EVASIONS OF AMBIGUITY
The Greek Lexicographers
Dr. Henry Liddell, who had become celebrated by his Greek lexicon, was at one time headmaster of Westminster. One day he required the boys in his class to write an English epigram, each to choose his own subject. Among those that were handed in was the following:
Two men wrote a lexicon,
Liddell and Scott;
One-half was clever,
And one-half was not.
Give me the answer, boys,
Quick to this riddle,
Which was by Scott,
And which was by Liddell?
Dr. Liddell, on receiving it, only said, “I think you are rather severe.”
The Religion of Wise Men
John Toland, in his “Clidophorus” (key-bearer), relates an incident which he was told by a near relation of old Lord Shaftesbury. The latter conferring one day with Major Wildman about the many sects of religion in the world, they came to the conclusion at last that notwithstanding the infinite divisions caused by the interest of the priests and the ignorance of the people, all wise men are of the same religion; whereupon a lady in the room demanded with some concern what that religion was? To whom the Lord Shaftesbury straight replied, “Madam, wise men never tell.”
A Deceiver
When Johnny was questioned as to why his engagement with Miss H. had been broken off, he rolled his eyes, looked very much pained, and groaned, “Oh, she turned out a deceiver.” But he forgot to mention that he was the deceiver whom she had turned out.
An Acknowledgment
Richard Brinsley Sheridan, the author of “The School for Scandal,” had a very ingenious manner of answering applicants for literary notice at his hands. He generally wrote, “I have received your book and no doubt shall be delighted after I have read it.” But whether he meant satisfaction with the volume or satisfaction at the close of a tedious task was what no one could find out.
An Artful Dodger
When Talleyrand was Minister for Foreign Affairs, and there was a report in Paris of the death of George III., a banker, full of speculative anxieties, asked him if it was true. “Some say,” he replied, “that the King of England is dead; others say that he is not dead; but do you wish to know my opinion?” “Most anxiously, Prince.” “Well, then, I believe neither. I mention this in confidence to you; but I rely on your discretion: the slightest imprudence on your part would compromise me most seriously.”
On another occasion, when Talleyrand sat at dinner between Madame de Staël and Madame Récamier, the celebrated beauty, Madame de Staël, whose beauties were certainly not those of the person, jealous of his attentions to her rival, insisted upon knowing which he would save if they were both drowning. After seeking in vain to evade her, he at last turned toward her and said, with his usual shrug, “Ah, madame, vous savez nager” (you know how to swim).
Rouge
St. Francis de Sales being consulted by a lady on the lawfulness of wearing rouge, replied, “Some persons may object to it, and others may see no harm in it, but I shall take a middle course, by allowing you to rouge on one cheek.”
A Difference
A judge, reprimanding a criminal, called him a scoundrel. The prisoner, “Sir, I am not as big a scoundrel as your honor”—here the culprit stopped, but finally added—“takes me to be.” “Put your words closer together,” said the judge.
Which?
A certain lawyer was compelled to apologize to the court. With stately dignity he rose in his place and said, “Your Honor is right and I am wrong, as your Honor generally is.” There was a dazed look in the judge’s eye, and he hardly knew whether to feel happy or fine the lawyer for contempt of court.
Divine Service
A lady who greatly admired Dr. Chalmers’s preaching, and was much addicted to pursuing popular orators, sent him her compliments one Sunday morning and begged to know if he intended to preach that day at St. George’s. The worthy doctor answered, “Tell Lady —— that there certainly is to be Divine Service in St. George’s Church to-day.”
Doubtful Compliment
At a printers’ festival the following toast was offered: “Woman! second only to the press in the dissemination of news.” The ladies are yet undecided whether to regard this as a compliment or otherwise.
King or Pretender?
The following epigram, though popularly attributed to Jonathan Swift at the time it appeared, was written by John Byron. On one occasion, during the rising of 1745, when Manchester had eagerly embraced the cause of Prince Charles, Byron, in a mixed company, being asked to drink the king’s health, cautiously replied,—
God bless the King! I mean our faith’s defender;
God bless—no harm in blessing—the Pretender;
But who Pretender is, or who is King,—
God bless us all! that’s quite another thing.
A Legal Question
In the Greek Anthology we are told of an unhappy man who went to Diodorus for advice and instruction about the children of a female slave. The following metrical version of the case is by Merivale:
A plaintiff thus explained his cause
To counsel learned in the laws.
“My bond-maid lately ran away,
And in her flight was met by A,
Who, knowing she belonged to me,
Espoused her to his servant B.
The issue of this marriage, pray,
Do they belong to me or A?”
The lawyer, true to his vocation,
Gave signs of deepest cogitation;
Looked at a score of books, or near,
Then hemmed and said, “Your case is clear.
Those children, so begot by B
Upon your bond-maid, must, you see,
Be yours or A’s. Now this, I say,
They can’t be yours, if they to A
Belong. It follows then, of course,
That if they are not his, they’re yours.
Therefore, by my advice, in short,
You take the opinion of the Court.”
