_The Greek Lexicographers_
Dr. Henry Liddell, who had become celebrated by his Greek lexicon, was
at one time headmaster of Westminster. One day he required the boys in
his class to write an English epigram, each to choose his own subject.
Among those that were handed in was the following:
Two men wrote a lexicon,
Liddell and Scott;
One-half was clever,
And one-half was not.
Give me the answer, boys,
Quick to this riddle,
Which was by Scott,
And which was by Liddell?
Dr. Liddell, on receiving it, only said, “I think you are rather
severe.”
_The Religion of Wise Men_
John Toland, in his “Clidophorus” (key-bearer), relates an incident
which he was told by a near relation of old Lord Shaftesbury. The latter
conferring one day with Major Wildman about the many sects of religion
in the world, they came to the conclusion at last that notwithstanding
the infinite divisions caused by the interest of the priests and the
ignorance of the people, _all wise men are of the same religion_;
whereupon a lady in the room demanded with some concern what that
religion was? To whom the Lord Shaftesbury straight replied, “Madam,
wise men never tell.”
_A Deceiver_
When Johnny was questioned as to why his engagement with Miss H. had
been broken off, he rolled his eyes, looked very much pained, and
groaned, “Oh, she turned out a deceiver.” But he forgot to mention that
he was the deceiver whom she had turned out.
_An Acknowledgment_
Richard Brinsley Sheridan, the author of “The School for Scandal,” had a
very ingenious manner of answering applicants for literary notice at his
hands. He generally wrote, “I have received your book and no doubt shall
be delighted after I have read it.” But whether he meant satisfaction
with the volume or satisfaction at the close of a tedious task was what
no one could find out.
_An Artful Dodger_
When Talleyrand was Minister for Foreign Affairs, and there was a report
in Paris of the death of George III., a banker, full of speculative
anxieties, asked him if it was true. “Some say,” he replied, “that the
King of England is dead; others say that he is not dead; but do you wish
to know my opinion?” “Most anxiously, Prince.” “Well, then, I believe
neither. I mention this in confidence to you; but I rely on your
discretion: the slightest imprudence on your part would compromise me
most seriously.”
On another occasion, when Talleyrand sat at dinner between Madame de
Staël and Madame Récamier, the celebrated beauty, Madame de Staël, whose
beauties were certainly not those of the person, jealous of his
attentions to her rival, insisted upon knowing which he would save if
they were both drowning. After seeking in vain to evade her, he at last
turned toward her and said, with his usual shrug, “Ah, madame, _vous
savez nager_” (you know how to swim).
_Rouge_
St. Francis de Sales being consulted by a lady on the lawfulness of
wearing rouge, replied, “Some persons may object to it, and others may
see no harm in it, but I shall take a middle course, by allowing you to
rouge on _one_ cheek.”
_A Difference_
A judge, reprimanding a criminal, called him a scoundrel. The prisoner,
“Sir, I am not as big a scoundrel as your honor”—here the culprit
stopped, but finally added—“takes me to be.” “Put your words closer
together,” said the judge.
_Which?_
A certain lawyer was compelled to apologize to the court. With stately
dignity he rose in his place and said, “Your Honor is right and I am
wrong, as your Honor generally is.” There was a dazed look in the
judge’s eye, and he hardly knew whether to feel happy or fine the lawyer
for contempt of court.
_Divine Service_
A lady who greatly admired Dr. Chalmers’s preaching, and was much
addicted to pursuing popular orators, sent him her compliments one
Sunday morning and begged to know if he intended to preach that day at
St. George’s. The worthy doctor answered, “Tell Lady —— that there
certainly is to be Divine Service in St. George’s Church to-day.”
_Doubtful Compliment_
At a printers’ festival the following toast was offered: “Woman! second
only to the press in the dissemination of news.” The ladies are yet
undecided whether to regard this as a compliment or otherwise.
_King or Pretender?_
The following epigram, though popularly attributed to Jonathan Swift at
the time it appeared, was written by John Byron. On one occasion, during
the rising of 1745, when Manchester had eagerly embraced the cause of
Prince Charles, Byron, in a mixed company, being asked to drink the
king’s health, cautiously replied,—
God bless the King! I mean our faith’s defender;
God bless—no harm in blessing—the Pretender;
But who Pretender is, or who is King,—
God bless us all! that’s quite another thing.
_A Legal Question_
In the Greek Anthology we are told of an unhappy man who went to
Diodorus for advice and instruction about the children of a female
slave. The following metrical version of the case is by Merivale:
A plaintiff thus explained his cause
To counsel learned in the laws.
“My bond-maid lately ran away,
And in her flight was met by A,
Who, knowing she belonged to me,
Espoused her to his servant B.
The issue of this marriage, pray,
Do they belong to me or A?”
The lawyer, true to his vocation,
Gave signs of deepest cogitation;
Looked at a score of books, or near,
Then hemmed and said, “Your case is clear.
Those children, so begot by B
Upon your bond-maid, must, you see,
Be yours or A’s. Now this, I say,
They can’t be yours, if they to A
Belong. It follows then, of course,
That if they are not his, they’re yours.
Therefore, by my advice, in short,
You take the opinion of the Court.”
