Part 1

JOE MILLER’S JESTS,

WITH COPIOUS ADDITIONS.

EDITED BY FRANK BELLEW.

COPY OF THE TITLE-PAGE TO THE ORIGINAL EDITION.

JOE MILLER’S JESTS; OR, THE WIT’S VADE-MECUM: being a collection of the most brilliant Jests; the politest _Repartees_; the most elegant _Bon mots_, and most pleasant short Stories in the _English_ language. First carefully collected in the company, and many of them transcribed from the mouth of the Facetious _Gentleman_, whose name they bear; and now set forth and published by his lamentable friend and former companion, Elijah Jenkins, Esq. Most humbly inscribed to those Choice Spirits of the Age, Captain Bodens, Mr. Alexander Pope, Mr. Professor Lacy, Mr. Orator Henley, and Job Baker, the Kettle-Drummer. London: Printed and sold by T. Read, in Dogwell Court, White’s Fryars, Fleet Street. MDCCXXXIX.

PUBLISHED AT THE OFFICE OF THE NORTHERN MAGAZINE, 39 PARK ROW, NEW-YORK.

1865.

Entered, according to Act of Congress, in the year 1865, by

A. BELLEW,

In the Clerk’s Office of the District Court of the United States for the Southern District of New-York.

PREFACE.

A few years ago, at a dinner party in England, a very good story was told by one of the company, who represented the hero of the anecdote as a well-known nobleman then living. This story was immediately pronounced to be an “old Joe.” On this, a warm discussion took place, when it came out incidentally, that not one of those present had ever seen the book so familiarly referred to. This discovery aroused the curiosity of one of the party, who immediately resolved to procure a copy of the work―a most difficult and costly matter. Having procured the book, he decided to republish it for the benefit of his benighted fellow-countrymen, and the following volume is the result.

A singular fact connected with this work is, that every body presumes that he himself, and every other person, is perfectly familiar with its contents; and yet, if the reader will ask his friends, it will appear that not one in a thousand ever set eyes on a copy; indeed, we doubt much whether there are a dozen persons in the United States who have ever seen the work.

Mr. Joseph Miller―or Joe Miller, as he is generally called, with a familiarity that smacks of immortality―whose name as a wit is now current wherever the English language is spoken, was, when living, himself a jest for dulness, so that his name appended to this work is what Mr. Artemus Ward would call “sarkasum.” According to report, Miller, who _was_ an excellent comic actor, but taciturn and saturnine, “was in the habit of spending his afternoons at the _Black Jack_, a well-known public-house in Portsmouth street, Clare Market, which at that time was frequented by the most respectable tradesmen in the neighborhood, who, from Joe’s imperturbable gravity, whenever any risible saying was recounted, ironically ascribed it to him. After his death, having left his family unprovided for, advantage was taken of this _badinage_. A Mr. Mottley, a well-known dramatist of that day, was employed to collect all the stray jests, then current on town. Joe Miller’s name was prefixed to them, and from that day to this, the man who never uttered a jest has been the reputed author of every jest, past and present, and doubtless through future ages will receive credit for all the good things that may be said by the grandchildren of those youngsters who now collect ― and our knees, and, in the innocence of their hearts, never suspect (that which they will, alas! discover in after years) that we have been palming off on them “Old Joe’s,” as the production of our own unparalleled humor. Fathers may well dread the effect this book may have on the filial respect of their sons a generation hence, when they will cease to be the respected wits and become the beloved impostors.

This volume not only contains the jests of Joe Miller, but a large number of others, gathered from collections of Facetiæ previously and since published. But to the bookworm and student of Jokology, it will be sufficient to say that the first one hundred and ninety-eight jokes comprise the whole of the genuine edition.

When we look at the reputation of this Miller, we must needs be deeply impressed with the capriciousness of the character of Fame. A hero or a martyr dies―she gives one small toot and hangs up her horn. But some obscure person is hot with a jest, and her trumpet brays away in his honor for ages. Then, too, her mendacity―George of England is advertised as a saint, and Joe Miller as a wit. For aught we can tell to the contrary, our great-grandchildren may honor the name of Greeley as a leader of fashion. They may speak of him as Dandy Horace or Beau Greeley―tailors may adorn their magazines of fashion with his portrait. Miles O’Reilly may be canonized, and Artemus Ward handed down to posterity as a general officer in the confederate army.

