Part 2

Sir William Davenant, the dramatic poet, had no nose. He was one day walking along the Mews, when a female beggar followed him, crying, “Ah, God preserve your eyesight, sir! the Lord preserve your eyesight!” “Why, good woman,” said he, “do you pray so anxiously for my eyesight?” “Ah, dear sir,” answered the woman, “if it should please God that you grow dim-sighted, you have no place to hang your spectacles on!”

CHARLES II.

Charles the Second laid it down as a rule, that in his convivial parties the _king was always absent_. Being one night in a select party of this kind, one of his courtiers, who had contributed a good deal to his mirth, ventured to ask him for a place. Charles, though he liked the man as a companion, was yet unwilling to break through a fixed rule; and he therefore quickly replied,--“You may depend on it, I will speak to the king to-morrow about it.”

CHARLES II. UPON HONOUR.

Charles the Second, being at hazard one Twelfth Night at court, with the Duke of Buckingham and others, a well-dressed sharper, who stood behind the Duke’s chair, took the liberty to pick his pocket of a diamond snuff-box, which was very valuable. Just in the instant of his stealing it, the king happened to fix his eyes on him; on which the sharper, with great presence of mind, put his finger up to his nose, thereby insinuating it was done out of fun. The king knew the world too well to be gulled even by such an artifice; but, however, held his tongue. Some time after, the Duke missing his box, his majesty told him the circumstance. “Good God, sire,” says his grace, “why did not your majesty tell me of it in time?” “Oh!” says the king, “I could not do that; I _was upon honour_.”

DUKE OF NORFOLK.

The first Protestant Duke of Norfolk, carrying the sword of state before James II. to his chapel, stopped at the door, and would go no further. The king said, “Your father would have gone farther:” to which the Duke answered, “Your father would not have gone so far.”

HUGH PETERS.

Hugh Peters, the puritan, preaching on the Devil entering the swine, said,--“My beloved, for conclusion, I shall give three observations on the text; which, for your better remembrance, I shall clothe in three English proverbs. 1. The Devil went from men into swine: _he had rather play at small game than stand out_. 2. When he possessed them, they ran down a bank into the sea: _they must needs go whom the Devil drives_. 3. They were all, no less than two thousand, drowned in the sea: _the Devil brought his hogs to a fair market_.”

HANGING TOGETHER.

Hugh Peters, preaching a sermon to one of the Companies of London, the object of which was to exhort them to love and unity, he concluded by expressing a wish, that they might all join in concord, accord, or any other cord, so that they might all hang together.

SIR ISAAC NEWTON.

Sir Isaac Newton was once riding over Salisbury Plain, when a boy keeping sheep called to him, “Sir, you had better make haste on, or you will get a wet jacket.” Newton, looking round and observing neither clouds nor a speck on the horizon, jogged on, taking very little notice of the rustic’s information. He had made but a few miles, when a storm suddenly arising, drenched him to the skin. Surprised at the circumstance, and determined, if possible, to ascertain how an ignorant boy had attained a precision and knowledge in the weather of which the wisest philosophers would be proud, he rode back, wet as he was. “My lad,” said Newton, “I’ll give thee a guinea, if thou wilt tell me how thou canst foretell the weather so truly.” “Will ye, sir? I will then!” and the boy, scratching his head, and holding out his hand for the guinea; “Now, sir,” having received the money, and pointing to his sheep, “when you see that black ram turn his tail towards the wind, ’tis a sure sign of rain within an hour.” “What!” exclaimed the philosopher, “must I, in order to foretell the weather, stay here and watch which way that black ram turns his tail?” “Yes, sir.” Off rode Newton, quite satisfied with his discovery.

SHERIDAN AND THE STRANGER.

Sheridan was one day accosted by a gentlemanly looking elderly man, who had forgotten the name of the street to which he was going, when the following dialogue ensued:

_Stranger._ “Sir, I wish to go to a street the name of which I have forgotten; it is a very uncommon name; pray, sir, can you tell me of any such street near?”

_Sheridan._ “Perhaps, sir, you mean _John Street_?”

_Stranger._ “No; it is a street with an unusual name.”

_Sheridan._ “It can’t be Charles Street?”

_Stranger_ (_a little impatiently_). “It is not a common name--the most unusual name for a street.”

_Sheridan._ “Surely, sir, you are not looking for King Street?”

_Stranger_ (_growing more impatient_). “I tell you, sir, it is a street with a very odd name.”

