common-place attempts at wit consign to contempt. These performers confine
themselves to vulgar and stale jokes. To thrust the head through the paper
window-pane of a cobbler, and ask him the address of a minister of
finances, or an archbishop; to stretch a cord across a staircase, so as to
cause those who descend to take, in the words of a punster, a _voyage sur
la rein_, or 'a voyage upon the Rhine;' to wake up a notary in the middle
of the night, and send him in great haste to draw up a will for a client,
whom he finds in good health; these and a thousand other silly pranks of
the same nature, are the stock in trade of a jester; and no one knew them
better than did Ganguernet.
He had, moreover, invented some original tricks, which had given him a
colossal reputation among the admirers of this branch of the fine arts.
The only truly witty one I ever knew him to perpetrate, took place at a
country-house where a large party of us were assembled. Among the guests,
Ganguernet had singled out a lady of some thirty years, rather fantastic
in her manners and appearance, who was doatingly fond of Parisian
elegance, and who preferred the pale face of a well-looking youth of
rather shallow intellect, to the coarse, purple visage of Ganguernet. Our
humourist endeavored in vain to render this youth ridiculous in the eyes
of the lady, who regarded his simplicity as a poetical absence of mind,
and his credulity as an indication of sincerity and honest good faith. One
evening, after a brisk defence of the pale-faced youth on the part of the
lady, which was listened to by Ganguernet with a patience and a peculiar
expression of the eye which boded no good, we had all retired to our
apartments. In about half an hour, the house resounded with loud outcries
of 'fire! fire!' which seemed to proceed from the hall upon the
ground-floor. Every one hastened thither, men and women half-dressed, or
half-undressed, which ever you please. They entered pell-mell, candlestick
in hand, and there found Ganguernet stretched upon a sofa. To the
reiterated questions that were put him as to the cause of the clamor, he
answered not a word; but taking the pale-faced young man by the hand in a
very solemn manner, and leading him up to the fine lady, gravely said to
her: 'I have the honor, Madam, of presenting to you the most poetic genius
of the company in a cotton night-cap.' We all burst into a shout of
laughter, but the lady never forgave Ganguernet, nor the cotton night-cap.
All the jokes which Ganguernet played, however, were not prompted by
vengeance; a spirit of fun merely being the grand principle of most of his
tricks. Before we come to the occurrence which showed this man to me in
his true colors, I must relate a few more of the humorous pranks in which
he took the greatest pride. Opposite his residence at Rennes there dwelt a
worthy pair of venerable citizens, who were the sole occupants of a small
house, which was their only possession. Once a week this honest couple
were in the habit of dining, and having a little game of piquet with a
relation, who resided at some distance from their abode. On these
occasions they were usually regaled with curds and whey, which they
moistened with sparkling cider; and not unfrequently a bowl of punch
concluded the repast; so that the worthy pair commonly returned home about
eleven o'clock, singing and staggering along in a state of happy
elevation.
On a certain fatal Sunday evening, these good folks returned to their
abode, both of them pretty much, 'how came you so.' They arrived at the
door of their next neighbour, which they recognized, and then proceeded on
ten paces farther, which was just the distance to their own door. The
husband, after fumbling in his pocket for the key of the street-door,
pulled it out, and sought the key-hole; but no key-hole was to be found.
'What has become of the key-hole?' cried he. 'You have drank too much
cider, Monsieur Larquet,' said his wife; 'you are looking for the
key-hole, and we are still before the wall of neighbour Bompart.'
'That is true,' replied Monsieur Larquet; 'we must go a few paces
farther.' They walked on; but this time they went too far, for as they had
before recognized the door of their right-hand neighbor, they now found
themselves in front of that of their neighbor on the left hand. Their own
door ought to be between these two doors. They return, groping along the
wall until they come to a door, which to their consternation they again
find to be that of their right-hand neighbor! The honest couple become
alarmed about the soundness of their wits, and begin to suspect that they
must certainly both be tipsy. They recommence their inspections from the
door of their neighbor on the right, and again come to the door of their
neighbor on the left. They constantly find these two doors, but not a
vestige of their own: their door has disappeared--vanished! Who could have
taken away their door? Terror seizes them; they ask each other if they
have become demented; and dreading the ridicule which would be cast upon
honest citizens who could not find their own street-door, they grope about
for more than an hour, feeling, poking, inspecting, measuring; but alas!