_A Judge Like Solomon_
Two cows went astray at Newport News, Virginia. One belonged to a negro,
and the other to a white man named Shields. A cow answering the
description of either of the two animals was purchased by a farmer not
long after. The bereaved men heard of the purchase, and each claimed the
animal and presented proof equally convincing. The case came up before a
judge and the jury heard the evidence, but as the witnesses for each
party described the same cow, they were unable to give a decision. Then
the judge said he would turn the cow out on the green. If she went
toward the negro’s farm she should be his, if she went toward Shields’s
farm she should be his. The cow was turned out, but she found the grass
so satisfying that she went neither way.
_The Butchers_
When Napoleon I. came, after a series of victories, to visit annexed
Belgium, he found, on entering Ghent, a triumphal arch erected by the
guild of butchers, inscribed: “The little butchers of Ghent to Napoleon
the great” (butcher). The deacon of the guild had asked a clever
nobleman (who loathed Napoleon) to write the inscription, the sarcasm in
which the worthy deacon did not detect.
_Meeting the Difficulty_
Merivale tells a story of a Quaker who lived in a country town in
England. He was rich and benevolent, and always responsive to appeals
for purposes of local charity and usefulness. The townspeople wanted to
rebuild their parish church, which was falling into decay, and a
committee was appointed to raise the funds. It was agreed that the
Friend could not be asked to subscribe towards an object so contrary to
his principles; but then, on the other hand, so true and public-spirited
a friend to the town might take it amiss if he was not at least
consulted on a matter of such general interest. So one of their number
went and explained to him their project; the old church was to be
removed, and such and such steps were to be taken towards the
construction of a new one.
“Thee is right,” said the Quaker, “in supposing that my principles would
not allow me to assist in building a church. But did thee not say
something about pulling down a church? Thee may put my name down for a
hundred pounds.”
_A Tough Witness_
Not even a lawyer, however skilful in cross-examination, can make a
witness tell the truth, provided the witness wishes to evade it. It is
impossible to put the question in such exact language that it will
demand the desired answer. It was necessary, on a certain occasion in
court, to compel a witness to testify as to the way in which a Mr. Smith
treated his horse. “Well, sir,” said the lawyer, with a sweet and
winning smile—a smile intended to drown all suspicion as to the ulterior
purposes—“how does Mr. Smith generally ride a horse?” The witness looked
up innocently and replied: “Generally a-straddle, sir, I believe.” The
lawyer asked again: “But, sir, what gait does he ride?” The
imperturbable witness answered, “He never rides any gate at all, sir;
but I’ve seen his boys ride every gate on the farm.” The lawyer saw he
was on the track of a Tartar, and his next question was very
insinuating. “How does Mr. Smith ride when he is in company with others?
I demand a clear answer.” “Well, sir,” said the witness, “he keeps up
with the rest if his horse is able to, or if not he falls behind.” The
lawyer by this time was almost beside himself, and asked: “And how does
he ride when he is alone?” “I don’t know,” was the reply, “I never was
with him when he was alone,” and there the case dropped.
_Shifting Responsibility_
There is something of the shrewd humor of the Oriental cadi, says the
_Pall Mall Gazette_, in the decision of a Russian stipendiary
magistrate, a report of which comes from Odessa. It appears that a new
cemetery was about to be opened near that city, and that two Greek
merchants, each anxious to secure the most comfortable or most
distinguished resting-place, were allowed by some official blunder to
buy the same allotment. When the mistake was discovered neither would
yield his claim, and the matter was referred to the district judge.
Greek had met Greek, and the tug of war threatened to be severe, when
the magistrate, with an astuteness worthy of Solomon, arranged the
matter in the simplest way possible, by applying the rule, “First come,
first served,” and suggesting that whichever died first should have the
right to the coveted resting-place. The parties went away reconciled and
happy. It is not stated whether they had to find sureties to guarantee
that neither would take an unfair advantage of the other by committing
suicide.
_Erskine’s Pleasantry_
Lord Erskine was in the habit of making a very effective pause in all
letters replying to solicitation for subscriptions. He wrote:
“Sir: I feel much honored by your application to me, and I beg to
subscribe”—here the reader had to turn over the leaf—“myself your very
obedient servant,” etc. One of the best instances of this form of pause
occurred in a letter received by a popular physician. This gentleman was
pleased with a certain aërated water, and by his recommendations he
managed to secure for it some celebrity. For this he expected neither
reward nor thanks. Imagine his surprise, therefore, when he received one
day from the makers of the aërated water an effusive letter, stating
that his kind recommendations had done so much good that they ventured
to send a hundred—(here the page turned over). “This will never do,”
said the doctor. “It is very kind, but I will never think of accepting
anything.” Here he turned the page and found the sentence ran—“of our
circulars for distribution.”
_Mortuary Word-Play_
Equivocal forms of expression find their way into church-yard
literature, as in the following examples:
Maria Brown, wife of Timothy Brown, aged eighty years. She lived with
her husband fifty years, and died in the confident hope of a better
life.
Here lies Bernard Lightfoot, who was accidentally killed in the
forty-fifth year of his age. This monument was erected by his _grateful_
family.
Here lies —— who died —— aged — years.
The Lord gave, and the Lord hath taken away.
Blessed be the name of the Lord.