THE
BOOK OF NOODLES:
_STORIES OF SIMPLETONS; OR,
FOOLS AND THEIR FOLLIES_.
BY
W.A. CLOUSTON,
_Author of "Popular Tales and Fictions; their Migrations and
Transformations_"
"Excellent! Why, this is the best fooling when all
is done."--_Twelfth Night_.
LONDON:
ELLIOT STOCK, 62, PATERNOSTER ROW.
1888.
Library of Congress Catalog Card Number 67-24351
TO MY DEAR FRIEND
DAVID ROSS, LL.D., M.A., B.Sc.,
PRINCIPAL OF THE
CHURCH OF SCOTLAND TRAINING COLLEGE,
GLASGOW,
THIS COLLECTION OF FACETIÆ
IS DEDICATED.
_PREFACE_.
_Like popular tales in general, the original sources of stories of
simpletons are for the most part not traceable. The old Greek jests of
this class had doubtless been floating about among different peoples
long before they were reduced to writing. The only tales and apologues
of noodles or stupid folk to which an approximate date can be assigned
are those found in the early Buddhist books, especially in the
"Játakas," or Birth-stories, which are said to have been related to his
disciples by Gautama, the illustrious founder of Buddhism, as incidents
which occurred to himself and others in former births, and were
afterwards put into a literary form by his followers. Many of the
"Játakas" relate to silly men and women, and also to stupid animals, the
latter being, of course, men re-born as beasts, birds, or reptiles. But
it is not to be supposed that all are of Buddhist invention; some had
doubtless been current for ages among the Hindus before Gautama
promulgated his mild doctrines. Scholars are, however, agreed that these
fictions date at latest from a century prior to the Christian era._
_Of European noodle-stories, as of other folk-tales, it may be said
that, while they are numerous, yet the elements of which they are
composed are comparatively very few. The versions domiciled in different
countries exhibit little originality, farther than occasional
modifications in accordance with local manners and customs. Thus for the
stupid Brahman of Indian stories the blundering, silly son is often
substituted in European variants; for the brose in Norse and Highland
tales we find polenta or macaroni in Italian and Sicilian versions. The
identity of incidents in the noodle-stories of Europe with those in what
are for us their oldest forms, the Buddhist and Indian books, is very
remarkable, particularly so in the case of Norse popular fictions,
which, there is every reason to believe, were largely introduced through
the Mongolians; and the similarity of Italian and West Highland stories
to those of Iceland and Norway would seem to indicate the influence of
the Norsemen in the Western Islands of Scotland and in the south of
Europe._
_It were utterly futile to attempt to trace the literary history of
most of the noodle-stories which appear to have been current throughout
European countries for many generations, since they have practically
none. Soon after the invention of printing collections of facetiæ were
rapidly multiplied, the compilers taking their material from oral as
well as written sources, amongst others, from mediæval collections of
"exempla" designed for the use of preachers and the writings of the
classical authors of antiquity. With the exception of those in Buddhist
works, it is more than probable that the noodle-stories which are found
among all peoples never had any other purpose than that of mere
amusement. Who, indeed, could possibly convert the "witless devices" of
the men of Gotham into vehicles of moral instruction? Only the monkish
writers of the Middle Ages, who even "spiritualised" tales which, if
reproduced in these days, must be "printed for private circulation"!_
_Yet may the typical noodle of popular tales "point a moral," after a
fashion. Poor fellow! he follows his instructions only too literally,
and with a firm conviction that he is thus doing a very clever thing.
But the consequence is almost always ridiculous. He practically shows
the fallacy of the old saw that "fools learn by experience," for his
next folly is sure to be greater than the last, in spite of every
caution to the contrary. He is generally very honest, and does
everything, like the man in the play, "with the best intentions." His
mind is incapable of entertaining more than one idea at a time; but to
that he holds fast, with the tenacity of the lobster's claw: he cannot
be diverted from it until, by some accident, a fresh idea displaces it;
and so on he goes from one blunder to another. His blunders, however,
which in the case of an ordinary man would infallibly result in disaster
to himself or to others, sometimes lead him to unexpected good fortune.