A Judge Like Solomon
Two cows went astray at Newport News, Virginia. One belonged to a negro, and the other to a white man named Shields. A cow answering the description of either of the two animals was purchased by a farmer not long after. The bereaved men heard of the purchase, and each claimed the animal and presented proof equally convincing. The case came up before a judge and the jury heard the evidence, but as the witnesses for each party described the same cow, they were unable to give a decision. Then the judge said he would turn the cow out on the green. If she went toward the negro’s farm she should be his, if she went toward Shields’s farm she should be his. The cow was turned out, but she found the grass so satisfying that she went neither way.
The Butchers
When Napoleon I. came, after a series of victories, to visit annexed Belgium, he found, on entering Ghent, a triumphal arch erected by the guild of butchers, inscribed: “The little butchers of Ghent to Napoleon the great” (butcher). The deacon of the guild had asked a clever nobleman (who loathed Napoleon) to write the inscription, the sarcasm in which the worthy deacon did not detect.
Meeting the Difficulty
Merivale tells a story of a Quaker who lived in a country town in England. He was rich and benevolent, and always responsive to appeals for purposes of local charity and usefulness. The townspeople wanted to rebuild their parish church, which was falling into decay, and a committee was appointed to raise the funds. It was agreed that the Friend could not be asked to subscribe towards an object so contrary to his principles; but then, on the other hand, so true and public-spirited a friend to the town might take it amiss if he was not at least consulted on a matter of such general interest. So one of their number went and explained to him their project; the old church was to be removed, and such and such steps were to be taken towards the construction of a new one.
“Thee is right,” said the Quaker, “in supposing that my principles would not allow me to assist in building a church. But did thee not say something about pulling down a church? Thee may put my name down for a hundred pounds.”
A Tough Witness
Not even a lawyer, however skilful in cross-examination, can make a witness tell the truth, provided the witness wishes to evade it. It is impossible to put the question in such exact language that it will demand the desired answer. It was necessary, on a certain occasion in court, to compel a witness to testify as to the way in which a Mr. Smith treated his horse. “Well, sir,” said the lawyer, with a sweet and winning smile—a smile intended to drown all suspicion as to the ulterior purposes—“how does Mr. Smith generally ride a horse?” The witness looked up innocently and replied: “Generally a-straddle, sir, I believe.” The lawyer asked again: “But, sir, what gait does he ride?” The imperturbable witness answered, “He never rides any gate at all, sir; but I’ve seen his boys ride every gate on the farm.” The lawyer saw he was on the track of a Tartar, and his next question was very insinuating. “How does Mr. Smith ride when he is in company with others? I demand a clear answer.” “Well, sir,” said the witness, “he keeps up with the rest if his horse is able to, or if not he falls behind.” The lawyer by this time was almost beside himself, and asked: “And how does he ride when he is alone?” “I don’t know,” was the reply, “I never was with him when he was alone,” and there the case dropped.
Shifting Responsibility
There is something of the shrewd humor of the Oriental cadi, says the Pall Mall Gazette, in the decision of a Russian stipendiary magistrate, a report of which comes from Odessa. It appears that a new cemetery was about to be opened near that city, and that two Greek merchants, each anxious to secure the most comfortable or most distinguished resting-place, were allowed by some official blunder to buy the same allotment. When the mistake was discovered neither would yield his claim, and the matter was referred to the district judge. Greek had met Greek, and the tug of war threatened to be severe, when the magistrate, with an astuteness worthy of Solomon, arranged the matter in the simplest way possible, by applying the rule, “First come, first served,” and suggesting that whichever died first should have the right to the coveted resting-place. The parties went away reconciled and happy. It is not stated whether they had to find sureties to guarantee that neither would take an unfair advantage of the other by committing suicide.
Erskine’s Pleasantry
Lord Erskine was in the habit of making a very effective pause in all letters replying to solicitation for subscriptions. He wrote:
“Sir: I feel much honored by your application to me, and I beg to subscribe”—here the reader had to turn over the leaf—“myself your very obedient servant,” etc. One of the best instances of this form of pause occurred in a letter received by a popular physician. This gentleman was pleased with a certain aërated water, and by his recommendations he managed to secure for it some celebrity. For this he expected neither reward nor thanks. Imagine his surprise, therefore, when he received one day from the makers of the aërated water an effusive letter, stating that his kind recommendations had done so much good that they ventured to send a hundred—(here the page turned over). “This will never do,” said the doctor. “It is very kind, but I will never think of accepting anything.” Here he turned the page and found the sentence ran—“of our circulars for distribution.”
Mortuary Word-Play
Equivocal forms of expression find their way into church-yard literature, as in the following examples:
Maria Brown, wife of Timothy Brown, aged eighty years. She lived with her husband fifty years, and died in the confident hope of a better life.
Here lies Bernard Lightfoot, who was accidentally killed in the forty-fifth year of his age. This monument was erected by his grateful family.
Here lies —— who died —— aged — years.
The Lord gave, and the Lord hath taken away.
Blessed be the name of the Lord.