_Sheridan._ “Bless me, sir, it is not Queen Street, is it?”

_Stranger_ (_evincing some degree of irritation_). “Queen Street! no, no! it is a sort of a curious name, I tell you.”

_Sheridan._ “I wish, sir, I could assist you: let me think. It may be Oxford Street?”

_Stranger_ (_getting testy_). “Sir, for Heaven’s sake, think; I keep telling you, that it is a street with any thing but a common name; any body knows Oxford Street.”

_Sheridan._ “Perhaps, the street has no name after all.”

_Stranger._ “No name, sir! Why, I tell you it has,--confound the name!”

_Sheridan._ “Really, sir, I am very sorry that I am unable to assist you; but let me suggest Piccadilly.”

The stranger could no longer restrain his irritation, but bounced away, exclaiming, “Oh, damn it, what a thick-headed fellow!” Sheridan, calling to him and bowing, replied, “Sir, I envy your admirable memory;” then walked on, enjoying his joke.[A]

SYMPATHY BETWEEN PRACTICAL JOKERS.

Between Tickell and Sheridan there was a never-ending “skirmish of wit,” both verbal and practical; and the latter kind, in particular, was carried on between them with all the waggery, and, not unfrequently, the malice of school-boys.

On one occasion, Sheridan having covered the floor of a dark passage, leading from the drawing-room, with all the plates and dishes of the house, ranged closely together, provoked his unconscious play-fellow to pursue him into the midst of them. Having left a path for his own escape, he passed through easily, but Tickell falling at full length into the ambuscade, was very much cut in several places. The next day, Lord John Townshend, on paying a visit to the bedside of Tickell, found him covered with patches, and indignantly vowing vengeance against Sheridan for his unjustifiable trick. In the midst of his anger, however, he could not help exclaiming, with the true feeling of an amateur of this sort of mischief, “But how amazingly well done it was!”

A POLITE GRAVEDIGGER.

Stevens (who died gravedigger of Clerkenwell, in 1768, at the age of ninety), was once on an examination before one of the courts in Westminster Hall, relative to some parochial affairs, when, being asked who he was, he replied “I am gravedigger of the parish of St. James’s, Clerkenwell, _at your honour’s service_.”

PRIDE OF ANCESTRY.

An anecdote is told of Mr. Roger of Werndee, in Monmouthshire, which exhibits the pride of ancestry in a striking point of view. His house was in such a state of dilapidation, that the proprietor was in danger of perishing under the ruins of the ancient mansion, which he venerated even in decay. A stranger, whom he accidently met at the foot of the Skyrrid, made various inquiries respecting the country, the prospects, and the neighbouring houses, and among others, asked, “Whose is this antique mansion before us?” “That, sir, is Werndee, a very ancient house; for out of it came the Earls of Pembroke of the first line, and the Earls of Pembroke of the second line; the Lords Herberts of Cherbury, the Herberts of Coldbrook, Ramsay, Cardiff, and York; the Morgans of Acton; the Earl of Hunsdon; the houses of Ircowm and Lanarth, and all the Powells. Out of this house, also, by the female line, came the Duke of Beaufort.” “And pray, sir, who lives there now?” “I do sir.” “Then pardon me, and accept a piece of advice; come out of it yourself, or you’ll soon be buried in the ruins of it.”

IMPROVEMENT ON THE FRILL.

George Selwyn one day dining at the Duke of Richmond’s, a French marquis was declaiming on the ingenuity of his countryman; “who,” he said, “were de grande artistes for de modes and de fashions, _pour tout le monde_. For instance,” said he, “look at de roffel (_ruffle_), dat fine ornament for de hand and for de breast: de Frenchman invent it, and all de oder nations in Europe quickly adopt de same plan.” “True,” replied Mr. Selwyn, “we allow that your countrymen have great merit in invention; but you must at the same time admit, that, though the English are not an inventive, they are at least an improving people: for example, to the very articles which you mention they have made a very important and useful addition.” “_Les Anglois_, Mistare Selvin,” returned the Frenchman, stroking and pulling down the ruffles on his breast and hands, “are, sans doute, ver clevar men; _mais je ne connois pas quelle_ improvement dey could make to de roffel; _que ce la, Monsieur?_” “Why, by adding a _shirt_ to it,” replied Selwyn.

PETER THE GREAT.