He it is, in fact, to whom the great Persian poet Sádí alludes when he
says, in his charming "Gulistán," or Rose Garden, "The alchemist died of
grief and distress, while the blockhead found a treasure under a ruin."
Men of intelligence toil painfully to acquire a mere "livelihood"'; the
noodle stumbles upon great wealth in the midst of his wildest vagaries.
In brief, he is--in stories, at least--a standing illustration of the
"vanity of human life"!_
_And now a few words as to the history and design of the following
work. When the Folk-lore Society was formed, some nine years since, the
late Mr. W.J. Thoms, who was one of the leading men in its formation,
promised to edit for the Society the "Merry Tales of the Mad Men of
Gotham," furnishing notes of analogous stories, a task which he was
peculiarly qualified to perform. As time passed on, however, the
infirmities of old age doubtless rendered the purposed work less and
less attractive to him, and his death, after a long, useful, and
honourable career, left it still undone. What particular plan he had
sketched out for himself I do not know; but there can be no doubt that
had he carried it out the results would have been most valuable. And,
since he did not perform his self-allotted task, his death is surely a
great loss, perhaps an irreparable loss, to English students of
comparative folk-lore._
_More than five years ago, with a view of urging Mr. Thoms to set
about the work, I offered to furnish him with some material in the shape
of Oriental noodle-stories; but from a remark in his reply I feared
there would be no need for such services as I could render him. That
fear has been since realised, and the present little book is now offered
as a humble substitute for the intended work of Mr. Thoms, until it is
displaced by a more worthy one._
_Since the "Tales of the Men of Gotham" ceased to be reproduced in
chap-book form, the first reprint of the collection was made in 1840,
with an introduction by Mr. J.O. Halliwell (now Halliwell-Phillipps);
and that brochure is become almost as scarce as the chap-book copies
themselves: the only copy I have seen is in the Euing collection in the
Glasgow University Library. The tales were next reprinted in the
"Shakespeare Jest-books," so ably edited and annotated by Mr. W. Carew
Hazlitt, in three volumes (1864). They were again reproduced in Mr. John
Ashton's "Chap-books of the Eighteenth Century" (1882)._
_It did not enter into the plan of any of these editors to cite
analogues or variants of the Gothamite Tales; nor, on the other hand,
was it any part of my design in the present little work to reproduce the
Tales in the same order as they appear in the printed collection. Yet
all that are worth reproducing in a work of this description will be
found in the chapters entitled "Gothamite Drolleries," of which they
form, indeed, but a small portion._
_My design has been to bring together, from widely scattered sources,
many of which are probably unknown or inaccessible to ordinary readers,
the best of this class of humorous narratives, in their oldest existing
Buddhist and Greek forms as well as in the forms in which they are
current among the people in the present day. It will, perhaps, be
thought by some that a portion of what is here presented might have been
omitted without great loss; but my aim has been not only to compile an
amusing story-book, but to illustrate to some extent the migrations of
popular fictions from country to country. In this design I was assisted
by Captain R.C. Temple, one of the editors of the "Indian Antiquary,"
and one of the authors of "Wide-awake Stories," from the Punjab and
Kashmir, who kindly directed me to sources whence I have drawn some
curious Oriental parallels to European stories of simpletons._
_W.A.C._
*.* _While my "Popular Tales and Fictions" was passing through the
press, in 1886, I made reference (in vol. i., p. 65) to the present
work, as it was purposed to be published that year, but Mr. Stock has
had unavoidably to defer its publication till now._
_W.A.C_.
GLASGOW, _March_, 1888.
CONTENTS.
CHAPTER I.
ANCIENT GRECIAN NOODLES 1-15
CHAPTER II.
