"Magister Martinus de Dacia, surnamed Magni Filius, which signifies 'Son of the Great,'" said the half-learned jester, pedantically. "No learned man would condescend to call himself Master Morten Mogesen, after having once passed to the other side of the isthmus." Here he suddenly assumed the grave demeanour of a schoolman, drew himself up, and spoke in a kind of mysterious whisper.
"Capital! there we have the man exactly!" exclaimed the count, laughing.
Maintaining the same posture, the jester began a discourse, full of logical terms, on the importance of adequately understanding the Martinian modi significandi in logica.[[12]]
The complete caricature of the famous Master Martin's entire mode and manner, as well as of his voice and countenance, amused Count Gerhard exceedingly: he held his sides, and laughed until tears ran from his eyes. The two young knights belonging to his train also laughed immoderately; and Drost Peter smiled in spite of himself, notwithstanding that the jest highly displeased and vexed him.
"I must confess, sir count," he said, gravely, as soon as the general laughter permitted him to speak, "your jester perfectly understands how to make sensible people ridiculous, by imitating and exaggerating their personal defects and foibles, excluding, however, whatever is worthy and honourable in their character, which grimacing cannot counterfeit. In my young days, this was called making faces at people, and, as a malicious kind of waggery, was rewarded with a switch and a sound drubbing. The famous Master Martin is my preceptor and confessor; and those who, after this explanation, continue to jeer or find fault with him, were it even yourself, illustrious count, shall have to do with me, as long as I can move an arm or raise my knightly sword."
"Now, you must permit me to indulge my humour at your own expense, sir drost," replied the count, still laughing. "Are people in Denmark such barbarians, that they have neither sense to enjoy the frank mimic art themselves, nor allow others to be amused with it? What signify to me your learned confessor's virtues, when I require only his follies to promote my health and exercise my lungs in an innocent, good-natured manner? If, indeed, we must fall out about that, sir knight, at the proper time and place it will afford me an excellent joke; but as I never fight for trifles in the morning, or upon an empty stomach, we can, if it please you, defer it until we have had dinner at Odense. In the meanwhile, let me assure you that I have a great esteem for your learned Master Martin, and heartily believe him to be a worthy and distinguished man."
"Whom I honour and esteem, I can never make a jest of," replied Drost Peter, zealously. "It may, perhaps, be the fashion in other countries; but, praise to God, we Danes do not yet understand it."
"That is, indeed, a fault with all of you," replied the count; "and therefore you are often, with injustice, regarded as simple-minded, although, in fact, it is only the want of a gay, light humour. You are, in consequence, as much one-sided in your praise as in your blame. Human nature is not yet perfect. It promotes truth, and nourishes humility, when one has an eye for the defective as well as for the excellent, as they lie in heaps in this fair, comical world. I know no one who has not his folly and his ridiculous side: with the most distinguished men, this is the more perceptible; and my best friends may perceive that I laugh at what is ridiculous in them, while I respect their virtues as they deserve. The same freedom I allow to every one who knows me; and, should you ever feel disposed to laugh at my expense, you will see that it does not annoy me. Come, Daddy Longlegs, show this gentleman how I behave myself when seriousness turns me crazy."
The jester bowed upon his horse in a respectful manner, and then assumed a comical expression of great good humour, which speedily passed from laughter to the deepest earnestness, and, from that, to the most uncontrollable fury. To carry out this farce in a fitting manner, he drew his wooden sword, and attacked the company, without distinction, like a madman.
"Hold, hold! Enough, Longlegs! You will drive our horses wild, and that will be confoundedly bad," shouted the count, reining in his steed with difficulty, while he laughed, and rubbed his left arm, upon which the jester had dealt him a blow.