there is no door; there is nothing but a wall, an unknown wall, an
implacable wall, a desperate wall! At length, terror completely overpowers
them; they utter loud cries, and call lustily for assistance. The
neighbors are attracted by the noise, and after some time, it is
ascertained that the door of the distracted couple has been carefully
bricked up, and plastered over; and when all are trying to discover who
could have played such a pitiful trick upon these honest people,
Ganguernet, who from an opposite window, in company with some kindred
spirits, had been enjoying the tribulation and despair of Monsieur and
Madame Larquet, Ganguernet shouts out his everlasting refrain: 'A capital
joke!' But, answered the neighbors, these poor folks will take their death
of cold.
'Bah!' replies he; 'a capital joke!'
The incensed neighbors petitioned the king's attorney to moderate Monsieur
Ganguernet's strong inclination to play his mischievous pranks; and the
magistrate sent our hero to prison for some days, in spite of his skilful
defence, which consisted in incessantly repeating: 'A capital joke!--what
a capital joke, Mr. Magistrate!'
Notwithstanding his excessive vanity, Ganguernet did not, however, make
boast of all his exploits; and there was one, the authorship of which he
constantly denied, possibly in consequence of a threat that was held out
of cutting off the author's ears, should he be detected. The trick in
question was prompted by the contempt in which he was held in a certain
aristocratic circle; and the subject was no less a personage than an
ancient dame of high birth, and great pretensions, who mingled in the most
fashionable society of Rennes.
Among other customs of the old school, which this lady retained, were the
following: First, that of never mixing in the society of those of plebeian
descent, such as Ganguernet: and secondly; that of always being carried in
a sedan-chair by porters, when she went abroad. One evening she went to a
ball, given by the first president of the court of assizes, a ball at
which Ganguernet was also present. She left about midnight, carried as
usual in her sedan-chair through a pelting shower of rain. At the moment
she got under one of those loop-holes in the eaves-gutters, through which
the rain pours down into the street in long dashing cascades, two or three
shrill whistles were heard on the right and left hand. Immediately four
men in masks made their appearance, at sight of whom the porters,
abandoning their charge, took to their heels; but at the moment when the
noble dame believed herself on the point of being assassinated, a terrible
dash of cold water upon her head took away her breath, and almost deprived
her of consciousness. The top of the chair had disappeared as if by magic,
and the gutter poured its contents directly into the vehicle, the occupant
of which in vain attempted to force open the door. She beat and thumped
against it with fury, mounted the seat, and like an incarnate fiend,
invoked the divine wrath upon the vile miscreants, who were giving her
such a cruel shower-bath; and who only replied to her invectives by
profound bows, and the most humble salutations. The worst part of this
wicked trick was, that the lady wore hair-powder, and the mystifiers
carried umbrellas.
My acquaintance with Ganguernet continued about ten years. In the low and
vulgar circles of society which he was fond of frequenting, he was held up
as the most jovial, the best-natured, and the most amusing fellow in the
world; although there were some, whose sense of propriety and moral
feelings were not entirely destroyed, who held him in merited contempt.
For my own part, I always had a dread of the man. That odious smile,
forever hanging on those large red lips, singularly annoyed me; that
imperturbable gayety, exhibited on all occasions of life, troubled me like
the constant presence of a hideous phantom; that phrase, which he appended
like a moral to every thing he did, that detested phrase, 'A capital
joke,' sounded in my ears as doleful and sombre as the Trappists' motto,
'_Brother, we must die_!'
There was a fatality about the man; and it was destined that a life should
be sacrificed to his mad propensity for mischief. A day came, on which his
famous words, 'A capital joke!' was to be pronounced over a tomb.
