CHAPTER XXV.

"Mr. Pate made an astonishing speech," said the Professor to Toney and

Tom, the day after the trial; "such a speech as has been seldom listened

to by any audience,--a speech that was unanswerable by argument."

"And Toney knew it," said Tom, "and did not attempt to answer it by

argument."

"Toney," said the Professor, "was like a wild Indian, dodging around and

aiming his arrows at Pate, who had come on the ground with a heavy piece

of artillery."

"Why do you compare me to a savage?" said Toney.

"Because you use merciless weapons," said the Professor. "Civilized men

do not employ the scalping-knife and tomahawk."

"Nor did I," said Toney.

"Figuratively and metaphorically speaking, you did," said the Professor.

"You brought into the field of forensic controversy a most barbarous and

cruel weapon."

"What was that?" asked Toney.

"Ridicule," said the Professor. "It may be termed the oratorical

scalping-knife. Why, sir, Demosthenes, with all his thunder, would have

been powerless against it. Now, M. T. Pate, though not equal to the

great Athenian, is an eloquent man. He drew tears from Mr. Seddon, who

wept profusely over the wrongs of Simon Rump, and his venerable wife,

and innocent little ones. But of what avail is the most touching pathos

and sublime eloquence when met by ridicule? Do you not recollect what

the poet and philosopher Pope says on this subject?"

"I do not," said Toney.

"Let an ambassador," says he, "speak the best sense in the world and

deport himself in the most graceful manner before a prince, yet if the

tail of his shirt happen (as I have known it to happen to a very wise

man) to hang out behind, more people will laugh at that than attend to

the other."

"That is as true as a text from Holy Writ," said Tom Seddon.

"It is a truth, Mr. Seddon, by no means creditable to the good sense of

mankind, as we have seen in the case of the learned, eloquent, but

unlucky M. T. Pate," said the Professor. "Pate's unfortunate allusion to

the prospective division of families, resulting from the construction of

the canal, afforded an opportunity for ridicule, and the great beauty

and eloquence of his speech were lost sight of the very moment the

audience beheld Tony Belton's finger pointing to the visible protrusion

of his nether garment."

"Pate rode away at a terrific speed," said Seddon. "I have not heard of

him since. If he has unfortunately broken his neck, Toney Belton will be

answerable for the awful catastrophe."

"No responsibility can possibly attach to me," said Toney. "You are

entirely mistaken in reference to the cause of his abrupt departure. Mr.

Pate had promised to make a speech in behalf of Simon Rump. He did make

a speech, and then, looking at his watch, he hurried away; for he had

more important business on hand than any which lawyers have to transact.

He was to preside at a committee. The hour for its meeting had nearly

arrived, and hence he was compelled to make a liberal use of whip and

spur."

"A committee!" exclaimed Tom.

"What committee?" asked the Professor.

"A committee composed of several of the most distinguished members of

the Mystic Order of Seven Sweethearts," said Toney.

"What is its object?" asked the Professor.

"A tournament," said Toney.

"A what?" exclaimed Seddon.

"A tournament," said Toney. "To M. T. Pate belongs the distinguished

honor of being the originator of a tournament in this age and country."

"How did such an extraordinary idea ever enter his head?" said Seddon.

"Great men," said Toney, "are often led to important discoveries by

certain phenomena, which, to ordinary minds, are devoid of significance.

Suppose you, Tom Seddon, had been sitting under an apple-tree, instead

of Newton, and an apple had fallen and hit you on the head; what would

you have done?"

"Scratched my cocoanut," said Tom.

"In the situation supposed," said the Professor, "it is highly probable

that Mr. Seddon would first have vigorously titillated the top of his

head, and then picked up the pippin and devoured it."

"It was not so with the great Newton," said Toney. "The sudden shock

which his cranium received awakened an idea, and that idea expanded into

a magnificent system of philosophy. And so it was with M. T. Pate."

"Did Pate sit under an apple-tree?" asked Tom.

