Part 1

Transcriber's Notes:

Italic text is denoted by _underscores_.

No attempt at consistency of spelling or punctuation has been made, as the entire text consists of direct quotations from other sources.

A few minor corrections have been made to the index or where the original source has clearly been misprinted.

* * * * *

QUIPS AND QUIDDITIES

_Post 8vo, cloth limp, 2s. 6d. per volume._

THE MAYFAIR LIBRARY.

THE NEW REPUBLIC. By W. H. MALLOCK.

THE NEW PAUL AND VIRGINIA. By W. H. MALLOCK.

THE TRUE HISTORY OF JOSHUA DAVIDSON. By E. LYNN LINTON.

OLD STORIES RE-TOLD. By WALTER THORNBURY.

PUNIANA. By the Hon. HUGH ROWLEY.

MORE PUNIANA. By the Hon. HUGH ROWLEY.

THOREAU: HIS LIFE AND AIMS. By H. A. PAGE.

BY STREAM AND SEA. By WILLIAM SENIOR.

JEUX D'ESPRIT. Collected and Edited by HENRY S. LEIGH.

GASTRONOMY AS A FINE ART. By BRILLAT-SAVARIN.

THE MUSES OF MAYFAIR. Edited by H. CHOLMONDELEY PENNELL.

PUCK ON PEGASUS. By H. CHOLMONDELEY PENNELL.

ORIGINAL PLAYS by W. S. GILBERT. FIRST SERIES. Containing--The Wicked World, Pygmalion and Galatea, Charity, The Princess, The Palace of Truth, Trial by Jury.

ORIGINAL PLAYS by W. S. GILBERT. SECOND SERIES. Containing--Broken Hearts, Engaged, Sweethearts, Dan'l Druce, Gretchen, Tom Cobb, The Sorcerer, H.M.S. Pinafore, The Pirates of Penzance.

CAROLS OF COCKAYNE. By HENRY S. LEIGH.

LITERARY FRIVOLITIES, FANCIES, FOLLIES, AND FROLICS. By W. T. DOBSON.

PENCIL AND PALETTE. By ROBERT KEMPT.

THE BOOK OF CLERICAL ANECDOTES. By JACOB LARWOOD.

THE SPEECHES OF CHARLES DICKENS.

THE CUPBOARD PAPERS. By FIN-BEC.

QUIPS AND QUIDDITIES. Selected by W. DAVENPORT ADAMS.

MELANCHOLY ANATOMISED: a Popular Abridgment of "Burton's Anatomy of Melancholy."

THE AGONY COLUMN OF "THE TIMES," FROM 1800 TO 1870. Edited by ALICE CLAY.

PASTIMES AND PLAYERS. By ROBERT MACGREGOR.

CURIOSITIES OF CRITICISM. By HENRY J. JENNINGS.

THE PHILOSOPHY OF HANDWRITING. By DON FELIX DE SALAMANCA.

LATTER-DAY LYRICS. Edited by W. DAVENPORT ADAMS.

BALZAC'S COMÉDIE HUMAINE AND ITS AUTHOR. With Translations by H. H. WALKER.

_Other Volumes are in preparation._

CHATTO AND WINDUS, PICCADILLY, W.

QUIPS AND QUIDDITIES

_A QUINTESSENCE OF QUIRKS QUAINT, QUIZZICAL, AND QUOTABLE_

SELECTED AND EDITED BY W. DAVENPORT ADAMS

AUTHOR OF THE "DICTIONARY OF ENGLISH LITERATURE," ETC.

"How now, how now, mad wag? what, in thy Quips and thy Quiddities?"

I _Henry IV._, i. 2

London CHATTO AND WINDUS, PICCADILLY 1881

[_All rights reserved._]

PREFACE.

This is a modest little volume. It consists but of selections from the Editor's note-book, and its object is but to amuse. It does not even aspire to be read consecutively. The Compiler's hope is only that it may be found a pleasant companion at spare moments--that it may be considered handy for the pocket, and be thought agreeable to dip into.

