HOW SIR ASINUS INVENTED A NEW ORDER OF PHILOSOPHERS, THE APICIANS.
Sir Asinus was clad as usual in a rich suit of silk, over which fell
in graceful folds his old faded dressing gown. His red hair was
unpowdered--his garters were unbuckled, and one of them had fallen to
the floor--his feet were lazily thrust into ample slippers run down
deplorably at the heel.
He had been meditating strictly the unwilling muse; for on the table
lay a number of sheets of paper covered with unfortunate verses, which
obstinately refused to rhyme. He seemed to have finally abandoned this
occupation in despair--flying for refuge to his window, from which he
had seen his friend coming down Gloucester street.
When Jacques entered, he retained his seat with an appearance of great
carelessness, and extending two fingers negligently, drawled out:
"Good day, my boy. You perceive I have banished those ignoble fears of
proctors. I no longer shiver when I hear a footstep on the staircase."
Jacques smiled languidly.
"Only when you hear it on the portico--at Shadynook or elsewhere," he
said.
"No more of that, Hal, an thou lovest me," said Sir Asinus cheerfully.
"The greatest men are subject to these sudden panics, and I am no
exception. Ah! what news?"
Jacques sat down sighing.
"None," he said, "except that we have a new student at
college--Hoffland is his name, I believe--a friend of Mowbray's
apparently. Let's see your bad verses."
"No, no!" cried Sir Asinus, rolling them up. "_Minerva was invited_,
as our friend Page used to say, but did not attend."
"That reminds me of the ball."
"At the 'Raleigh?'"
"Yes," sighed Jacques.
"This week, eh?"
"Yes; and every body is discussing it. It will be held in the
_Apollo_----"
"A capital room."
"For a ball--yes."
"For any thing--a meeting of conspirators, or patriots, which might
amount to the same thing," said Sir Asinus.
"Well, will your knightship attend the ball?"
"Of course."
"Pray, with whom!"
"Belle-bouche."
Jacques smiled with melancholy triumph.
"I think you are mistaken," he said, sadly.
"How?"
"She has engaged to go with me."
"Base stratagem--unfaithful friend! I challenge you on the spot."
"Good! I accept."
"Take your foil!" cried Sir Asinus, starting up.
"Pardon me, most worthy knight--hand it to me. I can easily prick you
without rising."
Sir Asinus relented.
"Well, let us defer the combat," he said; "but when were you at
Shadynook--which, by the by, should be called Sunnybower?"
"Yesterday!"
"And maligned me?"
"Very well--war to the death in future. What news there?"
"Philippa is gone."
"Ah?"
"Yes; she suddenly announced her intention some days ago, and with a
nod to me, drove off in her chariot."
"A fine girl."
"Why don't you court her, if you admire her so much?"
"My friend," said Sir Asinus, "you seem not to understand that I am
'tangled by the hair and fettered by the eye' of Belle-bouche the
fairy."
Jacques sighed.
"Then I flatter myself she likes me," said Sir Asinus, caressing his
red whiskers in embryo. "I am in fact pledged exclusively to her. I
can't espouse both."
"Vanity!" said Jacques languidly; "but you could build a feudal
castle--a very palace--in the mountains with Philippa's money."
"There you are, with your temptations--try to seduce me, a republican,
into courtly extravagance--me, a martyr to religious toleration,
republican ideas, and the rights of woman!"
"Very well, Sir Asinus, I won't tempt you further; but I think it
would be cheap for you to marry on any terms--if only to extricate
yourself from your present difficulties. Once married, you would of
course leave college."
"Yes; but I wish to remain."
"What! in this attic?"
"Even so."
"A hermit?"
"Who said I was a hermit? I am surrounded with friends! Ned Carter
comes and smokes with me until my room is one impervious fog, all the
while protesting undying friendship, and asking me to write love
verses for him. Tom Randolph is a faithful friend and companion. Stay,
look at that beautiful suit of Mecklenburg silk which Belle-bouche
admired so much--I saw she did. Tom gave me that--in return for my new
suit of embroidered cloth. Who says human nature is not
disinterested?"
"Cynic!"
"Yes, I would be, were I not a Stoic."
"You are neither--you are an Epicurean."
"Granted: I am even an Apician."
"What's that? Who was Apicius?"