A Russian officer, named Valensky, who had a command in the Persian expedition, had once been beaten by the Emperor Peter’s order, mistaking him for another. “Well,” said Peter, “I am sorry for it, but you will deserve it one day or other, and then remind me that you are in arrears with me;” which accordingly happened upon that very expedition, and he was excused.

SHERIDAN AND THE WESTMINSTER VOTER.

As Mr. Sheridan was coming up to town in one of the public coaches for the purpose of canvassing Westminster, at the time when Paull was his opponent, he found himself in company with two Westminster electors. In the course of the conversation, one of them asked the other to whom he meant to give his vote? When his friend replied, “To Paull, certainly; for though I think him but a shabby sort of fellow, I would vote for any one rather than that rascal Sheridan!”

“Do you know Sheridan?” asked the stranger.

“Not I, sir,” answered the gentleman, “nor should I wish to know him.”

The conversation dropped here; but when the party alighted to breakfast, Sheridan called aside the one gentleman, and said,--

“Pray who is that very agreeable friend of yours? He is one of the pleasantest fellows I ever met with, and I should be glad to know his name?”

“His name is Mr. T----: he is an eminent lawyer, and resides in Lincoln’s Inn Fields.”

Breakfast over, the party resumed their seats in the coach; soon after which, Sheridan turned the discourse to the law. “It is,” said he, “a fine profession. Men may rise from it to the highest eminence in the state; and it gives vast scope to the display of talent: many of the most virtuous and noble characters recorded in our history have been lawyers. I am sorry, however, to add, that some of the greatest rascals have been lawyers; but of all the rascals of lawyers I ever heard of, the greatest is one Mr. T----, who lives in Lincoln’s Inn Fields.”

“I am Mr. T----,” said the gentleman.

“And I am Mr. Sheridan,” was the reply.

The jest was instantly seen; they shook hands, and, instead of voting against the facetious orator, the lawyer exerted himself warmly in promoting his election.

A BULLY.

A bully telling a gentleman, that in manhood and valour he came far behind him, “You are not far wrong,” answered the other; “the last time I fought with you, you ran away so fast that I could not overtake you, run as I might.”

BUCKINGHAM AND SIR ROBERT VINER.

The second Duke of Buckingham talking to Sir Robert Viner in a melancholy humour about his personal extravagance, “I am afraid, Sir Robert,” he said, “I shall die a beggar at last--the most terrible thing in the world.” “Upon my word, my lord,” answered the mayor, “there is another thing more terrible which you have reason to apprehend, and that is, that you will _live a beggar_ at the rate you go on.”

PROPHECY FULFILLED.

One coming into a cathedral, where the choir consisted of very bad voices, said, that the prophecy of Amos was fulfilled; “and the songs of the temple shall be howlings.”

LORD THURLOW AND THE DISSENTERS.

The dissenters waited upon Lord Thurlow by appointment, to request his vote for the repeal of the test act. After he had heard their sentiments in a long harangue, with more than his ordinary patience, when the speech was concluded, he thus addressed them:--“Gentlemen, you have requested me to vote for the repeal of the test act. I shall not vote for it. I do not care whether your religion or mine has the ascendancy, or whether any religion or none; but as I know when you were uppermost, you kept us down; so now that we are uppermost, we will, by the help of God, keep you where you are.”

SHERIDAN AND HIS SON.

Sheridan took his son one day to task upon his celibacy, and strongly urged that he should take a wife. “Very well, father,” answered Tom, “whose wife shall I take?”

THE BELLOWS-BLOWER.

In a cathedral, one day after service, the bellows-blower said to the organist, “I think we have done very well to-day.” “_We!_” said the organist, in no small surprise at the impudence of his menial, “how can you pretend to have any merit in the performance? Never let me hear you say such a thing again.” The man said nothing more at the time, but when they were next playing, he suddenly intermitted in his task of inflating the organ. The organist rose in wrath to order him to proceed, when the fellow thrusting his head out from behind the curtain, asked slily, “Shall it be _we_ then?”

A FAMILY HUNG UP.

A lady, who, by virtue of an immense fortune, acquired by her father in the profession of a pawnbroker, had married a poor nobleman, was shewing her new and elegantly furnished house to George Selwyn. Having led him from room to room, and displayed the whole of her rhetoric and taste, she at last threw open a pair of large folding doors that led into the grand saloon, which was superbly furnished, but contained no pictures. “Here, Mr. Selwyn,” said she, “I intend to hang up all my family.” “I thought,” replied George, “your ladyship might have spared yourself that trouble; for I always understood they were _hung up_ long ago.”