JOE MILLER’S JESTS.

1. The Duke of Atholl, who says more good things than anybody, being behind the scenes the first night of the Beggars’ Opera, and meeting Cibber there, Well, Colley, said he, how do you like the Beggars’ Opera? Why it makes one laugh, my lord, answered he, on the stage; but how will it do in print? O! very well, I’ll answer for it, said the duke, if you don’t write a preface to it.[1]

[1] See Cibber’s preface to Provoked Husband.

2. There being a great disturbance one night at Drury Lane play-house, Mr. Wilks, coming upon the stage to say something to pacify the audience, had an orange thrown full at him, which he having taken up, making a low bow, This is no civil orange, I think, said he.

3. Joe Miller sitting one day in the window at the Sun Tavern in Clare Street, a fishwoman and her maid passing by, the woman cried, “Buy my souls, buy my maids.” Ah! you wicked old creature, said honest Joe, what are you not content to sell your own soul, but you must sell your maid’s too?

4. A poor man who had a termagant wife, after a long dispute, in which she was resolved to have the last word, told her, If she spoke one more crooked word, he’d beat her brains out. Why then, ram’s-horns, you rogue, said she, if I die for it.

5. A hackney-coachman, who was just set up, had heard that the lawyers used to club their threepence a-piece, four of them, to go to Westminster; and being called by a lawyer at Temple Bar, who, with two others in their gowns, got into his coach, he was bid to drive to Westminster Hall; but the coachman still holding his door open, as if he waited for more company, one of the gentleman asked him, why he did not shut the door, and go on? The fellow, scratching his head, cried, You know, master, my fare’s a shilling; I can’t go for ninepence.

6. Two free-thinking authors proposed to a bookseller, that was a little decayed in the world, That if he would print their works, they would set him up; and, indeed, they were as good as their word, for in six weeks time he was in the pillory.

7. A gentleman was saying one day at the Tilt Yard Coffee-house, when it rained exceedingly hard, that it put him in mind of the general deluge. Zoons, sir, said an old campaigner, who stood by, who’s that? I have heard of all the generals in Europe but him.

8. A certain poet and player, remarkable for his impudence and cowardice, happening many years ago to have a quarrel with Mr. Powel, another player, received from him a smart box on the ear; a few days after, the poetical player having lost his snuff-box, and making strict inquiry if anybody had seen his box, What, said another of the buskined wits, that which George Powel gave you the other night?

9. Gun Jones, who had made his fortune himself, from a mean beginning, happening to have some words with a person who had known him some time, was asked by the other, how he could have the impudence to give himself so many airs, when he knew very well, that he remembered him seven years before with hardly a rag to his back. You lie, sirrah, replied Jones, seven years ago I had nothing but rags to my back.

10. Lord R― having lost fifty pistoles one night at the gaming-table in Dublin, some friends condoling with him upon his ill luck: Faith, said he, I am very well pleased at what I have done; for I have bit them, there is not one pistole that don’t want six-pence of weight.

11. A gentleman saying something in praise of Mrs. C―m, who is, without dispute, a good player, though exceeding saucy and exceeding ugly; another said, her face always put him in mind of Mary-bone Park; being desired to explain himself, he said, It was vastly rude, and had not one bit of pale about it.

12. A pragmatical young fellow, sitting at table over against the learned John Scott, asked him, What difference there was between Scott and Sot? Just the breadth of the table, answered the other.

13. Another poet asked Nat Lee, if it was not easy to write like a madman, as he did? No, answered Nat; but it is easy to write like a fool, as you do.

14. Colley, who, notwithstanding his odes, has now and then said a good thing, being told one night by the late Duke of Wharton, that he expected to see him hanged or beggared very soon: If I had your grace’s politics and morals, said the laureat, you might expect both.