To that end, two things have been aimed at in selecting--brevity and variety. There is scarcely anything in the volume that cannot be read almost at a glance, and the matter ranges over a wide extent of literary effort--over play and poem, over essay and novel, over maxim and epigram, over memoir and diary. There is pun, and there is parody; there is satire, and there is sarcasm. In a word, the little book may say, with Lafontaine, "Diversité c'est ma devise." There is diversity even in the arrangement, which consists merely of a general alternation of the prose and verse. For the rest, the quips and quiddities are in intentional disorder.

Let it be added that, though there are a few anonymous passages, most are duly attributed to their writers, together with references to the volumes from which they have been taken. In this, every care has been exercised to arrive at accuracy. The idea of completeness is, of course, foreign to a selection of this sort, and it may be mentioned that the Editor has been specially anxious to avoid as much as possible the ground covered by Mr. Leigh in his "Jeux d'Esprit," and by Mr. Dobson in his "Literary Frivolities." His aim, indeed, has been to take the freshest and least hackneyed of the passages in his collection, though he has not hesitated to include a venerable saying when it has seemed to him as good as it is venerable.

In conclusion, the Compiler desires to express in the most hearty manner his indebtedness to those numerous living writers whose bright and airy fancies form, in his opinion, one of the chief attractions of the book. He ought, perhaps, to apologize to those writers for presenting their fancies in a manner so generally fragmentary and disconnected. But that the contents of the book should be thus disconnected and fragmentary was part and parcel of its plan and origin, and, that being the case, the Editor hopes to be excused. He may state that, in those few cases where a piece of verse is given entire, it is distinguished by the presence of a heading. The epigrams, maxims, and anecdotes are, of course, reproduced as written--being, in their very nature, of the brevity essential to a quip.

Further: on the principle that no book, however unpretending, should be without an Index, the Compiler has supplied one for the present volume.

W.D.A.

"Shall I tell thee one thing, Poins?" "Yes, faith; and let it be an excellent good thing."

I _Henry IV._, ii. 2.

QUIPS AND QUIDDITIES.

When Miss Callender, afterwards Mrs. Sheridan, published a novel, the hero of which commits forgery, that wicked wit, Sydney Smith, said he knew she was a Callender, but did not know till then that she was a Newgate Calendar.

FANNY KEMBLE, _Record of a Girlhood_.

An estate and beauty joined, are of an unlimited, nay, a power pontifical; make one not only absolute, but infallible. A fine woman's never in the wrong.

_Lady Betty_, in CIBBER's _Careless Husband_.

_THEOPHILUS._

When I'm drinking my tea I think of my _The_; When I'm drinking my coffee I think of my _Offee_; So, whether I'm drinking my tea or my coffee, I'm always a-thinking of thee, my Theoffy.

ROGERS, _apud_ MOORE.

Bobus was very amusing. He is a great authority on Indian matters. We talked of the insects and the snakes, and he said a thing which reminded me of his brother Sydney: "Always, sir, manage to have at your table some fleshy blooming young writer or cadet, just come out, that the mosquitoes may stick to him, and leave the rest of the company alone."

LORD MACAULAY, _Life_.

Lady Greenwich, in a conversation with Lady Tweeddale, named the Saxons. "The Saxons, my dear," cried the Marchioness; "who were they?" "Lord, madam, did your ladyship never read the History of England?" "No, my dear; pray, who wrote it?"

HORACE WALPOLE, _Correspondence_.

_ON THE MARRIAGE OF A MR. LOT AND A MISS SALTER._

Because on her way she chose to halt, Lot's wife, in the Scriptures, was turned into salt; But though in her course she ne'er did falter, This young Lot's wife, strange to say, was Salter.

HICKS, _apud_ J. C. YOUNG.

Hook was dining at Powell's one day, and the talk fell upon _feu_ Jack Reeve. "Yes," said Theodore, when they were speaking of his funeral, "I met him in his private box, going to the pit."