LORD KENYON.

A friend having pointed out to Sheridan, that Lord Kenyon had fallen asleep at the first representation of Pizarro, and that, too, in the midst of Rollo’s fine speech to the Peruvian soldiers, the dramatist felt rather mortified; but, instantly recovering his usual good humour, he said, “Ah poor man! let him sleep! he thinks he is on the _bench_.”

A MATCH FOR SHERIDAN.

Sheridan sometimes met with his match, and that in quarters where it might have been least expected. He was one day endeavouring to _cut_ a suit of new clothes out of a tailor’s shop in the city. Flattery was the weapon he employed. “Upon my word,” said he, “you are an excellent finisher; you beat our snips in the West End hollow. Why don’t you push your thimble amongst us? I’ll recommend you every where. Upon my honour your work does you infinite credit.” “Yes,” replied the artist, “I always take care that my work gives _long credit_, but the wearers _ready money_.”

BENEFIT OF STAMMERING.

A stammering Lord Deloraine, being in a cock-pit, and offering several bets, which he would have lost if he could have replied in time, at length offered ten pounds to a crown. A gambler who stood by, said, “Done;” but, his lordship’s fit of stuttering happening to seize him at that moment, he could not repeat the word “done” till the favourite cock was beat. “Confound your stuttering tongue!” cried the _leg_, “if you could speak like other folk, you would be ruined.”

GOOD MANNERS.

Dunning the celebrated barrister, was addicted to the low and unpardonable vice of turning witnesses into ridicule at their examinations. One morning, he was telling Mr. Solicitor-General Lee that he had bought a few _good manors_ in Devonshire, near his native village of Ashburton. “I wish,” said Lee, “you would bring some of them into Westminster Hall; for upon my honour, you have most need of them there.”

HANDEL AND THE SERPENT.

The first time the musical instrument called _The Serpent_ was used in a concert where Handel presided, he was so much surprised with the coarseness of its tones, that he called out hastily, “Vat de devil is dat?” On being informed it was the serpent, he replied, “It never can be de serpent vat seduced Eve.”

A MONARCH IN FAULT.

About the time when Murphy so successfully attacked the stage-struck heroes in the pleasant farce of _The Apprentice_, an eminent poulterer went to a sporting-club in search of his servant, who, he understood, was that evening to make his debut in Lear; he entered the room at the moment when Dick was exclaiming, “I am the king--you cannot touch me for the coining!” “No, you dog,” cried the enraged master, catching the mad monarch by the collar; “but I can for not picking the ducks.”

SOTTISE OF A FRENCHMAN.

A Frenchman, who had learnt English, wished to be particularly polite, and never neglected an opportunity of saying something pretty. One evening, he observed to Lady R----, whose dress was fawn-coloured, and that of her daughter pink, “Milady, your daughter is de _pink_ of beauty.” “Ah monsieur, you Frenchmen always flatter.” “No madam, I only speak de truth, and what all de world will allow, dat your daughter is de _pink_, and your ladyship de _drab_ of fashion!” It was with great difficulty that the Frenchman could be made to comprehend his _sottise_.

AN EAST INDIAN MAJOR LONGBOW.

An old East Indian, who had returned from Calcutta, with a large fortune and a liver complaint, had retired to his native place (Banffshire), and was availing himself one evening of the usual privilege of travellers to a very large extent. His Scotch friends listened to his _Major Longbows_ with an air of perfect belief; till, at last, the worthy nabob happened to say, that in a particular part of India it was usual to fatten horses upon the flesh of sheep’s heads reduced to a pulp and mixed with rice. “Oh,” exclaimed all his auditors with one voice, “Oh, that will never do. We can believe all the rest; but really, feeding horses upon sheep’s heads is too bad.” “Well, gentlemen,” said the man of the East, “I assure you, that my story about the horses is _the only bit of truth that I have told you this evening_!”

A QUERULOUS MAN.

Mr. Tyers, the proprietor of Vauxhall Gardens, was a worthy man, but indulged himself a little too much in querulous complaints, when anything went amiss; insomuch that, he said, if he had been brought up a hatter he believed people would have been without heads! A farmer once gave him a humorous reproof for his kind of reproach of Heaven; he stepped up to him very respectfully, and asked him when he meant to open his Gardens. Mr. Tyers replied, the next Monday fortnight. The man thanked him repeatedly, and was going away; but Mr. Tyers asked him in return, what made him so anxious to know. “Why, sir,” said the farmer, “I think of sowing my turnips on that day, for you know we shall be sure to have rain.”