On the eve of my departure from Rennes, some friends invited me to join a
hunting-party, of which I learned that Ganguernet was to make one. This
name took from me in advance half the pleasure I had anticipated. I
however repaired early in the morning to the house of one of our friends,
Ernest de B----. On my arrival I found Ganguernet there with some others
of the party. Ernest had just finished a letter, which he sealed,
directed, and placed upon the chimney-piece. Ganguernet, in his usual
inquisitive and impertinent manner, took it up, and read the direction.
'Ah ha!' said he; 'so you correspond with your pretty cousin, do you?'
'Yes,' said Ernest, with an air of indifference; 'I have informed her that
we intend visiting her chateau this evening, at about seven o'clock, to
take dinner there. There are fifteen of us I think, and we shall run some
risk of having but poor fare, if she does not get timely notice.'
Ernest rang for a servant, and gave him the letter, without any of us
noticing that Ganguernet disappeared for a moment with him. We set off on
our expedition. While engaged in the chase, it so happened that Ganguernet
and myself took one side of the plain on which we were hunting, while the
rest of the party pursued their sport on the other.
'We shall have some fun this evening,' said he to me.
'How so?' replied I.
'Would you believe it? I have given a louis to the servant that he should
not carry the letter to its address.'
'And have you taken it?'
'No, pardieu! I told him we were going to have a little joke this evening,
and that he must carry the letter to the lady's husband. He is sitting
this moment as president of the court of assizes, and when he finds that
he is going to have fifteen stout fellows, with keen appetites, at his
house this evening, he will be in a devil of a rage. He is as miserly as
Harpagon; and the idea of our laying his kitchen and wine-cellar under
contribution will put him in such a humor, that he will have no scruple in
condemning a dozen innocent men, so that he may reach his country-house in
time to prevent the pillage.'
'If this is the case,' said I to Ganguernet, 'it seems to me to be a very
malicious jest.'
'Bah! a capital joke! And the best of it will be when we all arrive at the
chateau. The others, ravenous with hunger and thirst, will expect to find
there an excellent supper. But there will be nothing--absolutely nothing!'
'And do you think, Sir,' replied I, 'that this will be any pleasanter to
me than to the rest of the party? And you yourself, will you not be one of
the principal dupes of your frolic?'
'Let me alone for that! Look you here; I've got a cold fowl and a bottle
of Bordeaux in my game-bag, and you shall have half.'
'I thank you,' said I, 'but I had rather find Ernest, and notify him of
your trick.'
'Ah! good heavens! my dear Sir,' said Ganguernet, 'you cannot take a
joke.'
I left him, and apprising our friends of the affair, inquired where I
could find Ernest. I was told that he had gone in the direction of the
chateau of his cousin, toward which I proceeded, intending to give Madame
de L---- notice of the trick of Ganguernet. At a turn of the road I
perceived Ernest at a distance, going toward the chateau. I increased my
speed in order to overtake him, and made so much haste that I arrived
almost at the same moment with him, so that he had just passed the gate as
I reached it. As I was about entering, the gate was violently pulled to,
and immediately I heard the report of a pistol, and then a voice cried
out: 'Villain! since I have missed you, defend yourself!'
I hastily sprang to a grating in the wall, about the height of my head,
which opened into the court-yard, and there witnessed a frightful
spectacle. The husband, sword in hand, was attacking Ernest with desperate
fury. 'Ah! you love her and she loves you!' cried he, in a voice hoarse
with passion; 'you love her, do you? and she loves you! Your turn first,
and then hers!'
The letter from Ernest to his cousin, conveyed by the malicious
interference of Ganguernet to her husband, had apprised him of a secret
which had remained hidden for more than four years; and before redressing
the wrongs of society as a magistrate, the president of the court had
hastened to avenge his own as a husband.
In vain I cried, in vain I called by name the two cousins. Monsieur de
L---- with blind fury drove Ernest from one corner of the court to
another. Suddenly a window opened, and Madame de L----, pale, with
dishevelled hair, and terror painted on her countenance, appeared.
'Leonie!' cried Ernest, 'withdraw!'
'No! let her remain!' exclaimed Monsieur de L----, 'she is a prisoner; you
need not fear that she will come to separate us.' And he again rushed upon
his cousin with such fury that the fire flew from their swords.