15. Sir Thomas More for a long time had only daughters, his wife earnestly praying that they might have a boy; at last they had a boy, who, when he came to man’s estate, proved but simple: Thou prayedst so long for a boy, said Sir Thomas to his wife, that at last thou hast got one who will be a boy as long as he lives.

16. The same gentleman, when Lord Chancellor, being pressed by the counsel of the party, for a longer day to perform a decree, said, Take St. Barnaby’s Day, the longest in the year, which happened to be next week.

17. This famous Chancellor, who preserved his humour and wit to the last moment, when he came to be executed on Tower Hill, the headsman demanded his upper garment as his fee; Ah! friend, said he, taking off his cap, that, I think, is my upper garment.

18. When Rabelais, the greatest droll in France, lay on his death-bed, he could not help jesting at the very last moment; for, having received the extreme unction, a friend coming to see him, said, he hoped he was prepared for the next world: Yes, yes, replied Rabelais, I am ready for my journey now; they have just greased my boots.

19. Henry the Fourth of France, reading an ostentatious inscription on the monument of a Spanish officer, “Here lies the body of Don &c. &c., who never knew what fear was.” Then, said the king, he never snuffed a candle with his fingers.

20. A certain member of the French Academy, who was no great friend to the Abbot Furetiere, one day took the seat that was commonly used by the abbot, and soon after having occasion to speak, and Furetiere being by that time come in: Here is a place, said he, gentlemen, from whence I am likely to utter a thousand impertinencies. Go on, answered Furetiere, there’s one already.

21. When Sir Richard Steele was fitting up his great room in York Buildings, for public orations, he happened at one time to be pretty much behind-hand with his workmen, and coming one day among them, to see how they went forward, ordered one of them to get into the rostrum, and make a speech, that he might observe how it could be heard; the fellow mounting, and scratching his pate, told him, he knew not what to say, for in truth he was no orator. Oh! said the knight, no matter for that, speak anything that comes uppermost. Why here, Sir Richard, says the fellow, we have been working for you these six weeks, and cannot get one penny of money: pray, sir, when do you design to pay us?―Very well, very well, said Sir Richard, pray come down, I have heard enough; I cannot but own you speak very distinctly, though I don’t admire your subject.

22. A country clergyman, meeting a neighbour, who never came to church, although an old fellow of above sixty, he gave him some reproof on that account, and asked him if he never read at home? No, replied the clown, I can’t read. I dare say, said the parson, you don’t know who made you. Not I, in troth, said the countryman. A little boy coming by at the same time, Who made you, child? said the parson. God, sir, answered the boy. Why, look you there, quoth the honest clergyman, are not you ashamed to hear a child of five or six years old tell me who made him, when you, that are so old a man, cannot? Ah! said the countryman, it is no wonder that he should remember; he was made but t’other day, it is a great while, master, sin’ I was made.

23. A certain reverend clergyman in the country was complaining to another, that it was a great fatigue to preach twice a day. Oh! said the other, I preach twice every Sunday, and make nothing of it.

24. One of the aforesaid gentlemen, as was his custom, preaching most exceedingly dull to a congregation not used to him, many of them slunk out of the church, one after another, before the sermon was near ended. Truly, said a gentleman present, this learned doctor has made a very moving discourse.

25. Sir William Davenant the poet had no nose, who going along the Mews one day, a beggar-woman followed him, crying, Ah! God preserve your eye-sight, sir; the Lord preserve your eye-sight. Why, good woman, said he, do you pray so much for my eye-sight? 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.

26. A Welchman, bragging of his family, said, His father’s effigy was set up in Westminster Abbey; being asked whereabouts, he said, In the same monument with Squire Thynne’s; for he was his coachman.

27. A person was saying, not at all to the purpose, that Samson was a very strong man. Ay, said another, but you are much stronger, for you make nothing of lugging him in by the head and shoulders.

28. My Lord Strangford, who stammered very much, was telling a certain bishop that sat at his table, that Balaam’s ass spoke because he was pri―est― Priest-rid, sir, (said a valet-de-chambre, who stood behind the chair,) my lord would say. No, friend, replied the bishop, Balaam could not speak himself, and so his ass spoke for him.