IMPROMPTU.

A gentlemen paying a visit one morning to a family in Hanover Square, was shewn into a room, where on a writing desk was a paper, on which a lady had begun to transcribe a song from the opera of _Love in a Village_: remarking that she had left off at the end of the two following lines,--

In love should there meet a fond pair, Untutor’d by fashion or art;

he took up a pen, and completed the verse by adding,--

If on earth such a couple there be, I’ll be whipt at the tail of a cart!

SHUT THE DOOR.

Among the many peculiarities of Dr. Burney, were two of a very innocent kind: the first was, the constant possession of wine of the best vintage, the next the dread of a current of air. “Shut the door,” was the first salutation uttered by him to any one who entered his apartment; and but few of his associates ever neglected the rule. This custom did not abandon him on the most trying occasions; for having been robbed by footpads while returning home one evening in his carriage to Chelsea Hospital, of which national asylum he was organist, he called them back as they were making off, exclaiming to them, in his usual peremptory tone, “Shut the door.” A voice so commanding had the desired effect; he was instantly obeyed.

MR. JEKYLL.

Mr. Jekyll being told that Mr. Raine, the barrister, was engaged as counsel for a Mr. Hay, inquired, if Raine was ever known to do good to Hay?

HANDEL.

While Handel was presiding at the organ, during the performance of his oratorio, entitled “Israel in Egypt,” the prima donna, Figuria Galli, commenced a song entirely out of tune--“I am an Israelite;” upon which Handel stopped the accompaniment, glared ferociously down upon the offender, and exclaimed, in a voice of ten thousand thunders, “_You are von dam beesh!_”

FOOTE AND THE EARL OF KELLY.

When the Earl of Kelly paid Foote a visit at his country villa, that celebrated wit took him into his garden, and, alluding to the beaming honours of his lordship’s face, said, “Pray, my lord, look over the wall upon my cucumber bed; it has had no sun this year.”

A COMPLIMENT QUIZZED.

A gentleman walking in the fields with a lady, picked a _blue bell_, and taking out his pencil, wrote the following lines, which, with the flower, he presented to the lady.

This pretty flower, of heavenly hue, Must surely be allied to you; For you, dear girl, are heavenly too.

To which the lady replied:--

If, sir, your compliment be true, I’m sorry that _I look so blue_.

KILLING THE DEVIL.

A young girl from the country, on a visit to Mr. H----, a Quaker, was prevailed on to accompany him to the meeting. It happened to be a silent one, none of the brethren being moved by the spirit to utter a syllable. When Mr. H. left the meeting-house with his young friend, he asked her, “How dost thou like the meeting?” To which she pettishly replied, “Like it? why, I can see no sense in it; to go and sit for whole hours together without speaking a word,--it is enough to kill the Devil.” “Yes, my dear,” rejoined the Quaker, “_that_ is just what we want.”

THE GREATEST BORE IN LONDON.

When Sir William Curtis returned from his voyage to Italy and Spain, he called to pay his respects to Mr. Canning, at Gloucester Lodge. Among other questions, Sir William said, “But, pray, Mr. Canning, what do you say to the tunnel under the Thames?” “Say,” replied the secretary, “why, I say it will be the greatest _bore_ London ever had, and that is saying a great deal.”

RADCLIFFE OF DERWENTWATER.

It has often been observed, that a habitual sayer of good things will have his joke under whatever circumstances he may be placed. Radcliffe, brother of the unfortunate Earl of Derwentwater, and who was himself executed in 1746, for his concern in the insurrection of 1715, was brought to the bar to receive sentence of death, in company with an old man of Falstaffian dimensions. The judge asking the usual question of this other prisoner, “Plead your belly, plead your belly,” said the grandson of Charles II, with a sly look at that part of his companion’s person.

SHERIDAN UPON REGULARITY, WITH NOTES BY THE EARL OF GUILDFORD.

Just about the time that Mr. Sheridan took his house in Saville Row, he happened to meet Lord Guildford in the street, to whom he mentioned his change of residence, and also announced a change in his habits. “Now, my dear Lord, everything is carried on in my house with the greatest regularity; everything, in short, goes like clockwork.” “Ah!” replied Lord Guildford, “tick, tick, tick, I suppose.”

ANTI-CLIMAX.