H. F. CHORLEY, _Life and Letters_.

_TO A BAD FIDDLER._

Old Orpheus played so well, he moved old Nick, While thou mov'st nothing but thy fiddlestick!

_A Collection of Epigrams_ (1727).

A lady from China who was dining with the Archbishop [Whately] told him that English flowers reared in that country lose their perfume in two or three years. "Indeed!" was the immediate remark, "I had no idea that the Chinese were such de-scent-ers."

E. J. WHATELY's _Life of Whately_.

_ON THE ART UNIONS._

That Picture-Raffles will conduce to nourish Design, or cause good colouring to flourish, Admits of logic-chopping and wise-sawing: But surely Lotteries encourage Drawing?

THOMAS HOOD, _Whims and Oddities_.

Robert Smith (brother of Sydney, and familiarly called "Bobus") was a lawyer and an ex-Advocate-General, and happened on one occasion to be engaged in argument with an excellent physician touching the merits of their respective professions. "You must admit," urged Dr. ----, "that your profession does not make angels of men." "No," was the retort, "there you have the best of it; yours certainly gives them the first chance."

ABRAHAM HAYWARD, _Essays_.

In London I never know what I'd be at, Enraptured with this, and enchanted by that; I'm wild with the sweets of variety's plan, And Life seems a blessing too happy for man.

But the Country, Lord help me! sets all matters right; So calm and composing from morning to night; Oh! it settles the spirits when nothing is seen But an ass on a common, a goose on a green.

CHARLES MORRIS, _Lyra Urbanica_.

Parler d'amour, c'est faire amour.

BALZAC, _Physiologie du Mariage_.

At the Polish ball, the Lord Mayor said to Lady Douglas, who squints, "Which do you prefer, my lady, Gog or Magog?" "Of the _three_," said Lady Douglas, "I prefer your lordship!"

B. R. HAYDON, _Diary_.

_ON THE CAPPADOCIANS._

A viper bit a Cappadocian's hide; But 'twas the viper, not the man, that died.

ANON., _from the Greek_.

The merits of a certain American diplomatist being on the _tapis_, [Washington Irving] said, in allusion to his pomposity, "Ah, he is a great man; and, in his own estimation, a very great man--a man of great weight. When he goes to the West, the East tips up."

J. C. YOUNG, _Diary_.

When a rapt audience has encored "Fra Poco" Or "Casta Diva," I have heard that then The Prima Donna, smiling herself out, Recruits her flagging powers with bottled stout.

C. S. CALVERLEY, _Verses and Translations_.

I believe everything. It saves one such a world of bore from intelligent people who are anxious to explain things you doubt about.

_Lucy Forrester_, in BROOKS' _Aspen Court_.

Rank so friendly now with trade is, Bill discounters titled ladies Stoop to raise. Manners used to make the man, It is only money can Nowadays.

J. JEMMETT BROWNE, _Songs of Many Seasons_.

Black is a great fact. Want of fashion in the cut; want of richness in the material; want of _chic_ in the wearer--all these it covers, like charity. There's a sentiment about it which appeals to the feelings, and it is becoming to the skin.

ANNA C. STEELE.

Are you quite sure that Pygmalion is the only person who ever fell in love with his own handiwork?

_Guesses at Truth._

Duty,--that's to say the complying With whate'er's expected here, On your unknown cousin's dying, Straight be ready with the tear; Upon etiquette relying, Unto usage nought denying, Lend your waist to be embraced, Blush not even, never fear.

A. H. CLOUGH, _Poems_.

What Jenner said on hearing in Elysium that complaints had been made of his having a statue in Trafalgar Square:--

England, ingratitude still blots The escutcheon of the brave and free: I saved you many million spots, And now you grudge one spot to me.

SHIRLEY BROOKS, _Wit and Humour_.

Deh! what are we sinners doing all our lives? Making soup in a basket, and getting nothing but the scum for our stomachs.

_Machiavelli_, in GEORGE ELIOT's _Romola_.

My idea of an agreeable person is a person who agrees with me.

