Matilda’s way of throwing - Was like other people’s mowing, - And she never hit the willow-tree at all! - - One day as Miss Mackenzie with uncommon ardour tried - To hit the mark, the missile flew exceptionally wide. - And, before her eyes astounded, - On a fallen maple’s trunk - Ricochetted and rebounded - In the rivulet, and sunk! - Matilda, greatly frightened, - In her grammar unenlightened, - Remarked, “Well now I ast yer, who’d ’er thunk?” - - But what a marvel followed! From the pool at once there rose - A frog, the sphere of rubber balanced deftly on his nose. - He beheld her fright and frenzy - And, her panic to dispel, - On his knee by Miss Mackenzie - He obsequiously fell. - With quite as much decorum - As a speaker in a forum - He started in his history to tell. - - “Fair maid,” he said, “I beg you do not hesitate or wince, - If you’ll promise that you’ll wed me, I’ll at once become a prince; - For a fairy, old and vicious, - An enchantment round me spun!” - Then he looked up, unsuspicious, - And he saw what he had won, - And in terms of sad reproach, he - Made some comments, _sotto voce_, - (Which the publishers have bidden me to shun!) - - Matilda Maud Mackenzie said, as if she meant to scold; - “I _never_! Why, you forward thing! Now, ain’t you awful bold!” - Just a glance he paused to give her, - And his head was seen to clutch, - Then he darted to the river, - And he dived to beat the Dutch! - While the wrathful maiden panted - “I don’t think he was enchanted!” - (And he really didn’t look it overmuch!) - - THE MORAL - - In one’s language one conservative should be; - Speech is silver and it never should be free! - -Edwin Arlington Robinson, among the greatest of our later poets, has a -fine wit, nowhere better shown than in: - - - _MINIVER CHEEVY_ - - Miniver Cheevy, child of scorn, - Grew lean while he assailed the seasons; - He wept that he was ever born, - And he had reasons. - - Miniver loved the days of old - When swords were bright and steeds were prancing; - The vision of a warrior bold - Would set him dancing. - - Miniver sighed for what was not, - And dreamed and rested from his labors; - He dreamed of Thebes and Camelot - And Priam’s neighbors. - - Miniver mourned the ripe renown - That made so many a name so fragrant; - He mourned Romance, now on the town, - And Art, a vagrant. - - Miniver loved the Medici, - Albeit he had never seen one; - He would have sinned incessantly - Could he have been one. - - Miniver cursed the commonplace, - And eyed a khaki suit with loathing; - He missed the mediæval grace - Of iron clothing. - - Miniver scorned the gold he sought, - But sore annoyed he was without it; - Miniver thought and thought and thought - And thought about it. - - Miniver Cheevy, born too late, - Scratched his head and kept on thinking; - Miniver coughed, and called it fate, - And kept on drinking. - - - _TWO MEN_ - - There be two men of all mankind - That I should like to know about; - But search and question where I will, - I cannot ever find them out. - - Melchizedek he praised the Lord, - And gave some wine to Abraham; - But who can tell what else he did - Must be more learned than I am. - - Ucalegon he lost his house - When Agamemnon came to Troy; - But who can tell me who he was-- - I’ll pray the gods to give him joy. - - There be two men of all mankind - That I’m forever thinking on; - They chase me everywhere I go,-- - Melchizedek, Ucalegon. - -Arthur Guiterman, among the best of our present day humorous writers, -never did anything better than this intensified bit of burlesque. - - - _MAVRONE_ - - ONE OF THOSE SAD IRISH POEMS, WITH NOTES - - From Arranmore the weary miles I’ve come; - An’ all the way I’ve heard - A Shrawn[2] that’s kep’ me silent, speechless, dumb, - Not sayin’ any word. - An’ was it then the Shrawn of Eire,[3] you’ll say, - For him that died the death on Carrisbool? - It was not that; nor was it, by the way, - The Sons of Garnim[4] blitherin’ their drool; - Nor was it any Crowdie of the Shee,[5] - Or Itt, or Himm, nor wail of Barryhoo[6] - For Barrywhich that stilled the tongue of me. - ’Twas but my own heart cryin’ out for you - Magraw![7] Bulleen, shinnanigan, Boru, - Aroon, Machree, Aboo![8] - - - _ELEGY_ - - The jackals prowl, the serpents hiss - In what was once Persepolis. - Proud Babylon is but a trace - Upon the desert’s dusty face. - The topless towers of Ilium - Are ashes. Judah’s harp is dumb. - The fleets of Nineveh and Tyre - Are down with Davy Jones, Esquire - And all the oligarchies, kings, - And potentates that ruled these things - Are gone! But cheer up; don’t be sad; - Think what a lovely time they had! - -Oliver Herford, born in England but living most of his life in America, -has without doubt the most humorous soul in the world. - -His art, which is pictorial as well as literary, is unique and of an -intangible, indescribable nature. - -As graceful of fancy as Spenser, as truly funny as Sir William Gilbert, -he also possesses a deep philosophy and a perfect technique. - - - _PHYLLIS LEE_ - - Beside a Primrose ’broider’d Rill - Sat Phyllis Lee in Silken Dress - Whilst Lucius limn’d with loving skill - Her likeness, as a Shepherdess. - Yet tho’ he strove with loving skill - His Brush refused to work his Will. - - “Dear Maid, unless you close your Eyes - I cannot paint to-day,” he said; - “Their Brightness shames the very Skies - And turns their Turquoise into Lead.” - Quoth Phyllis, then, “To save the Skies - And speed your Brush, I’ll shut my Eyes.” - - Now when her Eyes were closed, the Dear, - Not dreaming of such Treachery, - Felt a Soft Whisper in her Ear, - “Without the Light, how can one See?” - “If you are _sure_ that none can see - I’ll keep them shut,” said Phyllis Lee. - - - _SOME GEESE_ - - Ev-er-y child who has the use - Of his sen-ses knows a goose. - See them un-der-neath the tree - Gath-er round the goose-girl’s knee, - While she reads them by the hour - From the works of Scho-pen-hau-er. - - How pa-tient-ly the geese at-tend! - But do they re-al-ly com-pre-hend - What Scho-pen-hau-er’s driv-ing at? - Oh, not at all; but what of that? - Nei-ther do I; nei-ther does she; - And, for that mat-ter, nor does he. - - - _THE CHIMPANZEE_ - - Children, behold the Chimpanzee: - He sits on the ancestral tree - From which we sprang in ages gone. - I’m glad we sprang: had we held on, - We might, for aught that I can say, - Be horrid Chimpanzees to-day. - - - _THE HEN_ - - Alas! my Child, where is the Pen - That can do Justice to the Hen? - Like Royalty, She goes her way, - Laying foundations every day, - Though not for Public Buildings, yet - For Custard, Cake and Omelette. - - Or if too Old for such a use - They have their Fling at some Abuse, - As when to Censure Plays Unfit - Upon the Stage they make a Hit, - Or at elections Seal the Fate - Of an Obnoxious Candidate. - No wonder, Child, we prize the Hen, - Whose Egg is Mightier than the Pen. - - - _MARK TWAIN: A PIPE DREAM_ - - Well I recall how first I met - Mark Twain--an infant barely three - Rolling a tiny cigarette - While cooing on his nurse’s knee. - - Since then in every sort of place - I’ve met with Mark and heard him joke, - Yet how can I describe his face? - I never saw it for the smoke. - - At school he won a _smokership_, - At Harvard College (Cambridge, Mass.) - His name was soon on every lip, - They made him “_smoker_” of his class. - - Who will forget his smoking bout - With Mount Vesuvius--our cheers-- - When Mount Vesuvius went out - And didn’t smoke again for years? - - The news was flashed to England’s King, - Who begged Mark Twain to come and stay, - Offered him dukedoms--anything - To smoke the London fog away. - - But Mark was firm. “I bow,” said he, - “To no imperial command, - No ducal coronet for me, - My smoke is for my native land!” - - For Mark there waits a brighter crown! - When Peter comes his card to read-- - He’ll take the sign “No Smoking” down, - --Then Heaven will be Heaven indeed. - - - _GOLD_ - - Some take their gold - In minted mold, - And some in harps hereafter, - But give me mine - In tresses fine, - And keep the change in laughter! - - - _AFTER HERRICK_ - - _SONG_ - - Gather Kittens while you may, - Time brings only Sorrow; - And the Kittens of To-day - Will be Old Cats To-morrow. - - - _THE PRODIGAL EGG_ - - An egg of humble sphere - By vain ambition stung, - Once left his mother dear - When he was very young. - - ’Tis needless to dilate - Upon a tale so sad; - The egg, I grieve to state, - Grew very, very bad. - - At last when old and blue, - He wandered home, and then - They gently broke it to - The loving mother hen. - - She only said, in fun, - “I fear you’re spoiled, my son!” - -Frank Gelett Burgess, one time editor of _The Lark_, a short-lived -humorous periodical, is at his best in the realms of sheer nonsense. -His _Purple Cow_ has a nation-wide reputation and his humorous -excursions into the French Forms are always marked by exact precision -as to rule and law. - - - _THE PURPLE COW_ - - I never saw a Purple Cow, - I never hope to see one; - But I can tell you, anyhow, - I’d rather see than be one. - - - _THE INVISIBLE BRIDGE_ - - I’d Never Dare to Walk across - A Bridge I Could Not See; - For Quite afraid of Falling off, - I fear that I Should Be! - - - _VILLANELLE OF THINGS AMUSING_ - - These are the things that make me laugh-- - Life’s a preposterous farce, say I! - And I’ve missed of too many jokes by half. - - The high-heeled antics of colt and calf, - The men who think they can act, and try-- - These are the things that make me laugh. - - The hard-boiled poses in photograph, - The groom still wearing his wedding tie-- - And I’ve missed of too many jokes by half! - - These are the bubbles I gayly quaff - With the rank conceit of the new-born fly-- - These are the things that make me laugh! - - For, Heaven help me! I needs must chaff, - And people will tickle me till I die-- - And I’ve missed of too many jokes by half! - - So write me down in my epitaph - As one too fond of his health to cry-- - These are the things that make me laugh, - And I’ve missed of too many jokes by half! - - - _PSYCHOLOPHON_ - - _Supposed to be Translated from the Old Parsee_ - - Twine then the rays - Round her soft Theban tissues! - All will be as She says, - When that dead past reissues. - Matters not what nor where, - Hark, to the moon’s dim cluster! - How was her heavy hair - Lithe as a feather duster! - Matters not when nor whence; - Flittertigibbet! - Sounds make the song, not sense, - Thus I inhibit! - -Carolyn Wells has written much humorous verse and prose. Her work has -appeared in many of the periodicals and in book form. - - - _THE IDIOT’S DELIGHT_ - - A curious man of the human clan - Is a man who fools himself; - Who thinks he can swing the Pierian spring - Through a conduit of books on a shelf! - Who thinks if he pores in the old bookstores - And browses among the rares, - He is fit to belong to the scholarly throng - And gives himself scholarly airs. - - He gasps as he speaks of his worn antiques-- - With emotion almost dumb! - Or he solemnly turns his Kilmarnock Burns - With an awed and reverent thumb; - He’ll scrimp to possess a Kelmscott Press, - And hoard up his hard-earned wage - Till he saves the cost of a Paradise Lost - With the right sort of title page. - - If he has on his shelves