29. The same noble lord asked a clergyman once, at the bottom of his table, why the goose, if there was one, was always placed next to the parson? Really, said he, I can give no reason for it; but your question is so odd, I shall never see a goose, for the future, without thinking of your lordship.

30. A gentleman was asking another how that poor devil S―ge could live, now my Lord T―l had turned him off. Upon his wits, said the other. That is living upon a slender stock indeed, replied the first.

31. A country parson having divided his text under two and twenty heads, one of the congregation went out of the church in a great hurry, and being met by a friend, he asked him, whither he was going? Home for my night-cap, answered the first, for I find we are to stay here all night.

32. A very modest young gentleman, of the county of Tipperary, having attempted many ways in vain to acquire the affections of a lady of great fortune, at last was resolved to try what could be done by the help of music, and therefore entertained her with a serenade under her windows at midnight; but she ordered her servant to drive him hence, by throwing stones at him. Your music, my friend, said one of his companions, is as powerful as that of Orpheus, for it draws the very stones about you.

33. A certain senator, who, it may be, is not esteemed the wisest man in the house, has a frequent custom of shaking his head when another speaks; which, giving offence to a particular person, he complained of the affront; but one who had been long acquainted with him, assured the house, It was only an ill habit he had got, for though he would oftentimes shake his head, there was nothing in it.

34. A gentleman having lent a guinea for two or three days to a person whose promises he had not much faith in, was very much surprised to find, that he punctually kept his word with him; the same gentleman being some time after desirous of borrowing the like sum, No, said the other, you have deceived me once, and I am resolved you shan’t do it a second time.

35. My Lord Chief Justice Holt had sent, by his warrant, one of the French prophets, a foolish sect, that started up in his time, to prison; upon which, Mr. Lacy, one of their followers, came one day to my lord’s house, and desired to speak with him; the servants told him, he was not well, and saw no company that day: But tell him, said Lacy, I must see him; for I come to him from the Lord; which being told the Chief Justice, he ordered him to come in, and asked him his business: I come, said he, from the Lord, who has sent me to thee, and would have thee grant a _nolle prosequi_ for John Atkins, whom thou hast cast into prison. Thou art a false prophet, answered my lord, and a lying knave; for if the Lord had sent thee, it would have been to the Attorney General; he knows it is not in my power to grant a _nolle prosequi_.

36. Tom B―rn―t happening to be at dinner at my Lord Mayor’s, in the latter part of Queen Anne’s reign, after two or three healths, the ministry was toasted; but when it came to Tom’s turn to drink, he diverted it for some time by telling a story to the person who sat next him; the chief magistrate of the city, not seeing his toast go round, called out, Gentlemen, where sticks the ministry? At nothing, said Tom, and so drank off his glass.

37. My Lord Craven, in King James the First’s reign, was very desirous to see Ben Jonson, which being told to Ben, he went to my lord’s house; but being in a very tattered condition, as poets sometimes are, the porter refused him admittance, with some saucy language, which the other did not fail to return. My lord, happening to come out while they were wrangling, asked the occasion of it? Ben, who stood in need of nobody to speak for him, said, he understood his lordship desired to see him. You, friend? said my lord, who are you? Ben Jonson, replied the other. No, no, quoth my lord, you cannot be Ben Jonson, who wrote the Silent Woman; you look as if you could not say Bo to a goose. Bo, cried Ben. Very well, said my lord, who was better pleased at the joke than offended at the affront, I am now convinced, by your wit, you are Ben Jonson.

38. A certain fop was boasting in company that he had every sense in perfection. There is one you are quite without, said one who was by, and that is common sense.

39. An Irish lawyer of the Temple having occasion to go to dinner, left these directions written, and put in the key-hole of his chamber door: I am gone to the Elephant and Castle, where you shall find me; and if you can’t read this note, carry it down to the stationer’s, and he will read it for you.