GOTHAMITE DROLLERIES:
Reputed communities of stupids in different countries--The noodles of
Norfolk: their lord's bond; the dog and the honey; the fool and his sack
of meal--Tales of the Mad Men of Gotham: Andrew Borde not the author--
The two Gothamites at Notts Bridge--The hedging of the cuckoo--How the
men of Gotham paid their rents--The twelve fishers and the courtier--The
_Gúrú Paramartan_--The brothers of Bakki--Drowning the eel--The
Gothamite and his cheese--The trivet--The buzzard--The gossips at the
alehouse--The cheese on the highway--The wasp's nest--Casting sheep's
eyes--The devil in the meadow--The priest of Gotham--The "boiling"
river--The moon a green cheese--The "carles of Austwick"--The Wiltshire
farmer and his pigs
16-55
CHAPTER III.
GOTHAMITE DROLLERIES (_continued_):
The men of Schilda: the dark council-house; the mill-stone; the cat--
Sinhalese noodles: the man who observed Buddha's five precepts--The fool
and the _Rámáyana_--The two Arabian noodles--The alewife and her
hens--"Sorry he has gone to heaven"--The man of Hama and the man of
Hums--_Bizarrures_ of the Sieur Gaulard--The rustic and the dog
56-80
CHAPTER IV.
GOTHAMITE DROLLERIES (_continued_):
The simpleton and the sharpers--The schoolmaster's lady-love--The judge
and the thieves--The calf's head--The Kashmírí and his store of rice--
The Turkish noodle: the kerchief; the caftan; the wolf's tail; the right
hand and the left; the stolen cheese; the moon in the well--The good
dreams--Chinese noodles: the lady and her husband; the stolen spade; the
relic-hunter--Indian noodles: the fools and the mosquitoes; the fools
and the palm-trees; the servants and the trunks; taking care of the
door; the fool and the aloes-wood; the fool and the cotton; the cup lost
in the sea; the fool and the thieves; the simpletons who ate the
buffalo; the princess who was made to grow; the washerman's ass
transformed; the foolish herdsman--Noodle-stories moralised--The
brothers and their heritage--Sowing roasted sesame
81-120
CHAPTER V.
THE SILLY SON:
Simple Simon--The Norse booby--The Russian booby--The Japanese noodle--
The Arabian idiot--The English silly son--The Sinhalese noodle with the
robbers--The Italian booby--The Arab simpleton and his cow--The Russian
fool and the birch-tree--The silly wife deceived by her husband--The
Indian fool on the tree-branch--The Indian monk who believed he was
dead--The Florentine fool and the young men--The Indian silly son as a
fisher; as a messenger; killing a mosquito; as a pupil--The best of the
family--The doctor's apprentice
121-170
CHAPTER VI.
THE FOUR SIMPLE BRÁHMANS:
Introduction 171
Story of the first Bráhman 176
Story of the second Bráhman 178
Story of the third Bráhman 181
Story of the fourth Bráhman 185
Conclusion 190
CHAPTER VII.
THE THREE GREAT NOODLES 191-218
* * * * *
APPENDIX.
JACK OF DOVER'S QUEST OF THE FOOL OF ALL FOOLS 219
THE BOOK OF NOODLES.
CHAPTER I.
ANCIENT GRECIAN NOODLES.