'It is I--it is _I_ who deserve death!' cried Madame de L----; 'kill
_me_!'
I added my cries to theirs. I shouted, I shook the grating. I tried to
scale the wall, when suddenly, urged on by despair, bewildered,
distracted, Madame de L---- threw herself from the window and fell between
her lover and her husband. The latter, completely beside himself with
passion, directed his sword toward her. But Ernest turned it aside, and in
his turn casting off all restraint, exclaimed with vehemence: 'Madman!
would you kill her? Well, then--defend yourself!' And immediately he
commenced a violent assault upon his antagonist.
I could do nothing to separate them; neither could Madame de L----. The
unfortunate woman had broken a limb in the fall, and lay groaning upon the
pavement. It was a dreadful combat. Nothing can express the violent terror
which seized me. Already the blood of the two cousins began to flow, which
only served to increase their rage. I had succeeded with some difficulty
in climbing to the top of the wall, and was about to leap into the court,
when I perceived some of our friends approaching. Ganguernet was at their
head; he drew near, calling to me:
'Halloo! what's this? Why, you bawl like a man getting flayed; we heard
you a quarter of a league off. What the devil is the matter?'
At the sight of this detested wretch, I rushed upon him, seized him by the
throat, and forcing him violently against the grating, I cried to him in
my turn: 'Look there, miserable jester!--'a capital joke!' is it not?--a
'capital joke!''
Monsieur de L----, pierced through the heart by a plunge of his
antagonist's sword, was lying by the side of his wife.
Ernest has left France to die in a foreign land. Madame de L---- committed
suicide the day after this horrible duel.
'A CAPITAL JOKE!'
APOSTROPHE TO AN OLD HAT.
BY JOHN G. SAXE.
COME forth, Old Hat! I'll pluck thee from the ditch,
Where thou hadst well nigh found a grave, 'unwept,
Unhonor'd and unsung.' I'll rescue thee
A moment longer from oblivion,
Albeit thou art old, bereaved of rim,
And like a prince dethroned, no more canst boast
A crown!
Would thou couldst talk! I'd e'en consent
That thou shouldst steal my prating grandame's tongue,
And so procure her silence and thy history.
Time-worn, adust, degraded as thou art,
Thine ancient quality doth still appear;
And this fine web, malgré thy present mien,
(A batter'd cylinder of dingy brown,)
Proclaims that once, some dozen years ago,
Thou wert a good and fashionable hat.
Perchance thou first wert perch'd right jauntily
A-top some dandy's poll; a most convenient block
To keep thee in good shape, and serve beside
One purpose more--to advertise thy brethren.
Mayhap a lawyer, in thy pristine years
And his, with thy possession much enhanced
His meagre sum of personal estate;
And, in phrase professional, call'd thee 'chattel'--
A vile distinction for a beaver hat!
A lawyer's hat!--alack! what teeming store-house oft
Of mischiefs dire; ill-boding parchment; 'writs,'
With hieroglyphics mystical inscribed;
Invention curious of graceless men,
And in sad mock'ry named 'the grace of God!'
What mighty 'suits at law,' begot and born
Within thy strait enclosure, yet survive
Thy tenth successor! And what mighty 'suits
In chancery,' (so named from CHANCE, who sits
Alternate there and in the legal courts,)
Still flourish, endless as the heap of words
Which mark the spot where Justice lies entomb'd!
Perhaps at first thou wert allow'd to crown
The 'honorable' head of some grave senator;
Or judge astute; or member of 'the other
House;' pregnant perforce with weighty matters;
'Petitions' humbly praying to abolish
Slavery and 'hard times.' 'Bills' to promote
The better culture of morality
And morus multicaulis! Mayhap a brief
And formal letter to a brother member,
In courteous phrase requesting leave to shoot him.
'Notes,' 'Resolutions,' 'Speeches' of vast length,
And just adapted to produce what thou
Hast wanted many a year--a decent _nap_.
Perchance an editor, by some mysterious accident
Made passing rich with five-and-forty shillings,
First bore thee off in triumph; 'tis pity then
Thou canst not speak; else should we hear
Of much before unpublished; of countless 'bills'
Unpaid; of libels prudently suppress'd;
Of 'Stanzas' much, of 'Lines' innumerable;
And love-sick 'Songs' to goddesses mundane,
All wickedly committed to the Persian's god!