some dumpy twelves, - Of which he’s a connoisseur, - The bibliophile, with a fatuous smile, - Believes he’s a littérateur! - Because he achieves incunabula leaves, - On himself as a scholar he’ll look; - Though I’m ready to bet no scholar _I’ve_ met - Has ever collected a book! - - The difference, you see, in the viewpoint must be, - And it _is_ a distinction nice; - A scholar will look at the worth of a book, - A collector will think of its price. - He nearly bursts with pride in his firsts; - And you can’t get it into his dome - That he cannot affect his intellect - By buying a tattered tome! - - A collector _may_ have matter gray, - He _may_ have wisdom, too; - As he may have a head of a carroty red - Or eyes of a chicory blue. - But he has these things by the grace of God; - Especially his good looks; - By Nature’s laws, and _not_ because - The things he collects are _books_! - - And so I maintain there is no brain, - No genius or talent or mind, - Required to look for a certain book, - Or to struggle that book to find. - No collector reads his precious screeds, - He appraises his books by sight; - And I make claim that the blooming game - Is the idiot’s delight! - - - _THE MYSTERY_ - - I can understand politics, civics and law, - Of national issues I have no great awe; - The theories of Einstein are simple to me, - And psychoanalysis mere A. B. C. - But there is one thing I can’t get in my head-- - Why _do_ people marry the people they wed? - - I can do mathematics, no matter how high; - And to me fourth dimension is easy as pie; - Most intricate problems I readily solve, - And I know why the nebular spirals revolve. - But on this baffling question no light has been shed; - Why _do_ people marry the people they wed? - - Long hours over Nietzsche I frequently spend, - I’ve all his philosophy at my tongue’s end. - Of Freudian conclusions I haven’t a doubt. - I’ve got human complexes all straightened out. - But on this deep problem I muse in my bed-- - Why _do_ people marry the people they wed? - - I’ve studied up ancient religions and cults, - I’ve tried spiritism with curious results; - I know the Piltdown and Neanderthal man, - How big is Betelgeuse and how old is Ann; - But this I shall wonder about till I’m dead-- - Why _do_ people marry the people they wed? - - - _WOMAN_ - - Women are dear and women are queer - Men call them, with a laugh, - The female of the species, - Or a husband’s better half. - They sing their praise in many ways, - They flatter them--but, oh, - How little they know of Woman - Who only women know! - - Now women are pert and women will flirt, - And they’re catty and rude and vain; - And sometimes they’re witty and sometimes they’re pretty-- - And sometimes they’re awfully plain. - But Woman is rare beyond compare, - The poets tell us so; - How little they know of Woman - Who only women know! - - Women are petty and women are fretty, - They try to hide their years; - They steadily nag and nervously rag, - And frequently burst into tears. - But Woman is gracious, serene and calm, - Above all tricks or arts, - Her sympathy’s like a soothing balm - To sad and sorrowing hearts. - - Women are very perverse and contrary, - They will contradict you flat; - Oh, women I’ll call the devil and all, - There’s no denying that! - But Woman, oh, men, is beyond our ken, - Too angelic for mortals below; - How little they know of Woman - Who only women know! - - - _A SYMPOSIUM OF POETS_ - -Once upon a time a few of the greatest Poets of all ages gathered -together for the purpose of discussing the merits of the Classic Poem: - - Peter, Peter, Pumpkin Eater, - Had a wife and couldn’t keep her, - Put her in a Pumpkin shell, - And there he kept her very well. - -In many ways this historic narrative called forth admiration. One must -admit Peter’s great strength of character, his power of quick decision, -and immediate achievement. Some hold that his inability to retain the -lady’s affection in the first place, argues a defect in his nature; -but remembering the lady’s youth and beauty (implied by the spirit of -the whole poem), we can only reiterate our appreciation of the way -he conquered circumstances, and proved himself master of his fate, -and captain of his soul! Truly, the Pumpkin-Eaters must have been a -forceful race, able to defend their rights and rule their people. - -The Poets at their symposium unanimously felt that the style of the -poem, though hardly to be called crude, was a little bare, and they -took up with pleasure the somewhat arduous task of rewriting it. - -Mr. Ed. Poe opined that there was lack of atmosphere, and that the -facts of the narrative called for a more impressive setting. He -therefore offered: - - The skies, they were ashen and sober, - The lady was shivering with fear; - Her shoulders were shud’ring with fear. - On a dark night in dismal October, - Of his most Matrimonial Year. - It was hard by the cornfield of Auber, - In the musty Mud Meadows of Weir, - Down by the dank frog-pond of Auber, - In the ghoul-haunted cornfield of Weir. - - Now, his wife had a temper Satanic, - And when Peter roamed here with his Soul, - Through the corn with his conjugal Soul, - He spied a huge pumpkin Titanic, - And he popped her right in through a hole. - Then solemnly sealed up the hole. - - And thus Peter Peter has kept her - Immured in Mausoleum gloom, - A moist, humid, damp sort of gloom. - And though there’s no doubt he bewept her, - She is still in her yellow hued tomb, - Her unhallowed, Hallowe’en tomb - And ever since Peter side-stepped her, - He calls her his lost Lulalume, - His Pumpkin-entombed Lulalume. - -This was received with acclaim, but many objected to the mortuary -theory. - - * * * * * - -Mrs. Robert Browning was sure that Peter’s love for his wife, though -perhaps that of a primitive man, was of the true Portuguese stamp, and -with this view composed the following pleasing Sonnet: - - How do I keep thee? Let me count the ways. - I bar up every breadth and depth and height - My hands can reach, while feeling out of sight - For bolts that stick and hasps that will not raise. - I keep thee from the public’s idle gaze, - I keep thee in, by sun or candle light. - I keep thee, rude, as women strive for Right. - I keep thee boldly, as they seek for praise, - I keep thee with more effort than I’d use - To keep a dry-goods shop or big hotel. - I keep thee with a power I seemed to lose - With that last cook. I’ll keep thee down the well, - Or up the chimney-place! Or if I choose, - I shall but keep thee in a Pumpkin shell. - -This was of course meritorious, though somewhat suggestive of the -cave-men, who, we have never been told, were Pumpkin Eaters. - -Austin Dobson’s version was really more ladylike: - - - _BALLADE OF A PUMPKIN_ - - Golden-skinned, delicate, bright, - Wondrous of texture and hue, - Bathed in a soft, sunny light, - Pearled with a silvery dew. - Fair as a flower to the view, - Ripened by summer’s soft heat, - Basking beneath Heaven’s blue,-- - This is the Pumpkin of Pete. - - Peter consumed day and night, - Pumpkin in pie or in stew; - Hinted to Cook that she might - Can it for winter use, too. - Pumpkin croquettes, not a few, - Peter would happily eat; - Knowing content would ensue,-- - This is the Pumpkin of Pete. - - Everything went along right, - Just as all things ought to do; - Till Peter,--unfortunate wight,-- - Married a girl that he knew, - Each day he had to pursue, - His runaway Bride down the street,-- - So her into prison he threw,-- - This is the Pumpkin of Pete. - - - _L’envoi_ - - Lady, a sad lot, ’tis true, - Staying your wandering feet; - But ’tis the best place for you,-- - This is the Pumpkin of Pete. - -Like the other women present Dinah Craik felt the pathos of the -situation, and gave vent to her feelings in this tender burst of song: - - Could I come back to you Peter, Peter, - From this old pumpkin that I hate; - I would be so tender, so loving, Peter,-- - Peter, Peter, gracious and great. - - You were not half worthy of me, Peter, - Not half worthy the like of I; - Now all men beside are not in it, Peter,-- - Peter, Peter, I feel like a pie. - - Stretch out your hand to me, Peter, Peter, - Let me out of this Pumpkin, do; - Peter, my beautiful Pumpkin Eater, - Peter, Peter, tender and true. - -Mr. Hogg took his own graceful view of the matter, thus: - - Lady of wandering, - Blithesome, meandering, - Sweet was thy flitting o’er moorland and lea; - Emblem of restlessness, - Blest be thy dwelling place, - Oh, to abide in the Pumpkin with thee. - - Peter, though bland and good, - Never thee understood, - Or he had known how thy nature was free; - Goddess of fickleness, - Blest be thy dwelling place, - Oh, to abide in the Pumpkin with thee. - -Mr. Kipling grasped at the occasion for a ballad in his best vein. The -plot of the story aroused his old time enthusiasm, and he transplanted -the pumpkin eater and his wife to the scenes of his earlier powers: - - In a great big Mammoth pumpkin - Lookin’ eastward to the sea, - There’s a wife of mine a-settin’ - And I know she’s mad at me. - For I hear her calling, “Peter!” - With a wild hysteric shout; - “Come you back, you Punkin Eater,-- - Come you back and let me out!” - For she’s in a punkin shell, - I have locked her in her cell; - But it really is a comfy, well-constructed punkin shell; - And there she’ll have to dwell, - For she didn’t treat me well, - So I put her in the punkin and I’ve kept her very well. - -Algernon Swinburne was also in one of his early moods, and as a result -he wove the story into this exquisite fabric of words: - - - _IN THE PUMPKIN_ - - Leave go my hands. Let me catch breath and see, - What is this confine either side of me? - Green pumpkin vines about me coil and crawl, - Seen sidelong, like a ’possum in a tree,-- - Ah me, ah me, that pumpkins are so small! - - Oh, my fair love, I charge thee, let me out; - From this gold lush encircling me about; - I turn and only meet a pumpkin wall. - The crescent moon shines slim,--but I am stout,-- - Ah me, ah me, that pumpkins are so small! - - Pumpkin seeds like cold sea blooms bring me dreams; - Ah, Pete,--too sweet to me,--my Pete, it seems - Love like a Pumpkin holds me in its thrall; - And overhead a writhen shadow gleams,-- - Ah me, ah me, that pumpkins are so small! - -This intense poesy thrilled the heavens, and it was with a sense of -relief to their throbbing souls that they listened to Mr. Bret Harte’s -contribution: - - Which I wish to remark, - That the lady was plain; - And for ways that are dark - And for tricks that are vain, - She had predilections peculiar, - And drove Peter nearly insane. - - Far off, anywhere, - She wandered each day; - And though Peter would swear, - The lady would stray; - And whenever he thought he had got her, - She was sure to be rambling away. - - Said Peter, “My Wife, - Hereafter you dwell - For the rest of your life - In a big Pumpkin Shell.” - He popped her in one that was handy, - And since then he’s kept her quite well. - - Which is why I remark, - Though the lady was plain, - For ways that are dark - And tricks that are vain, - A husband is very peculiar, - And the same I am free to maintain. - -Oscar Wilde in a poetic fervour and a lily-like kimono, recited with -tremulous intensity this masterpiece of his own: - - Oh, Peter! Pumpkin-fed and proud, - Ah me! ah me! - (Sweet squashes, mother!) - Thy woe knells like a stricken cloud; - (Ah me; ah me! - Hurroo, Hurree!) - - Lo! vanisht like an anguisht wraith; - Ah me! ah me! - (Sweet squashes, mother!) - Wan hope a dolorous Musing saith; - (Ah me; ah me! - Dum diddle dee!) - - Hist! dare we soar? The Pumpkin shell - Ah me! ah me! - (Sweet squashes, mother!) - (Fast and forever! Sooth, ’tis well. - (Ah me; ah me! - Faloodle dee!) - -There was little to be said after this, so the meeting was closed with -a solo by Lady Arthur Hill, using with a truly touching touch: - - In the pumpkin, oh, my darling, - Think not bitterly of me; - Though I went away in silence, - Though I couldn’t set you free. - For my heart was filled with longing, - For another piece of pie; - It was best to leave you there, dear, - Best for you and best for I. - -Two of our most gentle and kindly humorists may not be quoted, because -it would be a crime to separate their text and pictures. - -Peter Newell and J. G. Francis have drawn some of the most delicately -witty pictures and have written quatrains or Limericks to accompany -them, but picture and text must be shown together, if at all. - -For the same reason our cartoonists may not be touched upon. - -Nor can we include any writers whose work did not appear before 1900. - -The scope of this book is bounded by the twentieth century, and much -as we should like to present the Columnists and the more recent -versifiers, they must be left for a later chronicler. - - - - - INDEX - - - _About a Woman’s Promise_, Unknown, 172 - - ABRAHAM Á SANCTA CLARA, - _Burdensome Wife, A_ (from _Hie! Fie!