"Old as the days of Hierokles!" is the exclamation of the "classical"
reader on hearing a well-worn jest; while, on the like occasion, that of
the "general" reader--a comprehensive term, which, doubtless, signifies
one who knows "small Latin and less Greek"--is, that it is "a Joe
Miller;" both implying that the critic is too deeply versed in
_joke-ology_ to be imposed upon, to have an old jest palmed on him
as new, or as one made by a living wit. That the so-called jests of
Hierokles are _old_ there can be no doubt whatever; that they were
collected by the Alexandrian sage of that name is more than doubtful;
while it is certain that several of them are much older than the time in
which he flourished, namely, the fifth century: it is very possible that
some may date even as far back as the days of the ancient Egyptians! It
is perhaps hardly necessary to say that honest Joseph Miller, the
comedian, was not the compiler of the celebrated jest-book with which
his name is associated; that it was, in fact, simply a bookseller's
trick to entitle a heterogeneous collection of jokes, "quips, and
cranks, and quiddities," _Joe Millers Jests; or, The Wit's Vade
Mecum_. And when one speaks of a jest as being "a Joe Miller," he
should only mean that it is "familiar as household words," not that it
is of contemptible antiquity, albeit many of the jokes in "Joe Miller"
are, at least, "as old as Hierokles," such, for instance, as that of the
man who trained his horse to live on a straw _per diem_, when it
suddenly died, or that of him who had a house to sell and carried about
a brick as a specimen of it.
The collection of facetiæ ascribed to Hierokles, by whomsoever it was
made, is composed of very short anecdotes of the sayings and doings of
pedants, who are represented as noodles, or simpletons. In their
existing form they may not perhaps be of much earlier date than the
ninth century. They seem to have come into the popular facetiæ of Europe
through the churchmen of the Middle Ages, and, after having circulated
long orally, passed into literature, whence, like other kinds of tales,
they once more returned to the people. We find in them the indirect
originals of some of the bulls and blunders which have in modern times
been credited to Irishmen and Scotch Highlanders, and the germs also,
perhaps, of some stories of the Gothamite type: as brave men lived
before Agamemnon, so, too, the race of Gothamites can boast of a very
ancient pedigree! By far the greater number of them, however, seem now
pithless and pointless, whatever they may have been considered in
ancient days, when, perhaps, folk found food for mirth in things which
utterly fail to tickle our "sense of humour" in these double-distilled
days. Of the [Greek: Asteia], or facetiæ, of Hierokles, twenty-eight
only are appended to his Commentary on Pythagoras and the fragments of
his other works edited, with Latin translations, by Needham, and
published at Cambridge in 1709. A much larger collection, together with
other Greek jests--of the people of Abdera, Sidonia, Cumæ, etc.--has
been edited by Eberhard, under the title of _Philogelos Hieraclis el
Philagrii Facetia_ which was published at Berlin in 1869.
In attempting to classify the best of these relics of ancient wit--or
witlessness, rather--it is often difficult to decide whether a
particular jest is of the Hibernian bull, or blunder, genus or an
example of that droll stupidity which is the characteristic of noodles
or simpletons. In the latter class, however, one need not hesitate to
place the story of the men of Cumæ, who were expecting shortly to be
visited by a very eminent man, and having but one bath in the town, they
filled it afresh, and placed an open grating in the middle, in order
that half the water should be kept clean for his sole use.
But we at once recognise our conventional Irishman in the pedant who, on
going abroad, was asked by a friend to buy him two slave-boys of fifteen
years each, and replied, "If I cannot find such a pair, I will bring you
one of thirty years;" and in the fellow who was quarrelling with his
father, and said to him, "Don't you know how much injury you have done
me? Why, had you not been born, I should have inherited my grandfather's
estate;" also in the pedant who heard that a raven lived two hundred
years, and bought one that he should ascertain the fact for himself.
Among Grecian Gothamites, again, was the hunter who was constantly
disturbed by dreams of a boar pursuing him, and procured dogs to sleep
with him. Another, surely, was the man of Cumæ who wished to sell some
clothes he had stolen, and smeared them with pitch, so that they should
not be recognised by the owner. They were Gothamites, too, those men of
Abdera who punished a runaway ass for having got into the gymnasium and
upset the olive oil. Having brought all the asses of the town together,
as a caution, they flogged the delinquent ass before his fellows.