"There, now, you are shockingly ignorant; you really don't know what
_apis_ means in Sanscrit--bah!"
"In Sanscrit? True; but in Latin it is--"
"Bee: I'll help you out."
"Very well, you are an _Apician_, you say: expound."
"Why! do I not admire Belle-bouche?"
"I believe so."
"Pretty mouth--that is the translation?"
"Yes."
"A mouth like Suckling's lady-love's--stay, was it Suckling? Yes: Sir
John. 'Some bee had stung it newly,' you know. Well, Belle-bouche has
honey lips--a beautiful idea--and bees love honey, and I love
Belle-bouche: there's the syllogism, as you tiresome logicians say. Q.
E. D., I am an _Apician_!"
Jacques stands astounded at this gigantic philological joke, to the
great satisfaction of his friend, who caresses his sandy whiskers
with still greater self-appreciation.
"Now call me Sir Asinus any longer, if you dare!" he says; and he
begins chanting from the open book:
"Saltu vincit hinnulos,
Damas et capreolos,
Super dromedarios,
Velox Madianeos!
Dum trahit vehicula
Multa cum sarcinula,
Illius mandibula
Dura terit pabula!"
"Translate now!" cries Sir Asinus, "and bear testimony to my worth."
Jacques takes the book and reads over the Latin; then he extemporizes:
"In running he excels
Doctor Smalls and antelopes;
Swift beyond the camels.
Or Midianitish proctors.
While he drags his dulness
In verse along his pages,
His asinarian jaw-bones
Make havoc with the rhymes!"
Having modestly made this translation, Jacques closes the book and
rises.
Sir Asinus tears his hair, and declares that his friend's ignorance of
Latin is shocking.
"The ordinary plea when the rendering of disputed passages is not to
our taste," says Jacques. "But I must go. By the by, the worthy Doctor
came near seeing you in the Governor's chariot."
"It was more than he dared to recognise me," said Sir Asinus grandly.
"Dared, eh?"
"Certainly; if he had bowed to me, I should have cut his acquaintance.
I would have refused to return his salute. I carefully avoided even
looking at him, to spare his feelings."
"I appreciate your delicacy," said his friend; "you commenced your
system even at Shadynook. Did you win any thing from Fauquier?"
"How did you know we played?"
"Why, returning past midnight, I saw lights."
"Very well--that proved nothing. We did play, however, friend Jacques,
and I lost; which gave his Excellency an opportunity to perform a very
graceful act. But enough. Before you go, tell me whom you were
conversing with just now."
"A maiden," said Jacques.
"No! a perfect fairy."
"See the effect of seclusion! You are getting into such a state of
disgust with your books, that you'll end by espousing Mother Bobbery,
you unfortunate victim of political ideas."
"_I_ disgusted--_I_ tired of my books--_I_ tired, when I have this
glorious song to sing!"
And at the top of his voice Sir Asinus chanted:
"Aurum de Arabia,
Thus et myrrhum de Saba,
Tulit in ecclesia
Virtus asinaria!"
"Excellent dog Latin," said Jacques; "and literally translated it
signifies:
'Gold from the Governor,
Tobacco from the South Side,
Asinarian strategy
Has brought into his chambers.'
That is to say, asinarian strategy has made the attempt."
But Sir Asinus, disregarding these strictures, began to sing the
chorus:
"Hez, Sire Asne, car chantez,
Belle bouche rechignez;
Vous aurez du foin assez,
Et de l'avoine a plantez."
"Good," said Jacques; "that signifies:
Strike up, Sir Asinus,
With your braying mouth;
Never fear for hay,
The crop of oats is ample.'
But on reflection the translation is bad--'belle bouche is not
'braying mouth;' which reminds me that I must take my departure."
"Where are you going, unhappy profaner of ecclesiastical psalmody?"
"To see Belle-bouche," sighed Jacques.
Sir Asinus tore his hair.
"Then I'll go too," he cried.
"I've the last horse at the Raleigh," observed Jacques with
melancholy pleasure. "Good morning, my dear friend. Take care of
yourself."
And leaving Sir Asinus with a polite bow, Jacques went down the
staircase. As for Sir Asinus, in the excess of his rage he sat down
and composed a whole canto of an epic--which luckily has not descended
to our day. The rats preserved humanity.