"No," said Toney; "it was a cherry-tree. He was seated on the greensward

under its shade, when his attention was attracted to the curious pranks

of a couple of urchins. They had paper caps on their heads with the

tail-feathers of a rooster stuck in their crowns. Pate heard one of the

little fellows say, 'I'll be Bonaparte,' and his companion immediately

rejoined that he was Wellington. The illustrious Napoleon was armed with

a bean-pole, and the Iron Duke held in his hand the fragment of a

fishing-rod. After marching and countermarching, and performing many

difficult evolutions, the martial enthusiasm of Napoleon finally rose to

such a pitch that he could no longer restrain himself. As impetuously as

when he was leading his valiant legions over the bridge of Lodi, he

charged upon Wellington, and, before the latter could parry the thrust,

inserted the end of the bean-pole in his mouth, to the no small damage

of his ivory. The hero of Waterloo having his mouth thus unexpectedly

opened, gave utterance to a cry which was, by no means, so warlike as

might have been anticipated. It had the effect to bring a certain

belligerent dame to the door, who had thus got an intimation that

hostilities had actually commenced between Bonaparte and Wellington. She

sallied forth, and seizing upon the illustrious Napoleon, she laid him

over her lap, and gave him what, in the technical phraseology of the

nursery, is termed a good spanking. Poor Bonaparte bellowed lustily

under the operation, and as soon as he had escaped from the hands of his

ruthless captor, went and sat on the sill of the door and sobbed

sorrowfully over his disgrace. All his martial enthusiasm had been

suddenly quenched. 'No sound could awake him to glory again,' and for

the space of one whole hour he indignantly refused to eat even

gingerbread."

"I can sympathize with poor Bonaparte," said the Professor, "for I was

once the unhappy victim of a similar misfortune in days gone by, when I

was not much taller than a gooseberry-bush. I had been diligently

perusing that good old book, the Pilgrim's Progress, and under the

delusion that I was the valiant Great-heart, I assaulted an urchin who

was supposed to be Giant Despair. I overcame the giant, and was

imprisoned in the pantry, and afterwards tried, and convicted, and

sentenced to undergo the cruel ordeal of a tough twig for a forcible

entry into sundry jars of jelly. But what impression did the fall of

Napoleon make upon the mind of M. T. Pate?"

"While meditating upon this event, an idea entered his head, which

ultimately led to an important discovery. His wonderful sagacity enabled

him to perceive that if a little boy could be Bonaparte, a little man

might impersonate any hero of whom history makes mention."

"Even Jack the Giant-killer," suggested Tom Seddon.

"If," said Toney, "the unlucky urchin, who had been spanked by his

indignant mamma, could arm himself with a bean-pole, and assault Lord

Wellington with such vigor and impetuosity, could not a number of

delicate and dainty youths be mounted on diminutive horses, and

represent Richard the Lion-hearted, or Ivanhoe, or any of the

mail-covered barons whose valorous deeds are immortalized in the pages

of Froissart or of Walter Scott?"

"Is it meant that the Dainty Adorer or the Winsome Wooer could do this?"

asked Tom Seddon.

"So thought M. T. Pate," said Toney.

"What would be the effect of a moderate blow from the ponderous fist of

one of the aforesaid barons on the head of little Love?" inquired Tom.

"Immediate work for the undertaker," answered the Professor.

"Or suppose," said Tom, "that Dove was spanked by Richard, as was the

little boy by his mother?"

"He would be crushed like a pepper-corn pounded by a pestle in a

mortar," remarked the Professor.

"And," said Seddon, "the immense load of iron and steel carried by one

of the knights at the tournament of Ashby-de-la-Zouch, where three

combatants were killed, one smothered in his armor, and thirty wounded,

if put upon Bliss----"

"Would cause the dainty creature to think of Pelion piled upon Ossa,"

observed the Professor.

"But," said Toney, "Pate was well acquainted with the wonder-working

powers of the imagination, and knew that with the aid of this faculty he

could easily induce young maidens, who were diligent students of

romance, to believe that the Noble Nonentity, the Dainty Adorer, and the

Winsome Wooer, mounted on ponies, and flourishing long poles, were

valorous knights, armed for the performance of doughty deeds; just as

the unsophisticated birds are made to imagine that the effigies placed

by a farmer around his cornfield are the dangerous and destructive

bipeds in whose images they have been cunningly fashioned."