Some of the jests of Hierokles may be considered either as witticisms or
witless sayings of noodles; for example, the story of the man who
recovered his health though the doctor had sworn he could not live, and
afterwards, being asked by his friends why he seemed to avoid the doctor
whenever they were both likely to meet, he replied, "He told me I should
not live, and now I am ashamed to be alive;" or that of the pedant who
said to the doctor, "Pardon me for not having been sick so long;" or
this, "I dreamt that I saw and spoke to you last night:" quoth the
other, "By the gods, I was so busy, I did not hear you."
But our friend the Gothamite reappears in the pedant who saw some
sparrows on a tree, and went quietly under it, stretched out his robe,
and shook the tree, expecting to catch the sparrows as they fell, like
ripe fruit again, in the pedant who lay down to sleep, and, finding he
had no pillow, bade his servant place a jar under his head, after
stuffing it full of feathers to render it soft; again, in the
cross-grained fellow who had some honey for sale, and a man coming up to
him and inquiring the price, he upset the jar, and then replied, "You
may shed my heart's blood like that before I tell such as you;" and
again, in the man of Abdera who tried to hang himself, when the rope
broke, and he hurt his head; but after having the wound dressed by the
doctor, he went and accomplished his purpose. And we seem to have a
trace of them in the story of the pedant who dreamt that a nail had
pierced his foot, and in the morning he bound it up; when he told a
friend of his mishap, he said, "Why do you sleep barefooted?"
The following jest is spread--_mutatis mutandis_--over all Europe:
A pedant, a bald man, and a barber, making a journey in company, agreed
to watch in turn during the night. It was the barber's watch first. He
propped up the sleeping pedant, and shaved his head, and when his time
came, awoke him. When the pedant felt his head bare, "What a fool is
this barber," he cried, "for he has roused the bald man instead of me!"
A variant of this story is related of a raw Highlander, fresh from the
heather, who put up at an inn in Perth, and shared his bed with a negro.
Some coffee-room jokers having blackened his face during the night, when
he was called, as he had desired, very early next morning, and got up,
he saw the reflection of his face in the mirror, and exclaimed in a
rage, "Tuts, tuts! The silly body has waukened the wrang man."
In connection with these two 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 Curtails in all the Country; he neuer
shewed me such a trick before in all his life."[1]
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."[2]
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 _Katha
Manjari_: One day a thief climbed up a cocoa-nut 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 cocoa-nut 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 propensity with which Irishmen are credited of making ludicrous
bulls is said to have its origin, not from any lack of intelligence, but
rather in the fancy of that lively race, which often does not wait for
expression until the ideas have taken proper verbal form. Be this as it
may, a considerable portion of the bulls popularly ascribed to Irishmen
are certainly "old as the jests of Hierokles," and are, moreover,
current throughout Europe. Thus in Hierokles we read that one of
twin-brothers having recently died, a pedant, meeting the survivor,
asked him whether it was he or his brother who had deceased.--Taylor has
this in his _Wit and Mirth_, and he probably heard it from some one
who had read the facetious tales of the Sieur Gaulard: "A nobleman of
France (as he was riding) met with a yeoman of the Country, to whom he
said, My friend, I should know thee. I doe remember I haue often seene
thee. My good Lord, said the countriman, I am one of your Honers poore
tenants, and my name is T.J. I remember better now (said my Lord); there
were two brothers of you, but one is dead; I pray, which of you doth
remaine alive?"--Mr. W. Carew Hazlitt, in the notes to his edition of
Taylor's collection _(Shakespeare Jest Books_, Third Series), cites
a Scotch parallel from _The Laird of Logan_: "As the Paisley
steamer came alongside the quay[3] at the city of the Seestus,[4] a
denizen of St. Mirren's hailed one of the passengers: 'Jock! Jock! distu
hear, man? Is that you or your brother?'" And to the same point is the
old nursery rhyme,--
"Ho, Master Teague, what is your story?