Thou mayst have crown'd a parson, and couldst tell,
If thou hadst power of verbal utterance,
Of 'the divinity that stirred within thee'
In shape of sermons; faithful or smooth-tongued,
As he who wrote them chanced to covet most
The smile of God or man. A lover's hat
Thou surely wert, (since all men love,
Who have a head,) and oft no doubt hast given
To scented billet-doux and amorous rhymes
Thy friendly guardianship; secure from aught
Save lifting winds and porter's curious eye.
At second-hand 'tis ten to one thou wert
A Jew's possession, got in honest barter;
Next, John the ostler's; last of all, past doubt
A vagrant's hat; the equitable purchase
Of an ill-sung song. Till quite worn out
With rain, and wind, and sleet, and other 'ills
Thy race is heir to,' the beggar cast thee
From his plebeian pate--and here thou liest.
_St. Alban's, Vermont._
THE COUNTRY.
There is something very pleasant in the country, particularly about
Thanksgiving-time, when families gather together from north, south, east
and west, around the huge roast turkey, and many pairs of jaws masticate
vigorously in gratitude for blessings received. At this season of the year
the bird which was fortunate enough to excite the enthusiasm of
Brillat-Savarin, and to be the theme of many chapters in his immortal
'Physiologie,' is the emblem of our republic. A bald eagle indeed! Who
ever heard of a roast eagle? But a turkey:
'The state of a fat turkey, the decorum
He marches in with, all the train and circumstance!
'Tis such a matter, such a glorious matter!
And then his sauce with oranges and onions;
And he displayed in all parts! for such a dish now,
And at my need, I would betray my father.'
What native American does not respond _Amen!_ from the depths of his
stomach to these appetizing verses of Beamount and Fletcher? But higher
far rises the gastronomic phrenzy of the Travelled, who have known the
bird, grand in his stuffing of chestnuts, sublime when swelling with the
bliss-bringing truffle!
And the country is at all seasons a pleasant idea, if properly considered;
but beware of the man of one idea, if that one be Country, as you would of
the _homo unius libri_. If you cannot distinguish timothy from clover, and
beets from carrots; if, agriculturally speaking, you don't 'know beans;'
he will annihilate you with his rural wisdom. For his whole existence is
in the soil. He worships things under the earth. Dust he is, and to dust
he shall return; (the sooner the better!) He prattles of potatoes, talks
of turnips, harangues about horse-radish, knows no composition except
compost. Speak to him of manners, and he will answer of manures. Like the
Egyptians, he worships a bull; and has all the fondness of Pythagoras for
beans. His only literature is Liebig's Animal Chemistry; his lighter
reading, the Cultivator and the New-England Farmer.
Such an one was whilom a citizen with protruding abdomen and white cravat,
who having realized a something in business, exchanges the counter for the
country; buys his acre or two, erects his manor-house, with a grass-plat
in front and a tree or two behind; and with a little straw hat on his
head, a linen coat on his back, and a hoe in his hand, saunters around his
limited possessions, as leisurely and as frequently as an old horse in a
mill, perfectly content with his place, his plans, and himself.
Call not upon him unless with double-soled boots and strapless trowsers;
and choose a cool day for the visit, if it must be made; for not over
'hill and dale,' but over rock and gully you must march; through ploughed
land and through weeds, through bowers of grape-vines and _bosquets_ of
Lima beans; scratched by the thorns of the gooseberry and brushed by the
long dew-covered leaves of the Indian corn. Numberless shrubs from a foot
to eighteen inches in height he will point out to you, and name them with
long names: 'This is the Prota Goras,' 'and that the Demo Creitus;' shrubs
which, if you had encountered them when alone, you might have eradicated
as weeds, in a moment of generous activity. And when muddy, breathless and
dripping, you reach the highest point of his possessions, he will wave his
hand majestically over some twenty feet of grass, and pointing to three
trees and a white fence in the _distance_, talk of scenery!