"You now perceive, Mr. Seddon," said the Professor, "in what various

aspects the same subject will be contemplated by different minds. Mr.

Pate is a man of an original and sublime genius, and entertains ideas

which would never enter into either your head or mine."

"But," said Tom, "what did he do with his grand idea?"

"Having thoroughly elaborated it," said Toney, "he called a meeting of

the Mystic Order of Seven Sweethearts and made known his important

discovery. The announcement was received with acclamations of applause,

and the projected tournament pronounced worthy of the illustrious

founder of their noble order. A committee was appointed, composed of the

Prince of Pretty Fellows, the Noble Nonentity, the Dainty Adorer, and

the Winsome Wooer, with the Noble Grand Gander himself as chairman; and

upon this dignified body was devolved the onerous duty of developing all

the details of the intended tourney. Numerous meetings were held by the

committee, and many discussions ensued. Books of chivalry and romance

were referred to, and the Chronicles of Froissart diligently perused.

But by far the highest authority on the subject was the novel of

Ivanhoe, in which the most graphic and intelligible account of a

tournament was to be found. But when Pate read to the committee Walter

Scott's description of the passage of arms at Ashby----"

"I remember it well!" exclaimed Tom Seddon, enthusiastically. "How the

knights met in the encounter,--how the lances were shivered, the

powerful steeds thrown back on their haunches, and many combatants

hurled from their saddles by the terrible shock,--how Richard assailed

the gigantic Front de Boeuf, and struck down horse and rider at a

single blow, and then, wresting the battle-axe from the hands of the

bulky Athelstane, dashed him senseless to the ground! It is sublime! it

is magnificent!"

"What effect did the reading of this description by Walter Scott, which

has so aroused the enthusiasm of Mr. Seddon, produce on the committee?"

asked the Professor.

"Every member of the committee turned pale," said Toney. "Bliss trembled

and was silent; while Love loudly exclaimed that he would not take part

in any such performance, and Dove said that indeed it was too

dangerous."

"But the ultimate result?" said the Professor.

"The panic produced by the reading of this passage from Ivanhoe was so

great," said Toney, "that it nearly caused an abandonment of their

intention to hold a tournament. The committee adjourned to meet on the

following day for further deliberation. M. T. Pate went home and passed

a sleepless night in profound meditation."

"One might suppose," said the Professor, "that the activity of his mind

would have enabled him to surmount the difficulty which had presented

itself. Could he not recollect that in the encounter between Napoleon

and Wellington, neither of them had used artillery or any of the deadly

weapons employed in modern warfare? If these illustrious heroes could

dispense with fire-arms, why could not Richard and Ivanhoe get along

very well without their heavy defensive armor and ponderous swords and

battle-axes?"

"That was precisely the conclusion arrived at by M. T. Pate in his

nocturnal meditations," said Toney. "He perceived that the whole danger

of a tournament might be avoided by mounting his knights on small

horses, with chicken-feathers in their caps, and long poles in their

hands; when, instead of charging at each other, they could, in

succession, charge at a mark in the shape of a ring; and he who was the

most expert in thrusting his pole through the ring, could be proclaimed

the victorious champion, entitled to crown the Queen of Love and

Beauty."

"It is to be hoped," said the Professor, "that this grand idea entered

the mind of M. T. Pate cautiously and on tiptoe. If it rushed in

unannounced, like a daring intruder, there was danger of its upsetting

all the furniture, and disturbing him as much as was Archimedes when he

leaped out of the bath exclaiming, 'Eureka! eureka!'"

"Pate jumped out of bed," said Toney, "and danced over the floor,

exclaiming, 'I have got it! I have got it!' His old housekeeper, who had

been fast asleep in an adjoining apartment, was aroused by these loud

cries, and thinking that there were robbers in the house, ran to the

window and commenced shrieking, 'Help! help! help! murder! murder!

murder!' with the whole strength of her lungs."

"Now, here was a fuss in the family," said Seddon. "What did Pate do to

quell this disturbance?"