I went to the wood, and killed a tory;[5]
I went to the wood, and killed another:
Was it the same, or was it his brother?"[6]
We meet with a very old acquaintance in the pedant who lost a book and
sought for it many days in vain, till one day he chanced to be eating
lettuces, when, turning a corner, he saw it on the ground. Afterwards
meeting a friend who was lamenting the loss of his girdle, he said to
him, "Don't grieve; buy some lettuces; eat them at a corner; turn round
it, go a little way on, and you will find your girdle." But is there
anything like this in "Joe Miller"?--Two lazy fellows were sleeping
together, when a thief came, and drawing down the coverlet made off with
it. One of them was aware of the theft, and said to the other, "Get up,
and run after the man that has stolen our coverlet." "You blockhead,"
replied his companion, "wait till he comes back to steal the bolster,
and we two will master him." And has "Joe" got this one?--A pedant's
little boy having died, many friends came to the funeral, on seeing whom
he said, "I am ashamed to bring out so small a boy to so great a crowd."
An epigram in the _Anthologia_ may find a place among noodle
stories:
"A blockhead, bit by fleas, put out the light,
And, chuckling, cried, 'Now you can't see to bite!'"
This ancient jest has been somewhat improved in later times. Two
Irishmen in the East Indies, being sorely pestered with mosquitoes, kept
their light burning in hopes of scaring them off, but finding this did
not answer, one suggested they should extinguish the light and thus
puzzle their tormentors to find them, which was done. Presently the
other, observing the light of a firefly in the room, called to his
bedfellow, "Arrah, Mike, sure your plan's no good, for, bedad, here's
one of them looking for us wid a lantern!"
Our specimens may be now concluded with what is probably the best of the
old Greek jokes. The father of a man of Cumæ having died at Alexandria,
the son dutifully took the body to the embalmers. When he returned at
the appointed time to fetch it away, there happened to be a number of
bodies in the same place, so he was asked if his father had any
peculiarity by which his body might be recognised, and the wittol
replied, "He had a cough."
[Illustration]
FOOTNOTES:
[1] Etienne Tabourot, the author of this amusing little book,
who was born at Dijon in 1549 and died in 1590, is said to have written
the tales in ridicule of the inhabitants of Franche Comte, who were then
the subjects of Spain, and reputed to be stupid and illiterate. From a
manuscript translation, entitled _Bizarrures; or, The Pleasant and
Witlesse and Simple Speeches of the Lord Gaulard of Burgundy_,
purporting to be made by "J.B., of Charterhouse," probably about the
year 1660, in the possession of Mr. Frederick William Cosens, London,
fifty copies, edited, with a preface, by "A.S." (Alexander Smith), were
printed at Glasgow in 1884. I am indebted to the courtesy of my friend
Mr. F.T. Barrett, Librarian of the Mitchell Library, Glasgow, for
directing my attention to this curious work, a copy of which is among
the treasures of that already important institution.
[2] "_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 vp
and garbled at the request of John Garrett's Ghost." (1635)--such is the
elaborate title of the collection of jests made by John Taylor, the
Water Poet, which owes very little to preceding English jest-books. The
above story had, however, been told previously in the _Bizarrures_
of the Sieur Gaulard: "His cousine Dantressesa reproued him one day that
she had found him sleeping in an ill posture with his mouth open, to
order which for the tyme to come he commanded his seruant to hang a
looking glasse upon the curtaine at his Bed's feet, that he might
henceforth see if he had a good posture in his sleep."
[3] Only a Liliputian steamer could go up the "river" Cart!
[4] "Seestu" is a nickname for Paisley, the good folks of that busy town
being in the habit of frequently interjecting, "Seestu?"--_i.e.,_
"Seest thou?"--in their familiar colloquies.
[5] "Tory" is said to be the Erse term for a robber.
[6] Halliwell's _Nursery Rhymes of England_, vol. iv. of Percy
Society's publications.