_Hugo Bohun_, in LORD BEACONSFIELD's _Lothair_.

"Will you walk a little faster?" said a whiting to a snail, "There's the porpoise close behind us, and he's treading on my tail. See how eagerly the lobsters and the turtles all advance! They are waiting on the shingle--will you come and join the dance?

"You can really have no notion how delightful it will be When they take us up and throw us, with the lobsters, out to sea!" But the snail replied, "Too far, too far!" and gave a look askance, Said he thanked the whiting kindly, but he would not join the dance.

LEWIS CARROLL, _Alice in Wonderland_.

I could draw on wood at a very tender age. When a mere child I once drew a small cartload of turnips over a wooden bridge. The people of the village noticed me. I drew their attention.

C. F. BROWNE, _Artemus Ward's Lecture_.

That all-softening over-powering knell, The tocsin of the soul--the dinner-bell.

LORD BYRON, _Don Juan_.

Now Darwin proves as clear as mud, That, endless ages ere the Flood, The Coming Man's primeval form Was simply an Ascidian worm: And having then the habit got Of passing liquor down his throat, He keeps it still, and shows full well That Man--was--once----a leather bottèl.

LORD NEAVES, _Songs and Verses_.

"The ancients," quoth Paul, "were very great men, Mr. MacGrawler." "They were so, sir," returned the critic; "we make it a rule in our profession to assert that fact." "But, sir," said Paul, "they are wrong now and then." "Never, Ignoramus, never." "They praised poverty, Mr. MacGrawler," said Paul, with a sigh. "Hem," quoth the critic, a little staggered; but presently recovering his characteristic acumen, he observed, "It is true, Paul, but that was the poverty of other people."

LORD LYTTON, _Paul Clifford_.

Yes, Fortune deserves to be chidden, It is a coincidence queer-- Whenever one wants to be hidden Some blockhead is sure to appear!

FREDERICK LOCKER, _London Lyrics_.

One day in the country [Sheridan Knowles] said to Abbot, with whom he had been acting there, "My dear fellow, I'm off to-morrow. Can I take any letters for you?" "You're very kind," answered Abbot; "but where are you going to?" "_I haven't made up my mind._"

J. R. PLANCHÉ, _Recollections_.

_BLUE STOCKINGS._

The newspapers lately have taught us to know How some strong-minded hens are beginning to crow. But, dear ladies, beware: take the word of a friend, That when rivalry comes, all affection must end. With the brightest of _spoons_ would be war to the _knife_ In political contests 'twixt husband and wife; And the sentence of doom might be sudden and brief If a feminine subaltern jilted her chief. We men take a pride in concealing our chains, And would like to be thought to monopolize brains; So I'll give you this maxim, my counsels to crown-- _If the stockings are blue, keep the petticoats down._

_Once a Week._

Talking of Kean, I mentioned his having told me that he had eked out his means of living, before he emerged from obscurity, by teaching dancing, fencing, elocution, and boxing. "Elocution and boxing!" (repeated Bobus Smith)--"a word and a blow."

THOMAS MOORE, _Diary_.

_MILITARY._

Smart soldiers like to be well tightened in: Loose habits would destroy all discipline.

H. J. BYRON, in _English Epigrams_.

Fontaine, the architect, who built the triumphal arch in the Carrousel, placed upon it an empty car, drawn by the famous bronze Venetian horses. Talleyrand asked him, "_Qui avez vous l'intention de mettre dans le char?_" The answer was, "_L'Empereur Napoléon, comme de raison_." Upon which Talleyrand said, "_Le char l'attend_."

GRONOW, _Recollections_.

'Tis doubtless well to be sometimes awake-- Awake to duty, and awake to truth,-- But when, alas! a nice review we take Of our best deeds and days, we find, in sooth, The hours that leave the slightest cause to weep Are those we passed in childhood or asleep!

JOHN GODFREY SAXE, _Poems_.

_Sir Toby._ "Does not our life consist of the four elements?" _Sir Andrew._ "Faith, so they say; but I think it rather consists of eating and drinking."