"He called to her in loud and angry tones, and ordered her to cease her

frightful outcries. But the more loudly he called, the more loudly the

old woman bawled, and finally four or five neighbors came running to the

house armed with axes and pitchforks. These men, hearing the cries of

murder from the old woman, and Pate's angry voice in denunciation, under

the impression that the latter had gone crazy and was about to commit a

homicide, broke down the door, and, rushing in, seized him and threw him

upon the floor, and bound him fast with the bedcords. The housekeeper,

when she heard the men rushing into the house, was convinced that

robbers had possession; and, in the utmost terror, the poor creature

fled down a back stairway and out the door, and ran across a field until

she entered a forest, where she fell down in a state of insensibility."

"But what did the men do with their prisoner?" said Seddon.

"Pate being bound with cords now conducted himself like a furious

maniac. He raved, and swore, and kicked, and foamed at the mouth, and

endeavored to bite his captors with his teeth. But he was held down on

the floor by two stalwart farmers, while the others consulted together;

and the unanimous opinion was that so dangerous and murderous a lunatic

should be immediately confined in a hospital. A horse was harnessed to a

cart, and they put Pate, securely bound with cords, in the bottom of the

vehicle, and while one drove, the others walked alongside, with their

axes and pitchforks on their shoulders, and thus conveyed him to a

lunatic asylum situated a few miles from Mapleton."

"It is under the superintendence of Dr. Mowbray," said Seddon. "I know

him well."

"Dr. Mowbray was awakened by the farmers loudly calling at the door.

'What do you want?' said he, putting his head out the window.

"'We've got a crazy man here,' said Farmer Brown, 'and want to get him

off our hands. Come down, doctor, and take him in.'

"The doctor dressed himself and came down. 'Here he is,' said Farmer

Jones. 'He is as mad as the moon can make a man!'

"'I am not mad! I am not mad!' exclaimed Pate, in the bottom of the

cart.

"'He is talking poetry,' said Brown. 'I heard my little boy speak that

at school.'

"'My men,' said the doctor, 'whom have you got here? Why, it is Mr.

Pate! When did he go mad?'

"'I am not mad! I am not mad!' piteously exclaimed poor Pate.

"'Don't you hear that, doctor?' said Jones. 'He is as crazy as an old

cow with a wolf in her back!'

"'Who sent him here?' asked the doctor.

"The farmers now told their story.

"'My men,' said the doctor, 'I fear that you have acted without

sufficient authority. Let me talk to Mr. Pate.'

"After a conversation with the unhappy captive, the doctor told his

captors that they had better go home and attend to their own business;

that Pate was not crazy, and might have every one of them prosecuted for

a burglarious entry into his house in the night-time. When the farmers

heard this they fled with precipitation, leaving their captive in the

hands of the doctor, who unbound him and treated him kindly, and, after

breakfast, loaned him a horse, on which he rode back to his home."

"What did Pate do after he was declared sane by the doctor and released

from captivity?" asked the Professor.

"He proceeded with his preparations for the tournament," said Toney.

"His views in relation to tilting at a ring were unanimously approved by

the committee; though the Noble Nonentity suggested, that as the weather

would be very sultry, each knight should be allowed to carry an umbrella

to protect himself from the heat of the sun. This prudent suggestion,

intended to guard against the danger of _coup de soleil_, is still under

consideration, and is a matter yet to be decided by the committee, to

meet which was the cause of Pate's hurried departure on yesterday."

"When does the tournament come off?" asked Tom Seddon.

"Next Monday," said Toney. "Tom, you must be here on that day."

"I most certainly will," said Tom.

"And I, too," said the Professor.

"Are you going back with Tom?" asked Toney.

"I intend to return to Bella Vista for the purpose of protecting Mr.

Seddon from Dr. Bull, if that eminent physician should undertake to make

any more experiments in phlebotomy," said the Professor. "But I will be

here on the day of the tourney. Good-by, Toney."

"Good-by, Charley; good-by, Tom," said Toney, shaking hands with his two

friends, who proceeded to the cars, and took passage for Bella Vista.

The Funny Philosophers, or Wags and Sweethearts. A Novel · 第 25 / 54 章