_), 413 - _Donkey’s Voice, The_ (from _Judas, the Arch-Rogue_), 412 - _St. Anthony’s Sermon to the Fishes_, 413 - - ABU ISHAK, - _Parody on Hafiz_, 154 - - _Academy of Syllographs, The_, Count Giacomo Leopardi, 616 - - _Acrostics_, Sir John Davies, 309 - - ADAMS, JOHN QUINCY, - _To Sally_, 650 - - ADDISON, JOSEPH, 421 - _Will of a Virtuoso, The_ (from _The Tatler_), 422 - - _Address to Bacchus, An_, Marc-Antoine Gerard, 392 - - _Address to the Toothache_, Robert Burns, 444 - - ADE, GEORGE, - _Cocktail, The_ (from _The Sultan of Sulu_), 722 - _Fable of the Caddy Who Hurt His Head While Thinking, The_, 723 - - _Adventures of Baron Münchausen_, (selections), Rudolph Erich - Raspe, 589 - - _Advice to a Friend on Marriage_, Eustache Deschampes, 315 - - _Advice to an Innkeeper_, José Morell, 412 - - _Advice to Ponticus_, Johannes Audœmus, 194 - - ÆSOP’S _Fables_, 44 - _Lion, the Bear, the Monkey and the Fox, The_, 44 - _Partial Judge, The_, 45 - - ÆSOP, G. WASHINGTON. _See_ Lanigan, George Thomas - - _Æstivation_, Oliver Wendell Holmes, 666 - - _After a Wedding_ (from _Mrs. Partington_), Benjamin Penhallow - Shillaber, 664 - - _After Herrick: Song_, Oliver Herford, 747 - - _After Swimming the Hellespont_, Lord Byron, 462 - - _Against Abolishing Christianity_, Jonathan Swift, 415 - - AGATHIAS, - _Grammar and Medicine_, 76 - - _Alarmed Skipper, The_, James Thomas Fields, 668 - - ALCAZAR, BALTAZAR DEL, _Sleep_, 359 - - ALDRICH, THOMAS BAILEY, 683 - - ALEXIS, - Epigrams, 69 - - ALY BEN AHMED BEN MANSOUR, - _To the Vizier Cassim Obid Allah, on the Death of One of His - Sons_, 191 - - American humor, 643–760 - - AMICIS, EDMONDO DE, - _Tooth for Tooth_, 623 - - AMMIANUS, - _Epitaph, An_, 77 - - _Analects of Confucius, The_ (extracts), 156 - - ANAXANDRIADES, - Epigrams, 68 - - ANSTEY, F. _See_ Guthrie, T. A. - - Anthologies, 311 - - ANTIPHANES, 66 - Epigrams, 67 - - APOLLODORUS, - Epigrams, 85 - - _Apology for Cider_, Olivier Basselin, 317 - - _Apology for Herodotus_ (Noodle Stories from), Henry Stephens - (Henri Estienn), 215 - - APULEIUS, - _Metamorphose, or The Golden Ass_ (extracts), 112 - - Arabian humor, 33, 126–138, 208 - - _Arabian Nights’ Entertainment, The_, 33, 126 - _Bakbarah’s Visit to the Harem_, 132 - _Husband and the Parrot, The_, 131 - _Ignorant Man Who Set Up for a Schoolmaster, The_, 129 - _Simpleton and the Sharper, The_, 127 - _Thief Turned Merchant and the Other Thief, The_, 128 - - Arabian Riddle, 35 - - Arabian tale, the universal, 208 - - ARBUTHNOT, JOHN, - _Dissertation on Dumplings, A_, (from _Bull and Mouth_), 427 - - ARISTOPHANES, - _Birds, The_ (plot), 64 - _Frogs, The_ (extracts), 55 - - ARISTOPHON, Epigram, 69 - - ARISTOTLE, - definition of the Ridiculous, 3, 70 - Disappointment Theory, 4 ff. - - AROUET. _See_ Voltaire - - _Artist and Public_, Friedrich Rückert, 609 - - “As with my hat upon my head,” Samuel Johnson, 431 - - _As You Like It_ (extract), Shakespeare, 288 - - _Ass and the Flute, The_, Thomas Yriarte, 626 - - _Ass’s Testament, The_, Rutebœuf, 312 - - _At the Sign of the Cock_, Sir Owen Seaman, 541 - - AUDŒMUS, JOHANNES, - _Advice to Ponticus_, 194 - _To a Friend in Distress_, 194 - - AUTHORS UNKNOWN, - _Convenient Partnership_, 78 - _Creation of Woman_, The (_from The Churning of the Ocean of - Time_), 122 - _Good Wife and the Bad Husband, The_, 37 - _Lerneans, The_, 79 - _Long and Short_, 78 - _On Late Acquired Wealth_, 190 - _On the Inconstancy of Woman’s Love_, 191 - _Perplexity_, 79 - _Voice from the Grave, A_, 190 - _Wife’s Ruse, A_: A Rabbinical Tale, 32 - - AYTOUN, WILLIAM EDMONSTOUNE, 493 - _Husband’s Petition, The_, 494 - _Lay of the Lovelorn, The_, 495 - - - _Baby’s Début, The_, James Smith, 466 - - BACON, FRANCIS, - Epigrams, 291 - - _Baharistan, The_ (extracts), Jami, 196 - - _Bakbarah’s Visit to the Harem_ (from _The Arabian Nights’ - Entertainment_), 132 - - BAKIN, KIOKUTEI, - _On Clothes and Comforts_ (from _The Land of Dreams_), 161 - - Balaam and his Ass, story of, 30 - - _Ballad_, after Rosetti, Charles Stuart Calverly, 506 - - _Ballad_ (from _Hans Breitmann Ballads_), Charles Godfrey Leland, - 680 - - Ballad literature, 365 - - _Ballad of the Primitive Jest_, Andrew Lang, 526 - - _Ballad of the Women of Paris_, François Villon, 320 - - _Ballad of Women’s Doubleness_, Chaucer, 258 - - _Ballade of an Anti-Puritan, A_, Gilbert K. Chesterton, 558 - - _Ballade of Dead Ladies, The_, François Villon, 318 - - _Ballade of Literary Fame_, Andrew Lang, 527 - - _Ballade of Old Time Ladies, A_, François Villon, 319 - - _Ballade of Suicide, A_, Gilbert K. Chesterton, 557 - - BALZAC, HONORÉ DE, - _Innocence_ (from _Contés Drolatiques_), 568 - _Slight Misunderstanding, A_ (from _Contés Drolatiques_), 567 - - BANGS, JOHN KENDRICK, - Mona Lisa, 731 - - Bards or rhapsodists, 26 - - BAR HEBRÆUS, GREGORY, - _The Book of Laughable Stories_ (extracts), 204 - - BARHAM, RICHARD HARRIS, - _Ingoldsby Legends_, 455 - _Raising the Devil_, 456 - _“True and Original” Version, A_, 455 - - BARRIE, JAMES MATTHEW, - _Humourist on his Calling, A_ (from _A Window in Thrums_), 535 - - BARROW, DR. ISAAC, - on facetiousness, 9 - - BASSELIN, OLIVIER, - _Apology for Cider_, 317 - _To My Nose_, 316 - - _Battle of the Frogs and Mice, The_, - Homer, 51 - Version by “Singing Mouse,” 53 - Version by Samuel Wesley, 54 - - _Battle of the Kegs, The_, Francis Hopkinson, 647 - - BAYLY, THOMAS HAYNES, - _Why Don’t the Men Propose?_ 472 - - _Beating of Thersites, The_ (from _The Iliad_), Homer, 49 - - _Beer_, Julian, 76 - - BELLOC, HILAIRE, - _Bison, The_, 556 - _Frog, The_, 557 - _Microbe, The_, 556 - _Python, The_, 555 - - _Beneficence and Gratitude_, Ivan Turgenieff, 638 - - BERANGER, PIERRE JEAN DE, 563 - _Dead Alive, The_, 565 - _Education of Young Ladies, The_, 564 - - BERCHEURE, PIERRE, 243 - - BERGERAC, CYRANO DE, - _Soul of the Cabbage, The_, 390 - - BERGSON, on playfulness of animals and man, 18 - - BERNI, FRANCESCO, - _Living in Bed_ (from _Roland Enamored_), 352 - - _Between the Lines_, Martial, 107 - - BEZA, THEODORUS, Epigram, 193 - - BHARTRIHARI, cynical paragraphs, 195, 196 - - BIDPAI. _See_ Pilpay - - _Biglow Papers_ (extract), James Russell Lowell, 674 - - BILLINGS, JOSH. _See_ Shaw, Henry Wheeler - - _Bison, The_, Hilaire Belloc, 556 - - _Bizarrures_ of Sieur Gaulard, 211 - - _Board or Lodging_, Lucilius, 78 - - BOCCACCIO, GIOVANNI, - _Decameron_, 164, 343 - _Of Three Girls and Their Talk_ (a sonnet), 343 - _Stolen Pig, The_ (from _The Decameron_), 345 - - _Bohemian Life Sketches_ (extracts), Henri Murger, 579 - - BOILEAU-DESPREAUX, NICOLAS, - _On Cotin_, 405 - _To Perrault_, 405 - - BONIFACIUS, BALTHASAR, - _Dangerous Love_, 194 - - _Book of Laughable Stories, The_ (extracts), 204 - - _Boston Lullaby, A_, James Jeffrey Roche, 708 - - BRANDT, 337 - - BROWNE, CHARLES FARRAR (Artemus Ward), 684 - _On Forts_, 685 - - BROWNING, ROBERT, - _Pope and the Net, The_, 502 - - BRUYERE, JEAN DE LA, - _Iphis_, 406 - _Thoughts_, 406 - - BRYANT, WILLIAM CULLEN, - _To a Mosquito_, 655 - - BUCHANANUS, GEORGIUS, - _On Leonora_, 193 - _To Zoilus_, 193 - - Buddha’s _Jatakas_, 34, 214 - - Buffoons, 26, 87 - - _Burdensome Wife, A_ (from _Hie! Fie!_), Abraham á Sancta Clara, - 413 - - BURDETTE, ROBERT JONES, - “_Soldier, Rest!_” 701 - _What Will We Do?_ 700 - - BURGESS, FRANK GELETT, - _Invisible Bridge, The_, 748 - _Psycholophon_, 749 - _Purple Cow, The_, 748 - _Villanelle of Things Amusing_, 748 - - Burlesque, 25, 47 - - BURNAND, FRANCIS C., - _True To Poll_, 532 - - BURNS, ROBERT, - _Address to the Toothache_, 444 - _Holy Willie’s Prayer_, 440 - - BUSCH, WILHELM, 613 - - BUTLER, SAMUEL, - _Description of Holland_, 377 - _Poets_, 377 - _Puffing_, 377 - _Religion of Hudibras, The_ (from _Hudibras_), 374 - _Saintship versus Conscience_, (from _Hudibras_), 375 - - BUTLER, WILLIAM ALLEN, 681 - - BYRON, LORD, - _After Swimming the Hellespont_, 462 - _Don Juan_ (extracts), 460 - - - _C. Mery Talys_ (_Hundred Merry Tales_) (extracts), 263, 265, 270 - _ff_ - - CALVERLY, CHARLES STUART, 537 - _Ballad_, after Rossetti, 506 - _Cock and the Bull, The_, 507 - _Lovers and a Reflection_, 511 - _Ode to Tobacco_, 513 - - CAMDEN, - _Britannia_ (extracts), 383 - _Witticisms_, 274 _ff_ - - _Candide_ (extract), Voltaire, 560 - - CANNING, GEORGE, 438 - _Friend of Humanity and the Knife-Grinder, The_, 439 - - CAREW, THOMAS, 368 - - Caricature, 25, 27, 47, 226 - - CARLETON, WILL, - _Eliphalet Chapin’s Wedding_, 723 - - CARROLL, LEWIS (Dodgson, Charles Lutwidge), 514 - _Jabberwocky_ (from _Through the Looking-Glass_), 515 - _Some Hallucinations_, 518 - _Ways and Means_ (from _Through the Looking-Glass_), 516 - - CARRYL, CHARLES E., - _Walloping Window-Blind, The_, 699 - - CARRYL, GUY WETMORE, - _How a Girl Was Too Reckless of Grammar_, 738 - - CARY, PHOEBE, - _I Remember_, 676 - _Jacob_, 677 - _Reuben_, 678 - “_There’s a Bower of Bean-Vines_,” 677 - - _Casey at the Bat_, Ernest Lawrence Thayer, 729 - - CASTIGLIONE, BALDASSARE, - _Il Cortegiano_ (extracts), 183 - - CATULLUS, - _Fixed Smile, A_, 98 - _On His Own Love_, 191 - _Roman Cockney, The_, 97 - - CELLINI, BENVENUTO, - _Compulsory Marriage at Sword’s Point, A_ (from his Biography), - 356 - _Criticism of a Statue of Hercules_ (from his Biography), 358 - - _Certain Young Lady_, A, Washington Irving, 654 - - _Certaine Conceyts and Jeasts_ (extracts), 268 - - CERVANTES, MIGUEL DE, 277 - _He Secures Sancho Panza as his Squire_ (from _Don Quixote_), 360 - _Of the Valorous Don Quixote’s Adventure of the Windmills_ (from - _Don Quixote_), 363 - - CHAMMISSO, ADELBERT VON, - _The Pigtail_, 605 - - CHARIVARI, 229, 230 - - CHAUCER, 253 - _Ballad of Women’s Doubleness_, 258 - _Cock and the Fox, The_ (from _The Nun’s Priest’s Tale_), 254 - _To