_Twelfth Night_, Act II., Scene 3.

She thought "Wives and Daughters" "_so_ jolly;" "Had I read it?" She knew that I had: Like the rest, I should dote upon "Molly;" And "poor Mrs. Gaskell--how sad!" "Like Browning?" "But so-so." His proof lay Too deep for her frivolous mood, That preferred your mere metrical _soufflé_ To the stronger poetical food; Yet at times he was good--"as a tonic:" Was Tennyson writing just now? And was this new poet Byronic, And clever, and naughty, or how?

AUSTIN DOBSON, _Vignettes in Rhyme_.

Old friends are best. King James used to call for his old shoes; they were easiest for his feet.

SELDEN, _Table Talk_.

Let a coach be called, And let the man who called it be the caller; And in his calling let him nothing call, But coach, coach, coach! Oh for a coach, ye gods!

CAREY, _Chrononhotonthologos_.

If you could make a pudding wi' thinking o' the batter, it 'ud be easy getting dinner.

_Mrs. Poyser_, in GEORGE ELIOT's _Adam Bede_.

There's somewhat on my breast, father, There's somewhat on my breast; The livelong day I sigh, father, And at night I cannot rest. 'Tis not the lack of gold, father, Nor want of worldly gear; My lands are broad, and fair to see, My friends are kind and dear.

'Tis not that Janet's false, father, 'Tis not that she's unkind; Though busy flatterers swarm around, I know her constant mind. 'Tis not her coldness, father, That chills my labouring breast: It's that confounded cucumber I've eat and can't digest.

R. H. BARHAM, _Ingoldsby Lyrics_.

Insolence is a charming quality, when, like mercy, it is not strained.

_Once a Week._

Ancient Phillis has young graces, 'Tis a strange thing, but a true one! Shall I tell you how? She, herself, makes her own faces, And each morning wears a new one; Where's the wonder now?

_Lord Froth_, in CONGREVE's _Double Dealer_.

Célébrité--l'avantage d'être connu de ceux que vous ne connaissez pas.

CHAMFORT, _Maximes_.

'Tis past all bearing, when a husband slights his bride, Who last Christmas still was blushing at her elder sister's side; Still on some minute allowance finding collars, boots, and gloves, Still to cousinly flirtations limiting her list of loves, Still by stern domestic edict charged on no account to read Any of Miss Brontë's novels, or to finish _Adam Bede_.

_First Lady_, in TREVELYAN's _Ladies in Parliament_.

I differ from all the ordinary biographers of that independent gentleman Don't Care. I believe Don't Care came to a good end. At any rate he came to some end. Whereas numbers of people never have beginning, or ending, of their own.

_Ellesmere_, in HELPS's _Friends in Council_.

_DISTICH._

Wisely a woman prefers to a lover a man who neglects her. This one may love her some day; some day the lover will not.

JOHN HAY, _Poems_.

One morning [Jerrold and Compton] proceeded together to view the pictures in the Gallery of Illustration. On entering the ante-room, they found themselves opposite to a number of very long looking-glasses. Pausing before one of these, [Compton] remarked to Jerrold, "You've come here to admire works of art! Very well, first feast your eyes on that work of nature!"--pointing to his own figure reflected in the glass; "look at it, there's a picture for you!" "Yes," said Jerrold, regarding it intently, "very fine, very fine indeed!" Then, turning to his friend: "Wants hanging, though!"

_Memoir of Henry Compton._

Sing for the garish eye, When moonless brandlings cling! Let the froddering crooner cry, And the braddled sapster sing. For never, and never again, Will the tottering beechlings play, For bratticed wrackers are singing aloud, And the throngers croon in May!

W. S. GILBERT.

Sydney Smith said of a certain quarrelsome person that his very face was a breach of the peace.

J. T. FIELDS, _Yesterdays with Authors_.

Kerchief in hand I saw them stand; In every kerchief lurked a lunch; When they unfurl'd them it was grand To watch bronzed men and maidens crunch The sounding celery-stick, or ram The knife into the blushing ham.

