CLASSICAL PUNS AND MOTTOES.
Sydney Smith proposed as a motto for Bishop Burgess, brother to the well-known fish-sauce purveyor, the following Virgilian pun (Æn. iv. 1),—
Gravi jamdudum saucia curâ.
A London tobacconist, who had become wealthy, and determined to set up his carriage, applied to a learned gentleman for a motto. The scholar gave him the Horatian question,—
QUID RIDES?
(Why do you laugh?—Sat. I. 69)—
which was accordingly adopted, and painted on the panel.
A pedantic bachelor had the following inscription on his tea-caddy:—
TU DOCES.
(Thou Tea-chest.)
Epitaph on a Cat, ascribed to Dr. Johnson (Hor. lib. i., c. 12):—
MI-CAT INTER OMNES.
Two gentlemen about to enter an unoccupied pew in a church, the foremost found it locked. His companion, not perceiving it at the moment, inquired why he retreated. “Pudor vetat” said he. (Modesty forbids.)
A gentleman at dinner requested a friend to help him to a potato, which he did, saying, “I think you will find that a good mealy one.” “Thank you,” quoth the other: “it could not be melior” (better).
A student of Latin, being confined to his room by illness, was called upon by a friend. “What, John,” said the visitor, “sick, eh?” “Yes,” replied John, “sic sum” (so I am).
In King’s College were two delinquents named respectively Payne and Culpepper. Payne was expelled, but Culpepper escaped punishment. Upon this, a wit wrote the following apt line:—
Pœna perire potest; Culpa perennis est.
Andrew Borde, author of the Breviary of Health, called himself in Latin Andreas Perforatus. This translation of a proper name was according to the fashion of the time, but in this instance includes a pun,—perforatus, bored or pierced.
Joseph II., Emperor of Germany, during a visit to Rome, went to see the princess Santacroce, a young lady of singular beauty, who had an evening conversazione. Next morning appeared the following pasquinade. “Pasquin asks, ‘What is the Emperor Joseph come to Rome for?’ Marforio answers, ‘Abaciar la Santa Croce’”—to kiss the Holy Cross.
On the trial of Garnett, the Superior of the Jesuits, for his participation in the Gunpowder Plot, Coke, then Attorney-General, concluded his speech thus:—Qui cum Jesu itis, non itis cum Jesuitis.
A few years ago, several Jesuits came into the lecture-room of an Italian professor in the University of Pisa, believing he was about to assail a favorite dogma of theirs. He commenced his lecture with the following words,—
“Quanti Gesuiti sono all’ inferno!”
(How many Jesuits there are in hell!)
When remonstrated with, he said that his words were—
“Quanti—Gesu!—iti sono all’ inferno!”
(How many people, O Jesus! there are in hell!)
D’Israeli says that Bossuet would not join his young companions, and flew to his solitary tasks, while the classical boys avenged themselves by a schoolboy’s pun; applying to Bossuet Virgil’s bos suet-us aratro—the ox daily toiling in the plough.
John Randolph of Virginia, and Mr. Dana of Connecticut, while fellow-members of Congress, belonged to different political parties. On one occasion Mr. Dana paid some handsome compliments to Mr. Randolph. When the latter spoke in reply, he quoted from Virgil (Æn. ii.):—
Timeo Danaos et dona ferentes.
A lady having accidentally thrown down a Cremona fiddle with her mantua, Dean Swift instantly remarked,—
“Mantua væ miseræ nimium vicina Cremonæ.”
Ah, Mantua, too near the wretched Cremona. (Virg. Ecl. ix. 28.)
To an old gentleman who had lost his spectacles one rainy evening, the Dean said, “If this rain continues all night, you will certainly recover them in the morning betimes:
“Nocte pluit tota—redeunt spectacula mane.” (Virgil.)
Quid facies facies veneris si veneris ante?
Ne pereas pereas, ne sedeas, sedeas.
(What will you do if you shall come before the face of Venus? Lest you should perish through them, do not sit down, but go away.)
Sir William Dawes, Archbishop of York, was very fond of a pun. His clergy dining with him for the first time after he had lost his wife, he told them he feared they did not find things in so good order as they used to be in the time of poor Mary; and, looking extremely sorrowful, added with a deep sigh, “she was indeed mare pacificum.” A curate who knew pretty well what her temper had been, said, “Yes, my lord, but she was mare mortuum first.”
That Homer should a bankrupt be,
Is not so very ODD D’YE SEE,
If it be true as I’m instructed,
So ILL HE HAD his books conducted.