40. Old Dennis, who had been the author of many plays, going by a brandy-shop in St. Paul’s Church Yard, the man who kept it came out to him, and desired him to drink a dram. For what reason? said he. Because you are a dramatic poet, answered the other. Well, sir, said the old gentleman, thou art an out-of-the-way fellow, and I will drink a dram with thee: but when he had so done, he asked him to pay for it: ’Sdeath, Sir, said the bard, did you not ask me to drink a dram, because I was a dramatic poet? Yes, sir, replied the fellow, but I did not think you had been a dram-o’tick poet.

41. Daniel Purcell, the famous punster, and a friend of his, having a desire to drink a glass of wine together, upon the 30th of January, they went to the Salutation Tavern upon Holborn Hill, and finding the door shut, they knocked at it, but it was not opened to them, only one of the drawers looked through a little wicket, and asked what they would please to have? Why, open your door, said Daniel, and draw us a pint of wine: the drawer said, his master would not allow of it that day, for it was a fast. Hang your master, replied he, for a precise coxcomb, is he not contented to fast himself, but he must make his doors fast too?

42. The same gentleman calling for some pipes in a tavern, complained they were too short. The drawer said they had no other, and those were but just come in. Ay, said Daniel, I see you have not bought them very long.

43. The same gentleman, as he had the character of a great punster, was desired one night in company, by a gentleman, to make a pun extempore. Upon what subject? said Daniel. The King, answered the other. The king, sir, said he, is no subject.

44. G―s E―l, who, though he is very rich, is remarkable for his sordid covetousness, told Cibber one night in the green room, that he was going out of town, and was sorry to part with him, for faith he loved him. Ah! said Colley, I wish I was a shilling for your sake. Why so? said the other. Because then, cried the laureat, I should be sure you loved me.

45. Lord C―by, coming out of the House of Lords one day, called out, Where’s my fellow? Not in England, said a gentleman who stood by.

46. A beggar asking alms under the name of a poor scholar, a gentleman to whom he applied himself asked him a question in Latin; the fellow, shaking his head, said, he did not understand him. Why, said the gentleman, did you not say you were a poor scholar? Yes, replied the other, a poor one indeed, sir, for I do not understand one word of Latin.

47. Several years ago, when Mrs. Rogers the player was young and handsome, Lord North and Grey, remarkable for his homely face, accosting her one night behind the scenes, asked her with a sigh, what was a cure for love? Your Lordship, said she; the best I know in the world.

48. Colonel ――, who made the fine fireworks in St. James’s Square, upon the peace of Ryswick, being in company with some ladies, was highly commending the epitaph just then set up in the Abbey on Mr. Purcell’s monument―“He is gone to that place where only his own harmony can be exceeded.” Well, Colonel, said one of the ladies, the same epitaph might serve for you, by altering one word only: “He is gone to that place where only his own fireworks can be exceeded?”

49. Sir B―ch―r W―y, in the beginning of Queen Anne’s reign, and three or four more drunken tories, reeling home from the Fountain Tavern in the Strand, on a Sunday morning, cried out, We are the pillars of the church. No, said a whig, that happened to be in their company, you can be but the buttresses, for you never come on the inside of it.

50. After the fire of London, there was an act of parliament to regulate the buildings of the city; every house was to be three stories high. A Gloucestershire gentleman, a man of great wit and humour, just after this act passed, going along the street, and seeing a little crooked gentlewoman on the other side of the way, ran over to her in great haste; Lord, madam, said he, how dare you to walk the streets thus publicly? Walk the streets! and why not? answered the little woman. Because, said he, you are built directly contrary to act of parliament: you are but two stories high.

51. One Mr. Topham was so very tall and large, that if he was living now, he might be shewn at Yeate’s theatre for a sight. This gentleman going one day to inquire for a countryman a little way out of town, when he came to the house, he looked in at a little window over the door, and asked the woman, who sat by the fire, if her husband was at home? No, Sir, said she, but if you please to alight, and come in, I’ll go and call him.

52. The same gentleman walking across Covent Garden, was asked by a beggar-woman for a halfpenny, or farthing; but finding he would not part with his money, she begged he would give her one of his old shoes. He was very desirous to know what she could do with one shoe. To make my child a cradle, sir, said she.