Dash'd the bold fork through pies of pork; O'er hard-boil'd eggs the saltspoon shook; Leapt from its lair the playful cork: Yet some there were, to whom the brook Seemed sweetest beverage, and for meat They chose the red root of the beet.

C. S. CALVERLEY, _Fly Leaves_.

Of all virtues, magnanimity is the rarest. There are a hundred persons of merit for one who willingly acknowledges it in another.

W. HAZLITT, _Characteristics_.

Bisness first, pleasure artervards, as King Richard the Third said ven he stabbed the tother king in the Tower, afore he murdered the babbies.

CHARLES DICKENS, _apud_ J. T. FIELDS.

We are all of us liable to this error of imagining that we are grieved at a fault, when we are only grieved at having done something to lower ourselves in our own estimation.

E. M. SEWELL, _Margaret Percival_.

I trembled once beneath her spell Whose spelling was extremely so-so.

FREDERICK LOCKER, _London Lyrics_.

It's easy finding reasons why other folks should be patient.

_Bartle Massey_, in GEORGE ELIOT's _Adam Bede_.

_OUR TRAVELLER._

If thou wouldst stand on Etna's burning brow, With smoke above, and roaring flames below; And gaze adown that molten gulf reveal'd Till thy soul shudder'd, and thy senses reel'd;-- If thou wouldst beard Niagara in his pride, Or stem the billows of Propontic tide; Scale all alone some dizzy Alpine _haut_, And shriek "Excelsior!" amidst the snow;-- Wouldst tempt all deaths, all dangers that may be, Perils by land, and perils on the sea,-- This vast round world, I say, if thou wouldst view it, Then why the dickens don't you go and do it?

H. CHOLMONDELEY PENNELL, _Puck on Pegasus_.

I am saddest when I sing; so are those who hear me. They are sadder even than I am.

C. F. BROWNE, _Artemus Ward's Lecture_.

An ape with a pliable thumb and big brain, When the gift of the gab he had managed to gain, As a lord of creation established his reign, Which nobody can deny.

But I'm sadly afraid, if we do not take care, A relapse to low life may our prospects impair, So of beastly propensities let us beware, Which nobody can deny.

Their lofty position our children may lose, And, reduced to all-fours, must then narrow their views, Which would shortly unfit them for wearing our shoes, Which nobody can deny.

Their vertebræ next might be taken away, When they'd sink to an oyster, or insect, some day, Or the pitiful part of a polypus play, Which nobody can deny.

LORD NEAVES, _Songs and Verses_.

It's dreadful to think on, people playing with their own insides in that way! And it's flying i' the face o' Providence; for what are the doctors for, if we aren't to call 'em in?

_Mrs. Pullet_, in GEORGE ELIOT's _Mill on the Floss_.

Brief, in two rules he summed the ends of man-- Keep all you have, and try for all you can!

LORD LYTTON, _King Arthur_.

_LOVE SONG._

What mistress half so dear as mine, Half so well dressed, so pungent, fragrant, Who can such attributes combine, To charm the constant, fix the vagrant? Who can display such varied arts, To suit the taste of saint and sinner, Who go so near to touch their hearts, As thou, my darling dainty dinner?

Still my breast holds a rival queen, A bright-eyed nymph of sloping shoulders, Whose ruddy cheeks and graceful mien Entrance the sense of all beholders. Oh! when thy lips to mine are pressed, What transports titillate my throttle! My love can find new life and zest, In thee, and thee alone, my bottle!

HORACE SMITH, _The Tin Trumpet_.

Fashion with us is like the man in one of Le Sage's novels, who was constantly changing his servants, and yet had but one suit of livery, which every newcomer, whether he was tall or short, fat or thin, was obliged to wear.

_Wormwood_, in LORD LYTTON's _Pelham_.

Unmarketable maidens of the mart, Who, plumpness gone, fine delicacy feint, And hide your sins in piety and paint.

ALFRED AUSTIN, _The Season_.