My Empty Purse_, 257 - - CHEKOW, ANTON, - Proverbs, 639 - - CHEMNITZER, IVAN, - _Lion’s Council of State, The_, 632 - _Philosopher, The_ (from _The Fables_), 631 - - CHESTERFIELD, LORD, 428 - _Letters to His Son_ (extracts), 429 - - CHESTERTON, GILBERT K., - _Ballade of an Anti-Puritan, A_, 558 - _Ballade of Suicide, A_, 557 - - _Child’s Verses_ (extracts), Robert Louis Stevenson, 534 - - _Chimmie Fadden_ (extract), Edward Waterman Townsend, 716 - - _Chimpanzee, The_, Oliver Herford, 745 - - Chinese humor, 156–161, 164, 214 - - Chinese Proverbs of Confucius, 160 - - Chinese story, 214 - - CHOTZNER, PROFESSOR, on Hebrew satire, 30 - - _Churning of the Ocean of Time_ (extract), Unknown, 122 - - CHWANG TZE, - _Pleasure of Fishes, The_ (from _Autumn Floods_), 157 - - CLAUDIUS, MATTHIAS, - _The Hen and the Egg_, 592 - - CLEMENS, SAMUEL LANGHORNE (Mark Twain), 8 - _Jumping Frog of Calaveras County, The_ (extract), 681 - - _Clever Grethel_ (from _Grimm’s Fairy Tales_), 607 - - _Cock and the Bull, The_, Charles Stuart Calverly, 507 - - _Cock and the Fox, The_ (from _The Nun’s Priest’s Tale_), Chaucer, - 254 - - _Cock and the Fox, The_, Jean de la Fontaine, 403 - - _Cocktail, The_ (from _The Sultan of Sulu_), George Ade, 722 - - _Code of Love, The_, 240 - - COGIA, NASR EDDIN EFFENDI, 199 - _Pleasantries of, The_ (extracts), 213 - - _Cold Mutton, Pudding, Pancakes_ (from _Mrs. Caudle’s Curtain - Lectures_), Douglas Jerrold, 476 - - COLERIDGE, on humor, 3, 249 - - Collections, 162 _ff._, 263, 311 - - COLMAN, GEORGE, the Younger, 438 - - _Colubriad, The_, William Cowper, 436 - - Comedy, 46, 48 - - Comic, the, 9, 48 - - Comic literature, 87 - - _Compulsory Marriage at Sword’s Point A_, (from Biography), - Benvenuto Cellini, 356 - - CONFUCIUS, - _Analects, The_ (extracts), 156 - Proverbs, 160 - - _Constant Lover, The_, Sir John Suckling, 369 - - _Convenient Partnership_, Unknown, 78 - - CORBET, BISHOP, 301 - _Epigram on Beaumont’s Early Death_, 305 - _Farewell to the Fairies_, 303 - _Like to the Thundering Tone_, 302 - _Nonsense_, 302 - - CORDUS, EURICIUS, - _Doctor’s Appearance, The_, 192 - _To Philomusus_, 192 - - _Cosmetic Disguise_ (from _Satires_), Juvenal, 110 - - COUCH, ARTHUR THOMAS QUILLER-, - _De Tea Fabula_, 546 - - _Council Held by the Rats, The_, Jean de la Fontaine, 402 - - _Country Parson, The_, Elizabeth Graeme Ferguson, 650 - - _Country Squire, The_, Thomas Yriarte, 628 - - _Court Fool and King’s Jester_, 87, 262 - - _Court of Love, The_, 240 - - COWPER, WILLIAM, - _Colubriad, The_, 436 - _Faithful Picture of Ordinary Society, A_, 435 - - COZZENS, FREDERICK SWARTOUT, 664 - - CRANE, STEPHEN, - Extracts, 734 - - _Crane and the Cray-Fish, The_, Pilpay, 167 - - CRATES, - _Cures for Love_, 76 - - CRATINUS Extracts, 65 - - _Creation of Woman, The_ (from _The Churning of the Ocean of - Time_), Unknown, 122 - - _Crede Experto_, Martial, 109 - - _Credo_ (German Student Song), 614 - - _Criticism of a Statue of Hercules_ (from Biography), Benvenuto - Cellini, 358 - - _Crow and the Fox, The_, Jean de la Fontaine, 404 - - _Cures for Love_, Crates, 76 - - CURTIS, GEORGE WILLIAM, 678 - - Cynical paragraphs, Bhartrihari, 195 - - - _Dangerous Love_, Balthasar Bonifacius, 194 - - DANTE, 231 - - _Darkness_, Lucian, 76 - - DAUDET, ALPHONSE, - _William Tell_ (from _Tartarin in the Alps_), 583 - - DAVIES, SIR JOHN, - _Acrostics_, 309 - _Married State, The_, 310 - - DAVISON, FRANCIS, 311 - - _De Tea Fabula_, Arthur Thomas Quiller-Couch, 546 - - _Dead Alive, The_, Pierre Jean de Beranger, 565 - - DEANE, ANTHONY C., - _Here Is the Tale_, 543 - - _Decameron, The_, 164; (extract), 343, 345, Giovanni Boccaccio - - _Decorated Bow, The_ (from _Fables_), Lessing, 588 - - DEFOE, DANIEL, - _Friday’s Conflict with the Bear_ (from _Robinson Crusoe_), 383 - - DEKKER, THOMAS, - _Horace Concocting an Ode_, 300 - _Obedient Husbands_ (from _The Bachelor’s Banquet_), 298 - - DE QUINCEY, THOMAS, - _Murder as One of the Fine Arts_, 458 - - DERBY, GEORGE HORATIO (John Phoenix), - _Tushmaker’s Tooth-Puller_, 678 - - Derision theory of humor, 5, 6, 9, 12 - - DESANGIERS, MARC ANTOINE, - _Eternal Yawner, The_, 562 - - DESCHAMPES, EUSTACHE, - _Advice to a Friend on Marriage_, 315 - - _Description of Holland_, Samuel Butler, 377 - - _Desolation_, Thomas L. Masson, 733 - - _Dialogue between Shallow and Silence_ (from _Henry IV, Part II_), - Shakespeare, 279 - - _Diary of Samuel Pepys_ (extracts), 378 - - _Diatribe Against Water_, Francesca Redi, 410 - - DICKENS, CHARLES, 14 - _Mrs. Gamp’s Apartment_ (from _Martin Chuzzlewit_), 491 - - _Dinkey-Bird, The_, Eugene Field, 710 - - Dionysiac festivals, 46, 55 - - DIPHILUS, Epigrams, 84 - - Disappointment Theory of humor, 4 _ff._ - - _Discomfort Better Than Drowning_ (from _The Rose Garden_ - [_Gulistan_]), Sadi, 142 - - _Dissertation on Dumplings, A_ (from _Bull and Mouth_), John - Arbuthnot, 427 - - _Dissertation on Puns_, Theodore Hook, 453 - - _Diving for an Egg_, Do-Pyazah, 156 - - DOBSON, HENRY AUSTIN, (Austin Dobson), - _On a Fan_, 524 - _Rondeau, The_, 525 - - _Doctor, The_ (extract), Robert Southey, 450 - - _Doctor’s Appearance, The_, Euricius Cordus, 192 - - DODGSON, CHARLES LUTWIDGE. _See_ Carroll, Lewis - - _Don Juan_ (extracts), Lord Byron, 460 - - _Don Quixote_ (extracts), Miguel de Cervantes, 363 - - _Donkey’s Voice, The_ (from _Judas, the Arch-Rogue_), Abraham á - Sancta Clara, 412 - - DONNE, JOHN, - _Will, The_, 296 - _See_ Dunne, Finley Peter - - DOOLEY, MR., 720 - - DO-PYAZAH, Definitions, 154 - _Diving for an Egg_, 156 - - DOSTOEVSKY, FEDOR, 634 - _Karlchen, the Crocodile_ (extract), 635 - - DOWNING, MAJOR JACK. _See_ Smith, Seba - - DRAKE, JOSEPH RODMAN, and HALLECK, FITZ-GREENE, - _Ode to Fortune_, 657 - - _Dream Wife, The_, Kajetan Wengierski, 639 - - DRUMMOND, WILLIAM H., M. D., - _Wreck of the “Julie Plante,” The_, 726 - - _Drunkard’s Fancy, The_, Wilhelm Müller, 606 - - DRYDEN, JOHN, - _Milton Compared with Homer and Virgil_, 382 - _On Shadwell_, 380 - _On the Duke of Buckingham_, 381 - - DUMAS, ALEXANDER, the Elder, - _Touching the Olfactory Organ_, 574 - - DUNNE, FINLEY PETER (Mr. Dooley), - _On Expert Testimony_, 720 - - - EASTMAN, MAX, definition of the Disappointment Theory, 7 - on sense of humor, 13 - - _Education of Young Ladies, The_, Pierre Jean de Béranger, 563 - - _Eggs, The_, Thomas Yriarte, 627 - - Egyptian humor, 27–29 - - _Elegy_, Arthur Guiterman, 743 - - _Elegy on the Death of a Mad Dog, An_, Oliver Goldsmith, 432 - - _Elegy on the Glory of Her Sex, Mrs. Mary Blaize, An_, Oliver - Goldsmith, 433 - - _Eliphalet Chapin’s Wedding_, Will Carleton, 723 - - EMERSON, RALPH WALDO, - _Mountain and the Squirrel, The_, 660 - - _Enforced Greatness_, San Shroe Bu, 219 - - English humor, 253–311, 365–389, 415–559 - - _Envy_, Lucilius, 77 - - _Epigram on Mrs. Tofts_, Alexander Pope, 421 - - Epigrams, - English, 291, 295, 296, 377, 382, 421, 478, 479 - French, 335–337 - German, 588–589 - Greek, 67–70, 76–79, 83–85, 189, 190 - Haytian, 641, 642 - Hindu, 195, 196 - Mediæval, 189–207 - Persian, 142, 196–199 - Roman, 107–110, 333 - Turkish, 199–204 - - _Epitaph, An_, Ammianus, 77 - - _Epitaph, An_, Matthew Prior, 387 - - _Epitaph for an Old University Carrier_, Milton, 373 - - ERASMUS, DESIDERIUS, 178 - _Praise of Folly, The_ (extracts), 337 - - _Eternal Yawner, The_, Marc Antoine Desangier, 562 - - EUBULUS, Epigrams, 69 - - EULENSPIEGEL, TYLL (Owleglas or Howleglas), - _Golden Horsehoes, The_ (from _Eulenspiegel’s Pranks_), 339 - _Paying with the Sound of a Penny_ (from _Eulenspiegel’s - Pranks_), 340 - - _Evening Reception, An_ (from _Bohemian Life Sketches_), Henri - Murger, 579 - - _Every Man in His Humor_ (extract), Ben Jonson, 293 - - _Eve’s Daughter_, Edward Rowland Sill, 698 - - - _Fable of the Caddy Who Hurt His Head While Thinking, The_, George - Ade, 723 - - Fables, - origin of, 27–28 - use of term, 162, 235 - - _Fables of Pilpay or Bidpai_ (selections), 164 - - _Fabliaux_, 164, 235, 236 - - _Faithful Picture of Ordinary Society, A_, William Cowper, 435 - - _Faithless Nelly Gray_, Thomas Hood, 462 - - _False Charms_, Lucilius, 78 - - _Farewell to Chloris_, Paul Scarron, 398 - - _Farewell to the Fairies_, Bishop Corbet, 303 - - FAUVEL, 228 - - FERGUSON, ELIZABETH GRAEME, - _Country Parson, The_, 650 - - FIELD, EUGENE, - _Dinkey-Bird, The_, 710 - _Good James and Naughty Reginald_ (from _The Tribune Primer_), - 713 - _Little Peach, The_, 712 - - FIELDS, JAMES THOMAS, - _Alarmed Skipper, The_, 668 - - FILIPPO, RUSTICO DI, 349 - _Making of Master Messerin, The_, 350 - - _Fine Lady, The_, Simonides, 65 - - FIRDAUSI, - _On Sultan Mahmoud_, 142 - - _Fixed Smile, A_, Catullus, 98 - - FLETCHER, JOHN, - _Laughing Song_, 300 - - FONTAINE, JEAN DE LA, - _Cock and the Fox, The_, 403 - _Council Held by the Rats, The_, 402 - _Crow and the Fox, The_, 404 - - FOSS, SAM WALTER, 717 - _Philosopher, A_, 718 - - FRANCIS, J. G., 760 - - FRANKLIN, BENJAMIN, - “He Paid Too Much for His Whistle” (from Letter to a Friend), 643 - _Paper_, 645 - - French humor, 211–213, 235–243, 312–337, 390–409, 560–585 - - _Friday’s Conflict With the Bear_ (from _Robinson Crusoe_), Daniel - Defoe, 383 - - _Friend of Humanity and the Knife-Grinder, The_, George Canning, - 439 - - _Frog, The_, Hilaire Belloc, 557 - - _Frogs, The_ (extracts), Aristophanes, 55 - - _Furniture of a Woman’s Mind, The_, Jonathan Swift, 416 - - - _Gammer Gurton’s Needle_ (extract), John Still, 308 - - _Garden Hose, The_, Edgar Wilson Nye, 714 - - _Gargantua and Pantagruel_, 323 - (extracts), François Rabelais, 329 - - Gargoyles, 48 - - GAULARD, SIEUR, - _Bizarrures_, 211 - _Contes Facetieux, Les_ (extract), 74 - - GAUTIER, THÉOPHILE, - _Lap Dog, The_ (_Fanfreluche_), 577 - - GELLERT, CHRISTIAN F., - _Patient Cured, The_, 586 - - _Gentle Alice Brown_, William Schwenck Gilbert, 529 - - _Gentleman Cit, The_ (extract), Molière, 396 - - GERARD, MARC-ANTOINE, - _Address to Bacchus, An_, 392 - - German humor, 337–344, 412–415, 586–615 - - German Student Songs, - _Credo_, 614 - _Pope and Sultan_, 613 - - _Gesta Romanorum_, - authorship and sources, 163, 243 - _Of Sloth_, 243 - _Of the Deceits of the Devil_, 246 - _Of the Good, Who Alone Will Enter the Kingdom of Heaven_, 244 - _Of the Incarnation of Our Lord_, 245 - _Of Vigilance in Our Calling_, 247 - - GHISLANZONI, ANTONIO, - _On Musical Instruments_, 619 - - GILBERT, WILLIAM SCHWENK, - _Gentle Alice Brown_, 529 - “Lady from the provinces, The,” 210 - _Mighty Must, The_, 528 - _To the Terrestrial Globe_, 529 - - _Giles and Joan_, Ben Jonson, 296 - - Gleemen, 232 - - GOETHE, JOHANN WOLFGANG, - _Reynard the Fox_ (extract), 596 - - _Gold_, Oliver Herford, 747 - - _Golden Ass, The_ (extracts), Apuleius, 112 - - _Golden Horseshoes, The_ (from _Eulenspiegel’s Pranks_), Tyll - Eulenspiegel, 339 - - GOLDONI, CARLO, 616 - - GOLDSMITH, OLIVER, 431 - _Elegy on the Death of a Mad Dog, An_, 432 - _Elegy on the Glory of Her Sex, Mrs. Mary Blaize, An_, 433 - _Parson Gray_, 434 - - _Good Flea and the Wicked King, The_ (from _Tales of a - Grandfather_), Victor Marie Hugo, 580 - - _Good James and Naughty Reginald_ (from _The Tribune Primer_), - Eugene Field, 713 - - _Good Wife and the Bad Husband, The_, 37 - - _Goose, The_, Alfred Tennyson, 500 - - Gothamites, 208, 214, 216, 341 - - GOZZI, CARLO, 616 - - _Grammar and Medicine_, Agathias, 76 - - _Great Contention, The_, Nicarchus, 190 - - _Greedy and Ambitious Cat, The_, Pilpay, 164 - - _Greek Anthology_, 75 - Epigrams, 76 _ff._ - - Greek Comedy, 46, 48, 55, 66 - - Greek humor, 43–85, 178–181, 189–190 - - GREENE, ALBERT GORTON, - _Old Grimes_, 658 - - GRIBOYEDOFF, ALEXANDER, 631 - - GRIMM, JAKOB and WILHELM, - _Clever Grethel_ (from _Fairy Tales_), 607 - - GUITERMAN, ARTHUR, - _Elegy_, 743 - _Mavrone_, 742 - - GUTHRIE, T. A. (F. Anstey), - _Select Passages from a Coming Poet_, 554 - - - HALE, EDWARD EVERETT, 678 - - HALLECK, FITZ-GREENE, and DRAKE, JOSEPH RODMAN, - _Ode to Fortune_, 657 - - HALPINE, CHARLES GRAHAM, 681 - - _Hamlet_ (extract), Shakespeare, 286 - - _Hans Breitmann Ballads_ (selection), Charles Godfrey Leland, 680 - - HARINGTON, SIR JOHN, - _Of a Certain Man_, 293 - _Of a Precise Tailor_, 292 - - HARRIS, JOEL CHANDLER, - _Sad End of Brer Wolf_, _The_ (from _Uncle Remus, His Songs and - His Sayings_), 708 - - HARTE, FRANCIS BRET, - _Society upon the Stanislaus, The_, 686 - _To the Pliocene Skull_, 688 - - _Hatefulness of Old Husbands_ (from _The Rose Garden_ - [_Gulistan_]), Sadi, 144 - - HAY, JOHN, - _Little Breeches_ (from _Pike County Ballads_), 690 - - Haytian Epigrams, 641 - - HAZLITT, WILLIAM, 18, 277 - on the laughable, 7 - on distinction between wit and humor, 15, 16, 17 - on Falstaff, 278 - - “He Paid Too Much for His Whistle” (from Letter to a Friend), - Benjamin Franklin, 643 - - _He Secures Sancho Panza as His Squire_ (from _Don Quixote_), - Miguel de Cervantes, 360 - - Hebrew humor, 30–33, 124–126 - - _Height of the Ridiculous, The_, Oliver Wendell Holmes, 665 - - HEINE, HEINRICH, 610 - Extracts, 612 - _Town of Göttingen, The_, 611 - - _Hen, A_ (extract), Henry Wheeler Shaw, 673 - - _Hen, The_, Oliver Herford, 745 - - _Hen and the Egg, The_, Matthias Claudius, 592 - - HENLEY, WILLIAM ERNEST, - _Villanelle_, 533 - - _Henry IV, Part I_ (extract), Shakespeare, 281 - - _Henry IV, Part II_ (extract), Shakespeare, 279 - - _Heptameron, The_, 164, 321 - - HERBERT, GEORGE, 365 - - _Here Is the Tale_, Anthony C. Deane, 543 - - HERFORD, OLIVER, - _Chimpanzee, The_, 745 - _Gold_, 747 - _Hen, The_, 745 - _Mark Twain: A Pipe Dream_, 746 - _Phyllis Lee_, 744 - _Prodigal Egg, The_, 747 - _Some Geese_, 744 - _Song--After Herrick_, 747 - - HERRICK, ROBERT, - _Kiss, The--A Dialogue_, 367 - _Ternary of Littles, upon a Pipkin of Jelly Sent to a Lady, A_, - 368 - - HIEROCLES, - Jests, 72, 175 - - _Higher Pantheism in a Nutshell, The_, Charles Algernon Swinburne, - 522 - - Hindu humor, 36–39, 121–124, 164–175, 195–196, 214–215, 219–225 - - HOBBES, THOMAS, 365 - _Laughter_ (from _Treatise on Human Nature_), 11, 12, 366 - - HOFFMAN, HEINRICH, 613 - - HOLLEY, MARIETTA, - _My Opinions and Betsy Bobbet’s_ (extract), 702 - - HOLMES, OLIVER WENDELL, 18 - _Æstivation_, 666 - _Height of the Ridiculous, The_, 665 - - _Holy Willie’s Prayer_, Robert Burns, 440 - - HOMER, - identity, 43, 48 - _Battle of the Frogs and Mice, The_, 51, 53 - _Beating of Thersites, The_ (from _The Iliad_), 49 - - Homer’s Riddle, 35 - - HOOD, THOMAS, - _Faithless Nelly Gray_, 462 - _No!_, 465 - - HOOK, THEODORE, - _Dissertation on Puns_, 453 - - HOPKINSON, FRANCIS, - _Battle of the Kegs, The_, 647 - - HORACE, - _Obtrusive Company on the Sacred Way_ (from _Satires_), 98 - - _Horace Concocting an Ode_, Thomas Dekker, 300 - - _Horse Tied to a Steeple, A_ (from _Adventures of Baron - Münchausen_), Rudolph Erich Raspe, 589 - - _How a Girl Was Too Reckless of Grammar_, Guy Wetmore Carryl, 738 - - _How Jacke by Sophistry Would Make of Two Eggs Three_ (from _The - Jests of Scogin_), 265 - - _How Madde Coomes, When His Wife Was Drowned, Sought Her against - the Streame_ (from _Mother Bunches Merriments_), 267 - - _How Maister Hobson Said He Was Not at Home_ (from _The Pleasant - Conceits of Old Hobson_, Richard Johnson), 267 - - _How Scogin Sold Powder to Kill Fleas_ (from _The Jests of - Scogin_), 265 - - _How Skelton Came Late Home to Oxford from Abington_ (from - _Certayne Merye Tales_), John Skelton, 264 - - _How the Welshman Dyd Desyre Skelton to Ayde Him in Hys Sute to the - Kynge for a Patent to Sell Drynke_, John Skelton, 263 - - _Hudibras_ (extracts), Samuel Butler, 375 - - HUGO, VICTOR MARIE, - _The Good Flea and the Wicked King_ (from _Tales of a - Grandfather_), 580 - - _Human Nature, Treatise on_ (extracts), Thomas Hobbes, 11, 12, 366 - - Humor, - use of term, 3 - theories and definitions, 4 _ff._, 23 - Hazlitt on, 7, 15 _ff._ - Max Eastman on, 7, 13 - Dr. Isaac Barrows on, 9–11 - Thomas Hobbes on, 11 - George Meredith on, 12 - sense of humor, 13–15 - Brander Matthews on, 13 - distinction between wit and, 15–17 - playfulness of animals, 18 _ff._ - chronological periods, 20, 43 - origin of, 23, 45, 46 - educational use, 249 - influx into literature, 277 - - _Humorist on His Calling, A_ (from _A Window in Thrums_), James - Matthew Barrie, 535 - - _Hunting with a King_ (from _Sakuntala_), Kalidasa, 121 - - _Husband and the Parrot, The_ (from _The Arabian Nights’ - Entertainment_), 131 - - _Husband’s Petition, The_, William Edmonstoune Aytoun, 494 - - _Hymn of the Frogs, The_ (from the Rig Vedas), 34 - - - “I am a saint of good repute,” Monk of Montaudon, 238 - - _Idiot’s Delight, The_, Carolyn Wells, 749 - - _Idler, The_ (extract), Samuel Johnson, 430 - - _If I Should Die To-Night_, Ben King, 728 - - _Ignorant Man Who Set Up for a Schoolmaster, The_ (from _The - Arabian Nights’ Entertainment_), 129 - - _Il Cortegiano_ (extracts), Castiglione, 183 - - _Iliad_ (extract), Homer, 49 - - _Iliad in a Nutshell, The_, 51 - - _Ingenious Cook, An_ (from _Trimalchio’s Banquet_), Petronius, 102 - - _Ingoldsby Legends_, Richard Harris Barham, 455 - - _Inheritance of a Library, The_ (from _Novellino_), Massuchio di - Salerno, 350 - - _I Remember_, Phœbe Cary, 676 - - _Innocence_ (from _Contes Drolatiques_), Honoré de Balzac, 568 - - Irish Bulls, prototypes of, 211 - - _Invalid and His Deaf Visitor, The_ (from _Stories in Rime_ - [_Masnavi_]), Jalal uddin Rumi, 152 - - _Invisible Bridge, The_, Frank Gelett Burgess, 748 - - _Iphis_, Jean de la Bruyère, 406 - - _Irishman, The_, William Maginn, 471 - - IRVING, WASHINGTON, - _Certain Young Lady, A_, 654 - - Italian humor, 182–184, 218, 344–359, 409–411, 616–625 - - - _Jabberwocky_ (from _Through the Looking-Glass_), Lewis Carroll, - 515 - - _Jack and Jill_ (a symposium), Charles Battell Loomis, 735 - - _Jacob_, Phœbe Cary, 677 - - JALAL UDDIN RUMI, - _Invalid and His Deaf Visitor, The_ (from _Stories in Rime_ - [_Masnavi_]), 152 - _Old Age--Dialogue_, 153 - _Sick Schoolmaster, The_ (from _Stories in Rime_), 149 - - JAMI, - _The Baharistan_ (extracts), 196 - - Japanese humor, 161 - - _Játakas_, or Buddhist stories, 34, 214 - - JERROLD, DOUGLAS, 475 - _Cold Mutton, Pudding, Pancakes_ (from _Mrs. Caudle’s Curtain - Lectures_), 476 - Witticisms, 478 - - Jestbooks (extracts), - English, 262 _ff._, 274 _ff._ - French, 335–337 - - _Jester Condemned to Death, The_, Horace Smith, 469 - - Jests - Greek, 178–181 - Mediæval German, 188–189 - Old jokes, 72–75 - Roman, 181–182 - - _Jests of Hierocles_, 72, 175, 176–178 - - _Jests of Scogin, The_, 263, (extracts), 265 - - _Jobsiad, The_ (extract), Carl Arnold Kortum, 599 - - JOHANNES SECUNDUS, - _On Charinus, the Husband of an Ugly Wife_, 193 - - JOHNSON, RICHARD, - _The Pleasant Conceits of Old Hobson_ (extract), 267 - - JOHNSON, SAMUEL, - “As with my hat upon my head,” 431 - _On Lying News-Writers_ (from _The Idler_), 430 - - Jokes, - popular idea of, 4 - what makes, 5 - practical, 6 - and bards, 26 - - _Jolly Good Ale and Old_ (from _Gammer Gurton’s Needle_), John - Still, 308 - - _Jongleurs_ of Middle Ages, 233 - - JONSON, BEN, - Epigrams, 295 - _Every Man in His Humor_ (extract), 293 - _Giles and Joan_, 296 - _To the Ghost of Martial_, 295 - _Vintner, A_, 295 - _Volpone_ (extract), 294 - - Jotham, story of, 31 - - _Judas, the Arch-Rogue_ (extract), Abraham á Sancta Clara, 412 - - Jugglers, 233 - - JULIAN, - _Beer_, 76 - - _Jumping Frog of Calaveras County, The_ (extract), Samuel Langhorne - Clemens, 681 - - JUVENAL, - _Cosmetic Disguise_ (from _Satires_), 110 - _On Domineering Wives_ (from _Satires_), 111 - - - KALIDASA, - _Hunting with a King_ (from _Sakuntala_), 121 - - KANT, - definition of laughter, 13 - - _Karlchen, the Crocodile_ (extract), Fedor Dostoevsky, 635 - - _Kathá Manjari_ (extract), 75 - - _Kathá Sarit Ságara_, Somadeva, 214 - - KERR, ORPHEUS C. _See_ Newell, Robert Henry - - KHOJA NASRU’D DÍN. _See_ Cogia Nasr Eddin Effendi - - _Kind-Hearted She-Elephant, The_, George Thomas Lanigan, 706 - - KING, BEN, - _If I Should Die To-Night_, 728 - _Pessimist, The_, 727 - - KINGSLEY, CHARLES, - _Professor’s Malady, The_ (from _Water Babies_), 498 - - _Kiss, The_, Thomas L. Masson, 732 - - _Kiss, The--A Dialogue_, Robert Herrick, 367 - - KOCK, CHARLES PAUL DE, - _Theophile’s Mother-in-Law_ (from _A Much Worried Gentleman_), - 572 - - KORTUM, CARL ARNOLD, - _The Jobsiad_ (extract), 599 - - Krishna, - caricatures of, 36 - - KRYLOFF (V), IVAN, 631 - _Musicians, The_, 634 - _Swan, the Pike and the Crab, The_, 633 - - - _Lady from the Provinces, The_, W. S. Gilbert, 210 - - “La Gallisse, now I wish to touch,” Gilles Ménage, 407 - - _L’Allegro_, Milton, 371 - - LAMB, CHARLES (extracts), 449 - - LANDON, MELVILLE D., 698 - - LANG, ANDREW, - _Ballad of the Primitive Jest_, 526 - _Ballade of Literary Fame_, 527 - - LANIGAN, GEORGE THOMAS (G. Washington Æsop), 705 - _Kind-Hearted She-Elephant, The_, 706 - _Ostrich and the Hen, The_, 706 - _Threnody, A_, 704 - - _Lanty Leary_, Samuel Lover, 482 - - _Lap Dog, The_, Théophile Gautier, 577 - - LA ROCHEFOUCAULD, FRANÇOIS DE, - _Maxims_, 399 - - Laughable, the, ideas on, 4, 7 - - _Laughing Song_, John Fletcher, 300 - - Laughter, - what makes us laugh, 5 - Hobbes’s definition, 11, 12, 366 - Kant’s definition, 13 - - _Lay of the Lovelorn, The_, William Edmonstoune Aytoun, 495 - - LEAR, EDWARD, - Limericks, 519 - _Two Old Bachelors, The_, 520 - - _Learned Women, The_ (extract), Molière, 394 - - LELAND, CHARLES GODFREY, - _Ballad_ (from _Hans Breitmann Ballads_), 680 - - LEOPARDI, GIACOMO, - _Academy of Syllographs, The_, 616 - - _Lerneans, The_, Unknown, 79 - - LE SAGE, ALAN RENÉ, 406 - - LESSING, GOTTHOLD EPHRAIM, - _Decorated Bow, The_ (from _Fables_), 588 - Epigrams, 588 - _Fables_ (extracts), 588 - _Raven, The_ (from _Fables_), 588 - - _Let the Toast Pass_ (from _The School for Scandal_), Richard - Brinsley Sheridan, 437 - - _Letters to His Son_ (extracts), Lord Chesterfield, 429 - - LEVER, CHARLES, 481 - _Widow Malone_, 483 - - _Lie, The_, Sir Walter Raleigh, 305 - - _Like to the Thundering Tone_, Bishop Corbet, 302 - - Limericks, Edward Lear, 519 - - _Lines by a Person of Quality_, Alexander Pope, 419 - - _Lines on Milton_, Cowper, 382 - - _Lion, the Bear, the Monkey and the Fox, The_ (from _Æsop’s - Fables_), 44 - - _Lions Council of State, The_, Ivan Chemnitzer, 632 - - _Little Billee_, William Makepeace Thackeray, 487 - - _Little Breeches_ (from _Pike County Ballads_), John Hay, 690 - - _Little Peach, The_, Eugene Field, 712 - - _Living in Bed_ (from _Roland Enamored_), Francesco Berni, 352 - - LOCKE, DAVID ROSS (Petroleum V. Nasby), 684 - - LOCKER-LAMPSON, FREDERICK, 484, 503 - _My Mistress’s Boots_, 503 - _On a Sense of Humor_, 505 - _Some Ladies_, 505 - _Terrible Infant, A_, 505 - - _Long and Short_, Unknown, 78 - - LONGFELLOW, HENRY WADSWORTH, 666 - _Mr. Finney’s Turnip_, 667 - _There Was a Little Girl_, 667 - - LOOMIS, CHARLES BATTELL, - _Jack and Jill_ (a symposium), 735 - - _Lord Erskine’s Simile_, Richard Brinsley Sheridan, 438 - - _Lost Hatchet, The_ (from _Gargantua and Pantagruel_), François - Rabelais, 329 - - _Love in a Cottage_, Nathaniel Parker Willis, 661 - - _Love Lesson, A_, Clement Marot, 321 - - LOVELACE, RICHARD, 368 - _Song_, 369 - - LOVER, SAMUEL, - _Lanty Leary_, 482 - _Rory O’More_, 481 - - _Lovers and a Reflection_, Charles Stuart Calverly, 511 - - _Love’s Labour’s Lost_ (extract), Shakespeare, 15 - - LOWELL, JAMES RUSSELL, - _What Mr. Robinson Thinks_ (from _Biglow Papers_), 674 - - LUCIAN, - _Darkness_, 76 - _Odysseus’s Trick on Polyphemus_ (from _Dialogues of the Sea - Gods_), 80 - _Question of Precedence, A_ (from _Dialogues of the Gods_), 79 - - LUCILIUS, - _Board or Lodging_, 78 - _Envy_, 77 - _False Charms_, 78 - _Professor with a Small Class, A_, 77 - _Schoolmaster with a Gay Wife, A_, 78 - - LUCILLIUS, - _A Miser’s Dream_, 190 - - _Lying_, Thomas Moore, 479 - - - _Madame d’Albret’s Laugh_, Clement Marot, 321 - - MAGINN, WILLIAM, - _Irishman, The_, 471 - - _Maid, the Monkey, and the Mendicant, The_, Unknown, 170 - - _Making of Master Messerin, The_, Rustico di Filippo, 350 - - _Man and Superman_, Martial, 109 - - _Mark Twain: A Pipe Dream_, Oliver Herford, 746 - - MAROT, CLEMENT, - _Love Lesson, A_, 321 - _Madame d’Albret’s Laugh_, 321 - - _Married Life_, Stephanus Paschasius, 194 - - _Married State, The_, Sir John Davies, 310 - - MARRYAT, FREDERICK (Captain Marryat), - _Nautical Terms_ (from _Peter Simple_), 474 - - MARSTON, JOHN, - _Scholar and His Dog, The_, 310 - - MARTIAL, Father of Epigrams, 106, 333 - _Between the Lines_, 107 - _Crede Experto_, 109 - _Man and Superman_, 109 - _Mere Suggestion, A_, 108 - _Millions in It_, 109 - _Mute Miltons_, 108 - _Numbers Sweet_, 109 - _Play’s the Thing_, 107 - _Rounded with a Sleep_, 108 - _To Aulus_, 107 - _To Catullus_, 107 - _To Linus_, 109 - _To Mamercus_, 110 - _To Postumus_, 107 - _To Sabidins_, 107 - _Total Abstainer, A_, 108 - _Vendetta_, 108 - _What Might Have Been_, 108 - - MARTIN, THEODORE, 493 - - MARVEL, IK. _See_ Mitchell, Donald G. - - Masks, 87 - - MASSON, THOMAS L., - _Desolation_, 733 - _Kiss, The_, 732 - - MATTHEWS BRANDER, on sense of humor, 13 - - _Mavrone_, Arthur Guiterman, 742 - - Maxims of François de La Rochefoucauld, 399 - - _Meeting, The_, “Singing Mouse,” 53 - - MELCHIOR DE SANTA CRUZ, - Spanish Apothegms, 184–189 - - MÉNAGE, GILLES, - “La Galisse, now I wish to touch,” 407 - - MENANDER, fragments, 82 - - MENDOZA, HURTADO DE, 359 - - _Merchant and His Friend, The_, Pilpay, 169 - - _Merchant of Venice, The_ (extract), Shakespeare, 286 - - _Merchaunte of London That Dyd Put Nobles in His Mouthe in Hys - Dethe Bedde_ (from _C. Mery Talys_), 270 - - _Mere Suggestion, A_, Martial, 108 - - MEREDITH, GEORGE, on modification of Derision Theory, 12 - - _Merie Tayles of Skelton_ (extracts), 263 - - _Mery Tales of the Mad Men of Gotham_ (extracts), 266 - - _Metamorphoses, or The Golden Ass_ (extracts), Apuleius, 112 - - _Microbe, The_, Hilaire Belloc, 556 - - _Mighty Must, The_, William Schwenck Gilbert, 528 - - _Military Swagger_ (from _The Braggart Captain_), Plautus, 88 - - _Milkmaid and the Banker, The_, Horace Smith, 468 - - _Millennium, The_, James Kenneth Stephen, 549 - - MILLER, JOAQUIN, 690 - _That Gentle Man from Boston Town_, 692 - - _Millions in It_, Martial, 109 - - MILTON, - _Epitaph for an Old University Carrier_, 373 - _L’Allegro_ (extract), 371 - - _Milton Compared with Homer and Virgil_, William Cowper, 382 - - _Milton Compared with Homer and Virgil_, John Dryden, 382 - - _Milton Compared with Homer and Virgil_, Selvaggi, 382 - - _Mimi Pinson_ (extract), Louis Charles Alfred de Musset, 569 - - Mimicry, 23, 28 - - _Miniver Cheevy_, Edwin Arlington Robinson, 740 - - Minstrels, 233, 234 - - _Miser and the Mouse, The_, Plato, 190 - - _Misers Dream, A_, Lucillius, 190 - - _Mrs. Caudle’s Curtain Lectures_, Douglas Jerrold, 476 - - _Mrs. Gamp’s Apartment_ (from _Martin Chuzzlewit_), Charles - Dickens, 491 - - _Mrs. Partington_ (extract), Benjamin Penhallow Shillaber, 664 - - _Mrs. Partington_ (from Speech), Sydney Smith, 448 - - _Mr. Finney’s Turnip_, Henry Wadsworth Longfellow, 667 - - MITCHELL, DONALD G. (Ik Marvel), 678 - - MOLIÈRE, 277 - _Gentleman Cit, The_ (extract), 396 - _Learned Women, The_ (extract), 394 - - _Mona Lisa_, John Kendrick Bangs, 731 - - _Money_, Jehan du Pontalais, 322 - - MONTAUDON, MONK OF, 238 - “I am a saint of good repute,” 239 - - Montfaucon’s alphabet of men and animals, 227 - - MOORE, CLEMENT C., - _Visit from St. Nicholas, A_, 652 - - MOORE, THOMAS, - _Lying_, 479 - _Nonsense_, 479 - _Of All the Men_, 480 - _On Taking a Wife_, 481 - _Upon Being Obliged to Leave a Pleasant Party_, 481 - _What’s My Thought Like?_ 480 - - _Moral Man, A_, Nikolai Nekrasov, 637 - - MORE, THOMAS, 277 - - MORELL, JOSÉ, 411 - _Advice to an Innkeeper_, 412 - _To a Poet_, 412 - - _Mother Bunches Merriments_ (extract), 267 - - _Mountain and the Squirrel, The_, Ralph Waldo Emerson, 660 - - _Much Ado About Nothing_ (extract), Shakespeare, 283 - - _Much Married Gentleman, A_ (extract), Charles Paul de Kock, 572 - - MÜLLER, WILHELM, - _The Drunkard’s Fancy_, 606 - - MUNKITTRICK, RICHARD KENDALL, - _What’s in a Name?_, 715 - - _Murder as One of the Fine Arts_, Thomas De Quincey, 458 - - MURGER, HENRI, - _An Evening Reception_ (from _Bohemian Life Sketches_), 579 - - _Musicians, The_, Ivan Kryloff, 634 - - MUSSET, LOUIS CHARLES ALFRED DE, - _The Supper Party of the Three Cavaliers_ (from _Mimi Pinson_), - 569 - - _Mute Miltons_, Martial, 108 - - “My boy, if you’d wish to make constant your Venus,” Rambaud - d’Orange, 237 - - _My Familiar_, John Godfrey Saxe, 669 - - _My First Visit to Portland_, Seba Smith, 662 - - _My Mistress’s Boots_, Frederick Locker-Lampson, 503 - - _My Opinions and Betsy Bobbet’s_ (extracts), Marietta Holley, 702 - - _Mystery, The_, Carolyn Wells, 751 - - - NASBY, PETROLEUM V. _See_ Locke, David Ross - - Nathan, story of, 31 - - _Nautical Terms_ (from _Peter Simple_), Frederick Marryat, 474 - - NEARCHUS, - _Singer, A_, 77 - - NEKRASOV, NIKOLAI, - _Moral Man, A_, 637 - - _Nephelidia_, Swinburne, 523 - - NEWELL, PETER, 760 - - NEWELL, ROBERT HENRY (Orpheus C. Kerr) - _Rejected “National Hymns,”_ 695 - - Newspaper humor, 663, 678, 698 - - NICARCHUS, - _Great Contention, The_, 190 - - _No!_, Thomas Hood, 465 - - _Nocturne at Danieli’s, A_, Sir Owen Seaman, 537 - - _Nonsense_, Bishop Corbet, 302 - - _Nonsense_, Thomas Moore, 479 - - Noodle stories, - origin, 72 - selections, 199–225, 341 - principle of humor in, 210 - - _Novellino_, Massuchio di Salerno, 350 - - _Numbers Sweet_, Martial, 109 - - NYE, EDGAR WILSON (Bill Nye), - _Garden Hose, The_, 714 - - - _Obedient Husbands_ (from _The Bachelor’s Banquet_), Thomas Dekker, - 298 - - Obstinate Family, The, tale of, 208 - - _Obtrusive Company on the Sacred Way_ (from _Satires_), Horace, 98 - - _Ode to Fortune_, Fitz-Greene Halleck and Joseph Rodman Drake, 657 - - _Ode to Tobacco_, Charles Stuart Calverly, 513 - - _Odysseus’s Trick on Polyphemus_ (from _Dialogues of the - Sea-Gods_), Lucian, 80 - - _Of a Certain Man_, Sir John Harington, 293 - - _Of a Precise Tailor_, Sir John Harington, 292 - - _Of a Queer Relationship_, Unknown, 174 - - _Of All the Men_, Thomas Moore, 480 - - _Of Hym That Sought His Wyfe Agaynst the Streme_ (from _C. Mery - Talys_), 272 - - _Of Loquacity_ (from _The Characters_), Theophrastus, 71 - - _Of Sloth_ (from _Gesta Romanorum_), 243 - - _Of Slovenliness_ (from _The Characters_), Theophrastus, 70 - - _Of the Courtear That Ete the Hot Custarde_ (from _C. Mery Talys_), - 272 - - _Of the Deceits of the Devil_ (from _Gesta Romanorum_), 246 - - _Of the Diseases This Year_, François Rabelais, 324 - - _Of the Eclipses This Year_, François Rabelais, 323 - - _Of the Foole That Thought Hym Selfe Deed_ (from _C. Mery Talys_), - 273 - - _Of the Fruits of the Earth This Year_, François Rabelais, 325 - - _Of the Good, Who Alone Will Enter the Kingdom of Heaven_ (from - _Gesta Romanorum_), 244 - - _Of the Incarnation of Our Lord_ (from _Gesta Romanorum_), 245 - - _Of the Merchaunte of London That Dyd Put Nobles in His Mouthe in - Hys Dethe Bedde_ (from _C. Mery Talys_), 270 - - _Of the Scoler of Oxforde That Proved by Sovestry II Chickens III_ - (from _C. Mery Talys_), 271 - - _Of the Valorous Don Quixote’s ... Adventure of the Windmills_ - (from _Don Quixote_), Cervantes, 363 - - _Of the Woman that Followed her Fourth Husband’s Bere and Wept_ - (from _Wit and Mirth_), 270 - - _Of Three Girls and Their Talk_: A Sonnet, Giovanni Boccaccio, 344 - - _Of Vigilance in Our Calling_ (from _Gesta Romanorum_), 247 - - _Old Age--Dialogue_, Jalal uddin Rumi, 153 - - _Old Grimes_, Albert Gorton Greene, 658 - - OMAR KHAYYAM, - _Rubaiyat_ (extract), 138 - - _On a Fan_, Henry Austin Dobson, 524 - - _On a Sense of Humor_, Frederick Locker-Lampson, 505 - - _On a Wet Day_, Francho Sacchetti, 355 - - _On Aufidius_, Actius Sannazarius, 192 - - _On Aurispa_, Janus Pannonius, 192 - - _On Celsus_, Paulus Thomas, 194 - - _On Charinus, the Husband of an Ugly Wife_, Johannes Secundus, 193 - - _On Clothes and Comforts_ (from _The Land of Dreams_), Kiokutei - Bakin, 161 - - _On Cotin_, Nicolas Boileau-Despreaux, 405 - - _On Domineering Wives_ (from _Satires_), Juvenal, 111 - - _On Expert Testimony_, Finley Peter Dunne, 720 - - _On “Forts,”_ Charles Farrar Browne, 685 - - _On His Own Deafness_, Jonathan Swift, 418 - - _On His Own Love_, Catullus, 191 - - _On Late-Acquired Wealth_, Unknown, 190 - - _On Leonora_, Georgius Buchananus, 193 - - _On Lying News-Writers_ (from _The Idler_), Samuel Johnson, 430 - - _On Mental Reservations_ (from _Les Provinciales_), Blaise Pascal, - 400 - - _On Musical Instruments_, Antonio Ghislanzoni, 619 - - _On Shadwell_, John Dryden, 380 - - _On Sultan Mahmoud_, Firdausi, 142 - - _On Taking a Wife_, Thomas Moore, 481 - - _On the Duke of Buckingham_, John Dryden, 381 - - _On the Inconstancy of Woman’s Love_, Unknown, 191 - - ORANGE, RAMBAUD D’, - _Song_: “My boy, if you’d wish to make constant your Venus,” 237 - - _Ostrich and the Hen, The_, George Thomas Lanigan, 706 - - - PAIN, BARRY, - _Poets at Tea, The_, 551 - - _Palabras Grandiosas_ (from _Echo Club_), James Bayard Taylor, 683 - - Palæolithic humor, 24, 25 - - PANNONIUS, JANUS, - _On Aurispa_, 192 - - _Paper_, Benjamin Franklin, 645 - - _Parasites and Gnathonites_ (from _Eunuchus_), Terence, 96 - - _Paris_, Paul Scarron, 398 - - Parodies - _Select Passages from a Coming Poet_, T. A. Guthrie, 554 - After T. B. Aldrich - _Palabras Grandiosas_, James Bayard Taylor, 683 - _Rejected “National Hymns,”_ Robert Henry Newell, 697 - After Browning - _Cock and the Bull, The_, Charles Stuart Calverley, 507 - _Nocturne at Danieli’s, A_, Owen Seaman, 537 - _Poets at Tea, The_, Barry Pain, 552 - After Mrs. Browning - _Symposium of Poets, A_, Carolyn Wells, 754 - After Bryant - _Rejected “National Hymns,”_ Robert Henry Newell, 697 - After Burns - _Poets at Tea, The_, Barry Pain, 554 - After Cowper - _Poets at Tea, The_, Barry Pain, 552 - After Dinah Craik - _Symposium of Poets, A_, Carolyn Wells, 750 - After Austin Dobson - _Jack and Jill_, Charles Battell Loomis, 735 - _Symposium of Poets, A_, Carolyn Wells, 755 - After Emerson - _Rejected “National Hymns,”_ Robert Henry Newell, 696 - After Hafiz, Abu Ishak, 154 - After Bret Harte - _De Tea Fabula_, Arthur Thomas Quiller-Couch, 546 - _Symposium of Poets, A_, Carolyn Wells, 758 - After Herrick - _Song_, O. Herford, 747 - _To Julia under Lock and Key_, Owen Seaman, 540 - After Lady Arthur Hill - _Symposium of Poets, A_, Carolyn Wells, 759 - After Hogg - _Symposium of Poets, A_, Carolyn Wells, 756 - After Oliver Wendell Holmes - _Rejected “National Hymns,”_ Robert Henry Newell, 696 - After Hood - _I Remember_, Phœbe Cary, 676 - After Jean Ingelow - _Lovers and a Reflection_, Charles Stuart Calverley, 511 - After Kipling - _Here Is the Tale_, Anthony C. Deane, 543 - _Symposium of Poets, A_, Carolyn, Wells, 757 - After Longfellow - _Rejected “National Hymns,”_ Robert Henry Newell, 695 - After Macaulay - _Poets at Tea, The_, Barry Pain, 551 - After George Meredith - _At the Sign of the Cock_, Owen Seaman, 541 - After Milton - _The Splendid Shilling_, John Philips, 423 - After Thomas Moore - “There’s a bower of bean vines,” Phœbe Cary, 677 - After E. A. Poe - _Poets at Tea, The_, Barry Pain, 553 - _Symposium of Poets, A_, Carolyn Wells, 753 - After Rossetti - _Ballad_, Charles Stuart Calverley, 506 - _Poets at Tea, The_, Barry Pain, 553 - After Southey - _The Friend of Humanity and the Knife-Grinder_, George Canning, - 439 - After Swinburne - _Jack and Jill_, Charles Battell Loomis, 736 - _Nephilidia_, Algernon Charles Swinburne, 523 - _Poets at Tea, The_, Barry Pain, 551 - _Symposium of Poets, A_, Carolyn Wells, 757 - After Tennyson - _Higher Pantheism in a Nutshell, The_, Algernon Charles - Swinburne, 522 - _The Lay of the Lovelorn_, William Edmonstoune Aytoun, 495 - _Poets at Tea, The_, Barry Pain, 551 - After Walt Whitman - _Jack and Jill_, Charles Battell Loomis, 7 - _Poets at Tea, The_, Barry Pain, 554 - After Whittier - _Rejected “National Hymns,”_ Robert Henry Newell, 696 - After Oscar Wilde - _Symposium of Poets, A_, Carolyn Wells, 759 - After Nathaniel P. Willis - _Rejected “National Hymns,”_ Robert Henry Newell, 697 - After Charles Wolfe - _“True and Original” Version, A_, Richard Harris Barham, 455 - After Wordsworth - _Baby’s Début, The_, James Smith, 466 - _Jacob_, Phœbe Cary, 677 - _Poets at Tea, The_, Barry Pain, 552 - After a Popular Song - _If I Should Die To-night_, Ben King, 728 - - Parody, 30 - - _Parson Gray_, Oliver Goldsmith, 434 - - _Partial Judge, The_ (from _Æsop’s Fables_), 45 - - PASCAL, BLAISE, - _On Mental Reservations_ (from _Les Provinciates_), 400 - - PASCHASIUS, STEPHANUS, - _Married Life_, 194 - - _Patient Cured, The_, Christian F. Gellert, 586 - - _Paying with the Sound of a Penny_ (from _Eulenspiegel’s Pranks_), - Tyll Eulenspiegel, 340 - - _Peasant of Larcarà, The_, Pitrá, 218 - - _Pegasus in the Yoke_, Friedrich von Schiller, 593 - - PEPYS, SAMUEL, - _Diary_ (extracts), 378 - - _Perplexity_, Unknown, 79 - - Persian humor, 73, 138–156, 196–199 - - Persian Jest-Book, 73 - - PERSIUS, - _Poetic Fame_ (from _Satires_), 104 - - _Pessimist, The_, Ben King, 727 - - _Peter Simple_ (extracts), Frederick Marryat, 474 - - PETRONIUS, 101 - _Ingenious Cook, An_ (from _Trimalchio’s Banquet_), 102 - - PHILIPPIDES, Epigrams, 84 - - PHILIPS, JOHN, - _Splendid Shilling, The_, 423 - - _Phillis’ Age_, Matthew Prior, 389 - - _Philosopher, A_, Sam Walter Foss, 718 - - _Philosopher, The_ (from _The Fables_), Ivan Chemnitzer, 631 - - PHOENIX, JOHN. _See_ Derby, George Horatio - - _Phoenixiana_ (extract), George Horatio Derby, 678 - - _Phyllis Lee_, Oliver Herford, 744 - - Pictorial humor, 27, 46, 47, 48 - - _Pigtail, The_, Adelbert von Chamisso, 605 - - _Pike County Ballads_ (extract), John Hay, 690 - - Pilpay (or Bidpai), _Fables_, 120; - (Selections), 164–170 - - PITRÁ, - _The Peasant of Larcarà_, 218 - - PLATO, - idea of humor, 4 - _Miser and the Mouse, The_, 190 - _Thief and the Suicide, The_, 189 - - PLATO COMICUS, fragments, 66 - - PLAUTUS, 87 - _Military Swagger_ (from _The Braggart Captain_), 88 - _Suspicious Miser, The_ (from _The Pot of Gold_), 91 - - Playfulness of animals, 18 - - _Play’s the Thing_, Martial, 107 - - _Pleasant Conceits of Old Hobson, The_ (extract), Richard Johnson, - 265, 267 - - _Pleasantries of Cogia Nasr Eddin Effendi, The_ (extracts), 199 - - _Pleasure of Fishes, The_ (from _Autumn Floods_), Chwang Tze, 157 - - _Poems in Prose_, Ivan Turgenieff, 638 - - _Poetic Fame_ (from _Satires_), Persius, 104 - - _Poets_, Samuel Butler, 377 - - _Poets at Tea, The_, Barry Pain, 551 - - POGGIO, Italian stories, 182 - - Polish humor, 639–641 - - PONTALAIS, JEHAN DU, - _Money_, 322 - - POPE, ALEXANDER, 17 - _Epigram on Mrs. Tofts_, 421 - _Lines by a Person of Quality_, 419 - _Worms_, 420 - - _Pope and Sultan_ (German Student Song), 613 - - _Pope and the Net, The_, Robert Browning, 502 - - _Popularity_, Sung Yu, 158 - - PRAED, WINTHROP MACKWORTH, - _Song of Impossibilities, A_, 484 - - _Praise of Folly, The_ (extracts), Desiderius Erasmus, 337 - - _Prayer_, Ivan Turgenieff, 638 - - PRIOR, MATTHEW, 386 - _Epitaph, An_, 387 - _Phillis’ Age_, 389 - _Reasonable Affliction, A_, 389 - _Simile, A_, 388 - - _Prodigal Egg, The_, Oliver Herford, 747 - - Professional entertainers of the Middle Ages, 231–236 - - _Professor with a Small Class, A_, Lucilius, 77 - - _Professor’s Malady, The_ (from _Water Babies_), Charles Kingsley, - 498 - - _Proverbial Wisdom_, Anton Chekov, 639 - - _Provinciales, Les_ (extract), Blaise Pascal, 400 - - _Psycholophon_, Frank Gelett Burgess, 749 - - _Puffing_, Samuel Butler, 377 - - “Punning” (from Speeches), Sydney Smith, 446 - - _Purple Cow, The_, Frank Gelett Burgess, 748 - - _Python, The_, Hilaire Belloc, 555 - - - _Question of Precedence, A_ (from _Dialogues of the Gods_), Lucian, - 79 - - QUILLER-COUCH, ARTHUR THOMAS. _See_ Couch, Arthur Thomas Quiller- - - - RABELAIS, FRANÇOIS, - _Of the Diseases This Year_, 324 - _Of the Eclipses This Year_, 323 - _Of the Fruits of the Earth This Year_, 325 - _Lost Hatchet, The_ (from _Gargantua and Pantagruel_), 329 - “_Rabelais Imitates Diogenes_” (from _Gargantua and Pantagruel_), - 325 - - RADHI BILLAH, the Kaliph, - _To a Lady upon Seeing Her Blush_, 191 - - _Raising the Devil_, Richard Harris Barham, 456 - - RALEIGH, SIR WALTER, - _Lie, The_, 305 - - RASPE, RUDOLPH ERICH, - _Horse Tied to a Steeple, A_ (from _Adventures of Baron - Münchausen_), 589 - _Rather Large Whale, A_ (from _Adventures of Baron Münchausen_), - 590 - - _Raven, The_ (from Fables), Lessing, 588 - - _Raven, a Fox and a Serpent, A_, Pilpay, 166 - - _Reasonable Affliction, A_, Matthew Prior, 389 - - REDI, FRANCESCA, - _Diatribe Against Water_, 410 - - _Rejected Addresses_ (extract), James and Horace Smith, 465 - - _Rejected “National Hymns”_ (burlesque), Robert Henry Newell, 695 - - _Religion of Hudibras, The_ (from _Hudibras_), Samuel Butler, 374 - - _Remonstrance, The_, Sir John Suckling, 370 - - _Reuben_, Phœbe Cary, 678 - - _Reynard the Fox_, - forms and origin, 226 - Goethe’s version (extracts), 596 - - Riddles, - Arabian, 35 - Homer’s, 35 - Samson’s, 35 - Sphinx’s, 35 - - _Rig Vedas_ (extract), 34 - - ROBINSON, EDWIN ARLINGTON, - _Miniver Cheevy_, 740 - _Two Men_, 741 - - ROCHE, JAMES JEFFREY, - _Boston Lullaby, A_, 708 - _V-a-s-e, The_, 706 - - _Roland Enamored_ (extract), Francesco Berni, 352 - - _Roman Cockney, The_, Catullus, 97 - - Roman humor, 86–119, 181–182 - - _Rondeau, The_, Henry Austin Dobson, 525 - - _Rory O’More_, Samuel Lover, 481 - - _Rose Garden, The_ (_Gulistan_) (extracts), Sadi, 142 - - _Rounded with a Sleep_, Martial, 108 - - _Rubaiyat_ (extract), Omar Khayyam, 138 - - RÜCKERT, FRIEDRICH, - _Artist and Public_, 609 - - Russian humor, 217, 631–639 - - RUTEBŒUF, the Trouvère, - _Ass’s Testament, The_, 312 - - - SACCHETTI, FRANCHO, 354 - _On a Wet Day_, 355 - - _Sad End of Brer Wolf, The_ (from _Uncle Remus, His Songs and His - Sayings_), Joel Chandler Harris, 708 - - SADI, - _Discomfort Better Than Drowning_, (from _The Rose Garden_ - [_Gulistan_]), 142 - _Hatefulness of Old Husbands_ (from _The Rose Garden_), 144 - _Strict Schoolmaster and the Mild, The_ (from _The Rose Garden_), - 143 - _Wise Sayings_, 145 - - _Saintship versus Conscience_ (from _Hudibras_), Samuel Butler, 375 - - _Sakuntala_ (extract), Kaildasa, 121 - - _Salad_, Sydney Smith, 448 - - SALERNO, MASSUCHIO DI, - _Inheritance of a Library, The_ (from _Novellino_), 350 - - Samson’s Riddle, 35 - - SAN SHROE BU, - _Enforced Greatness_, 219 - - SANNAZARIUS, ACTIUS, - _On Aufidius_, 192 - - _Satires_ (extract), Horace, 98 - - _Satires_ (extract), Juvenal, 110 - - _Satires_ (extract), Persius, 104 - - Satires on dress, 230 - - SAXE, JOHN GODFREY, - _My Familiar_, 669 - - SCARRON, PAUL, - _Farewell to Chloris_, 398 - _Paris_, 398 - - Schildburgers, the, tales of, 341–344 - - SCHILLER, FRIEDRICH VON, - _Pegasus in the Yoke_, 593 - - _Scholar and His Dog, The_, John Marston, 310 - - _School_, James Kenneth Stephen, 550 - - _School for Scandal, The_ (extract), Richard Brinsley Sheridan, 437 - - _Schoolmaster with a Gay Wife, A_, Lucilius, 78 - - SCOGIN, - _Jests_, 263, 265 - - SEAMAN, SIR OWEN, - _At the Sign of the Cock_, 541 - _Nocturne at Danieli’s, A_, 537 - _To Julia under Lock and Key_, 540 - - _Select Passages from a Coming Poet_, T. A. Guthrie, 554 - - Sense of humor, 13, 14 - - SHAKESPEARE, - on sense of humor, 15 - as humorist, 277, 278, 280 - _As You Like It_ (extract), 288 - _Hamlet_ (extract), 286 - _Henry IV, Part I_ (extract), 281 - _Henry IV, Part II_ (extract), 279 - _Love’s Labour’s Lost_ (extract), 15 - _Merchant of Venice, The_ (extract), 286 - - SHAW, HENRY WHEELER (Josh Billings), 671 - _Hen, A_ (extract), 673 - _Tight Boots_ (extract), 671 - - SHERIDAN, RICHARD BRINSLEY, - _Calendar_, 438 - _Let the Toast Pass_ (from _The School for Scandal_), 437 - _Lord Erskine’s Simile_, 438 - - _Sheridan’s Calendar_, Richard Brinsley Sheridan, 438 - - SHILLABER, BENJAMIN PENHALLOW, - _After a Wedding_ (from _Mrs. Partington_), 664 - _Sick Schoolmaster, The_ (from _Stories in Rime [Masnavi]_), - Jalal uddin Rumi, 149 - - SILL, EDWARD ROWLAND, 690 - _Eves Daughter_, 698 - - _Simile, A_, Matthew Prior, 388 - - SIMONIDES, - _Fine Lady, The_, 65 - - _Simpleton and the Sharper, The_ (from _The Arabian Nights’ - Entertainment_), 127 - - _Singer, A_, Nearchus, 77 - - “Singing Mouse, The,” 52 - _Meeting, The_, 53 - - SKELTON, JOHN, - _How Skelton Came Late Home to Oxford from Abington_ (from - _Certayne Merye Tales_), 264 - _How the Welshman Dyd Desyre Skelton to Hyde Him in Hys Sute to - the Kynge for a Patent to Sell Drynke_, 263 - _To Maistres Margaret Hussey_, 261 - - _Sleep_, Baltazar del Alcazar, 359 - - _Slight Misunderstanding, A_ (from _Contés Drolatiques_), Honoré de - Balzac, 567 - - SMITH, HORACE, - _Jester Condemned to Death, The_, 469 - _Milkmaid and the Banker, The_, 468 - - SMITH, JAMES, - _Baby’s Debut, The_, 466 - - SMITH, SEBA (Major Jack Downing), - _My First Visit to Portland_, 662 - - SMITH, SYDNEY, - _Mrs. Partington_ (from Speech), 448 - “Punning” (from Speeches), 446 - _Salad_, 448 - - SMOLLETT, 429 - - _Society upon the Stanislaus, The_, Francis Bret Harte, 686 - - “_Soldier, Rest!_” Robert Jones Burdette, 701 - - SOMADEVA, - _Kathá Sarit Ságara_, 214 - - _Some Geese_, Oliver Herford, 744 - - _Some Hallucinations_, Lewis Carroll, 518 - - _Some Ladies_, Frederick Locker-Lampson, 505 - - _Song_, Richard Lovelace, 369 - - _Song--After Herrick_, Oliver Herford, 747 - - _Song of Impossibilities, A_, Winthrop Mackworth Praed, 484 - - _Sonnet_: “Two voices are there: one is of the deep,” James Kenneth - Stephen, 548 - - _Sorrows of Werther_, William Makepeace Thackeray, 490 - - _Soul of the Cabbage, The_, Cyrano de Bergerac, 390 - - SOUTHEY, ROBERT, - _Ten Lost Tribes of Israel, The_, (from _The Doctor_), 450 - _Well of St. Keyne, The_, 451 - - Spanish Apothegms of Melchior de Santa Cruz, 84 - - Spanish humor, 184–189, 359–364, 411–412, 626–630 - - Sphinx’s Riddle, 35 - - _Splendid Shilling, The_, John Philips, 423 - - _Stanza for a Tobacco-Pouch, A_, Yuan Mei, 158 - - STEDMAN, EDMUND CLARENCE, 683 - - STEPHEN, JAMES KENNETH, - _Millennium, The_, 549 - _School_, 550 - _Sonnet_, “Two voices are there: one is of the deep,” 548 - _Thought, A_, 549 - - STEPHENS, HENRY (Henri Estienne), - _Noodle Stories_ from Introduction to _Apology for Herodotus_, - 215 - - STERNE, 429 - - STEVENSON, ROBERT LOUIS, - _Child’s Verses_ (extracts), 534 - - STILL, JOHN, - _Jolly Good Ale and Old_ (from _Gammer Gurton’s Needle_), 308 - - STOCKTON, FRANK R., - _Lady and the Tiger, The_, 686 - - _Stolen Pig, The_ (from the _Decameron_), Giovanni Boccaccio, 345 - - _Stories in Rime_ (extracts), Jalal uddin Rumi, 149 - - _Strict Schoolmaster and the Mild, The_ (from _The Rose Garden_ - [_Gulistan_]), Sadi, 143 - - _Stupid Man_ (from _The Characters_), Theophrastus, 72 - - SUCKLING, SIR JOHN, 368 - _Constant Lover, The_, 369 - _Remonstrance, The_, 370 - - SUNG YU, - _Popularity_, 158 - - _Sunt Qui Servari Nolunt_, Jonathan Swift, 418 - - _Supper-Party of the Three Cavaliers, The_ (from _Mimi Pinson_), - Louis Charles Alfred de Musset, 569 - - _Suspicious Miser, The_ (from _The Pot of Gold_), Plautus, 91 - - _Swan, the Pike and the Crab, The_, Ivan Krylov, 633 - - SWIFT, JONATHAN, - _Against Abolishing Christianity_, 415 - _Furniture of a Woman’s Mind, The_, 416 - _On His Own Deafness_, 418 - _Sunt Qui Servari Nolunt_, 418 - _“To Mrs. Houghton of Bormount, upon praising her husband to Dr. - Swift,”_ 419 - - SWINBURNE, CHARLES ALGERNON, 521 - _Higher Pantheism in a Nutshell, The_, 522 - _Nephelidia_, 523 - - _Symposium of Poets, A_, Carolyn Wells, 752 - - - _Tales of a Grandfather_ (extract), Victor Marie Hugo, 580 - - _Talmud, The_ (extracts), 124 - - _Tatler, The_ (extract), Joseph Addison, 422 - - TAYLOR, JAMES BAYARD, - _Palabras Grandiosas_ (from Echo Club), 683 - - TAYLOR, JOHN, - _Wit and Mirth_ (extracts), 74, 268, 270 - - _Ten Lost Tribes of Israel, The_ (from _The Doctor_), Robert - Southey, 450 - - TENNYSON, ALFRED, - _The Goose_, 500 - - TERENCE, - _Parasites and Gnathonites_ (from _Eunuchus_), 96 - - _Ternary of Littles upon a Pipkin of Jelly sent to a Lady, A_, - Robert Herrick, 365 - - _Terrible Infant, A_, Frederick Locker-Lampson, 505 - - THACKERAY, WILLIAM MAKEPEACE, 486 - _Little Billee_, 487 - _Sorrows of Werther_, 490 - _When Moonlike Ore the Hazure Seas_, 490 - _Wolfe New Ballad of Jane Roney and Mary Brown, The_, 488 - - _That Gentle Man from Boston Town_, Joaquin Miller, 692 - - THAYER, ERNEST LAWRENCE, - _Casey at the Bat_, 729 - - _Theophile’s Mother-in-Law_ (from _A Much Worried Gentleman_), - Charles Paul de Kock, 572 - - THEOPHRASTUS, - _Of Loquacity_ (from _The Characters_), 71 - _Of Slovenliness_ (from _The Characters_), 70 - _Stupid Man, The_ (from _The Characters_), 72 - - _There Was a Little Girl_, Henry Wadsworth Longfellow, 667 - - “There’s a Bower of Bean-Vines,” Phœbe Cary, 677 - - _Thief and the Suicide, The_, Plato, 189 - - _Thief Turned Merchant and the Other Thief, The_ (from _The Arabian - Nights’ Entertainment_), 128 - - THOMAS, PAULUS, - _On Celsus_, 194 - - _Thought, A_, James Kenneth Stephen, 549 - - _Thoughts_, Jean de la Bruyère, 406 - - _Threnody, A_, George Thomas Lanigan, 704 - - _Through the Looking-Glass_ (extract), Lewis Carroll, 515 - - _Tight Boots_, Henry Wheeler Shaw (Josh Billings), 671 - - _Tithes_, a Hebrew Satire, 31 - - _To a Friend in Distress_, Johannes Audœmus, 194 - - _To a Lady Upon Seeing Her Blush_, The Kaliph Radhi Billah, 191 - - _To a Mosquito_, William Cullen Bryant, 655 - - _To a Poet_, José Morell, 412 - - _To Aulus_, Martial, 107 - - _To Catullus_, Martial, 107 - - _To Julia under Lock and Key_, Sir Owen Seaman, 540 - - _To Linus_, Martial, 109 - - _To Maistres Margaret Hussey_, John Skelton, 261 - - _To Mamercus_, Martial, 110 - - _To Mrs. Houghton of Bormount, upon praising her husband to Dr. - Swift_, Jonathan Swift, 419 - - _To My Empty Purse_, Chaucer, 257 - - _To My Nose_, Olivier Basselin, 316 - - _To Perrault_, Nicolas Boileau-Despreaux, 405 - - _To Philomusus_, Euricius Cordus, 192 - - _To Postumus_, Martial, 107 - - _To Sabidius_, Martial, 107 - - _To Sally_, John Quincy Adams, 650 - - _To the Ghost of Martial_, Ben Jonson, 295 - - _To the Pliocene Skull_, Francis Bret Harte, 688 - - _To the Terrestrial Globe_, William Schwenck Gilbert, 529 - - _To the Vizier Cassim Obid Allah, On the Death of One of His Sons_, - Aly Ben Ahmed Ben Mansour, 191 - - _To Zoilus_, Georgius Buchananus, 193 - - _Tooth for Tooth_, Edmondo de Amicis, 623 - - _Total Abstainer, A_, Martial, 108 - - _Touching the Olfactory Organ_, Alexander Dumas, the Elder, 574 - - _Town of Göttingen, The_, Heinrich Heine, 611 - - TOWNSEND, EDWARD WATERMAN, - _Chimmie Fadden_ (extract), 716 - - _Trimalchio’s Banquet_ (extract), Petronius, 101 - - Troubadours, 236 - - Troubadours’ Songs, 236–240 - - Trouvères, 236, 253 - - TROWBRIDGE, JOHN T., 681 - - _“True and Original” Version, A_, Richard Harris Barham, 455 - - _True to Poll_, Francis C. Burnand, 532 - - TURGENIEFF, IVAN, - _Beneficence and Gratitude_, 638 - Prayer, 638 - - Turkish humor, 33, 199–204, 213 - - _Tushmaker’s Tooth-Puller_, George Horatio Derby, 678 - - TWAIN, MARK. _See_ Clemens, Samuel Langhorne - - _Two Men_, Edwin Arlington Robinson, 741 - - _Two Old Bachelors, The_, Edward Lear, 520 - - “Two voices are there: one is of the deep,” James Kenneth Stephen, - 548 - - - UDALL, NICHOLAS, 277 - - Ulysses, stories of, 46 - - _Uncle Remus, His Songs and His Sayings_ (extract), 708 - - _Upon Being Obliged to Leave a Pleasant Party_, Thomas Moore, 481 - - - _V-a-s-e, The_, James Jeffrey Roche, 706 - - Vega, Lope de, 359 - - _Vendetta_, Martial, 108 - - VENTADOUR, BERNARD DE, - “You say the moon is all aglow,” 237 - - _Vers de Société_, 503, 524, 706 - - _Vicissitudes of a Donkey_ (from _The Golden Ass_), Apuleius, 116 - - _Villanelle_, William Ernest Henley, 533 - - _Villanelle of Things Amusing_, Frank Gelett Burgess, 748 - - VILLON, FRANÇOIS, - _Ballad of the Women of Paris_, 320 - _Ballade of Dead Ladies, The_, 318 - _Ballade of Old Time Ladies, A_, 319 - - _Vintner, A_, Ben Johnson, 295 - - _Visit from St. Nicholas, A_, Clement C. Moore, 652 - - _Voice from the Grave, A_, Unknown, 190 - - _Volpone_ (extract), Ben Jonson, 294 - - VOLTAIRE (Francis Marie Arouet), - _Candide_ (extract), 560 - - - WALLER, EDMUND, 368 - - _Walloping Window-Blind, The_, Charles E. Carryl, 699 - - WARD, ARTEMUS. _See_ Browne, Charles Farrar - - WARD, WILLIAM HAYES, - on Greek humor, 44 - - WARNER, CHARLES DUDLEY, 681 - - _Water Babies_ (extract), Charles Kingsley, 498 - - _Ways and Means_, Lewis Carroll, 516 - - _Well of St. Keyne, The_, Robert Southey, 451 - - WELLS, CAROLYN, - _Idiot’s Delight, The_, 749 - _Mystery, The_, 751 - _Symposium of Poets, A_, 752 - _Woman_, 751 - - WENGIERSKI, KAJETAN, - _Dream Wife, The_, 639 - - WESLEY, SAMUEL, 51 - Homer’s _The Battle of the Frogs and Mice_, 54 - - _What’s In a Name?_ Richard Kendall Munkittrick, 715 - - _What Might Have Been_, Martial, 108 - - _What Mr. Robinson Thinks_ (from _Biglow Papers_), James Russell - Lowell, 674 - - _What Will We Do?_ Robert Jones Burdette, 700 - - _What’s My Thought Like?_ Thomas Moore, 480 - - _When Moonlike Ore the Hazure Seas_, William Makepeace Thackeray, - 490 - - WHITCHER, MRS. FRANCES MIRIAM, 664 - - WHITE, RICHARD GRANT, 678 - - _Why Don’t the Men Propose?_ Thomas Haynes Bayly, 472 - - _Widow Malone_, Charles Lever, 483 - - _Wife’s Ruse, A_: A Rabbinical Tale, 32 - - _Will, The_, John Donne, 296 - - _Will of a Virtuoso, The_ (from _The Tatler_), Joseph Addison, 422 - - _William Tell_ (from _Tartarin in the Alps_), Alphonse Daudet, 583 - - WILLIS, NATHANIEL PARKER, - _Love in a Cottage_, 661 - - Wit and humor, - Hazlitt on the distinction between, 15–17 - - _Wit and Mirth_ (extracts), John Taylor, 74, 268–270 - - _Wolfe New Ballad of Jane Roney and Mary Brown, The_, William - Makepeace Thackeray, 488 - - _Woman_, Carolyn Wells, 751 - - _Worms_, Alexander Pope, 420 - - _Wreck of the “Julie Plante,” The_, William H. Drummond, M.D., 726 - - WRIGHT, THOMAS, on caricature by prehistoric man, 25 - - - “You say the moon is all aglow,” Bernard de Ventadour, 237 - - YRIARTE, THOMAS, - _Ass and the Flute, The_, 626 - _Country Squire, The_, 628 - _Eggs, The_, 627 - - YUAN MEI, - _Recipes_ (from _Cookery Book_), 159 - _Stanza for a Tobacco-Pouch, A_, (from _Letters_), 158 - - -FOOTNOTES: - -[1] For putting out the fire in a brasier or cooking-stove. - -[2] A Shrawn is a pure Gaelic noise, something like a groan, more like -a shriek, and most like a sigh of longing. - -[3] Eire was daughter of Carne, King of Connaught. Her lover, Murdh of -the Open Hand, was captured by Greatcoat Mackintosh, King of Ulster, on -the plain of Carrisbool and made into soup. Eire’s grief on this sad -occasion has become proverbial. - -[4] Garnim was second cousin to Manannan MacLir. His sons were always -sad about something. There were twenty-two of them, and they were all -unfortunate in love at the same time, just like a chorus at the opera. -“Blitherin’ their drool” is about the same as “dreeing their weird.” - -[5] The Shee (or “Sidhe,” as I should properly spell it if you were -not so ignorant) were, as everybody knows, the regular, stand-pat, -organization fairies of Erin. The Crowdie was their annual convention, -at which they made melancholy sounds. The Itt and Himm were the -irregular, or insurgent, fairies. They _never_ got any offices or -patronage. See MacAlester, _Polity of the Sidhe of West Meath_, -page 985. - -[6] The Barryhoo is an ancient Celtic bird about the size of a -Mavis, with lavender eyes and a black-crape tail. It continually -mourns its mate (Barrywhich, feminine form), which has an hereditary -predisposition to an early and tragic demise and invariably dies first. - -[7] Magraw, a Gaelic term of endearment, often heard on the baseball -fields of Donnybrook. - -[8] These last six words are all that tradition has preserved of the -original incantation by means of which Irish rats were rhymed to death. -Thereby hangs a good Celtic tale, which I should be glad to tell you in -this note; but the publishers say that being prosed to death is as bad -as being rhymed to death, and that the readers won’t stand for any more. - - -Transcriber’s Notes: - -1. Obvious printers’, punctuation and spelling errors have been -corrected silently. - -2. Some hyphenated and non-hyphenated versions of the same words have -been retained as in the original. - -3. Superscripts are represented using the caret character, e.g. D^r. -or X^{xx}. - -4. 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