English Jests and Anecdotes

CONTENTMENT

It is told of Lord Muskery, that when on his death-bed, in reviewing his past life, he said, “that he had nothing to reproach himself with, having never through life denied himself any thing.”

CHEAP LIVING

A man of respectable appearance made a boast of how his eating cost him almost nothing. “On Sunday,” said he, “I always dine with an old friend, and then eat so much that it lasts until Wednesday, when I buy some tripe, which I hate like the devil, and which makes me so sick that I can eat nothing more till Sunday again.”

DUTCH POLITENESS

A Dutch commercial house in writing to their correspondents in London, concluded their letter as follows: – “Sugars are falling more and more every day; not so the respect and esteem with which we are, &c., &c.”

SMITH THE NABOB

General Smith, the celebrated Nabob, formed one of a shooting party. During luncheon he enlarged on his want of success, and as an excuse for his bad shooting alleged that he had “spoilt his hand by shooting pea-cocks with the Great Mogul.” On another occasion having invited a large number of friends to his country seat, he had to write putting off the engagement saying, “I find my damned fellow of a steward has, in the meantime, sold the estate.”

LORD KENYON’S PARSIMONY

Some one remarking on the inaccuracy of the inscription on Lord Kenyon’s tomb, Mors janna vita, in the hearing of Lord Ellenborough, the latter remarked that that had been done by Lord Kenyon’s express desire, as he left it in his will that they should not go to the expense of a diphthong.

MISTAKEN

An old gentleman having fallen sound asleep at the fireside was awakened suddenly by the clatter of the fire-irons all tumbling down, and immediately exclaimed, “What! going to bed without one kiss,” thinking it was the children.

THE POOR AUTHOR AND HIS PUBLISHER

A poor author received an account from his publisher among the items of which was, “Cellarage, £3 10s. 6d.” He naturally concluded that this was a charge for the trouble of selling the 700 copies which formed the edition, but on further enquiry learned that it was the charge for cellar-room, as not a copy had stirred from thence.

DONELLY, THE CHAMPION

Donelly, the famous Irish champion, had a great fight on at the Curragh. Miss Kelly, a young lady of fine behaviour, had followed him thither, and had wagered her gold watch and chain and her coach and four that he would win. At one time Donelly was getting the worst of it when she exclaimed, “Oh, Donelly, would you have me go back on foot and not know the hour?” on which he rallied and won.

NOVEL WAY TO AVOID PAYING A DEBT

During the French war, Mr. Pitt was informed by a person named Forth that there were two persons on their way from the north of Europe to assassinate him. Measures were accordingly taken to track their progress, they were seized at Brussells and lay in confinement there for a long time. It afterwards came to be known that instead of being assassins, they were creditors of Forth’s, who were on their way to have him arrested for a large sum, and he took this method to get quit of them.

PAGANINI

Tom Moore who was present at an opera in London where Paganini performed, writes thus: – “Paganini abuses his powers; he could play divinely, and does sometimes, for a minute or two, but then comes his surprises and his tricks, his bow in convulsions, and his inharmonics like the mewlings of an expiring cat.”

EPITAPH

Lord Ashburnham was accustomed to quote the following epitaph which he had come across in a country churchyard as a perfect exemplification of poetry, piety, and politeness:

“You who stand around my grave,
And say, ‘His life is gone;’
You are mistaken – pardon me —
My life is but begun.”

COLERIDGE, THE POET

Coleridge was lodging at Ramsgate, where his reputation as a poet was known. The servant-maid entering his room, informed him that he was wanted, there being a person at the door inquiring for a poet, on going out he found it was the pot-boy from the public-house, whose cry of “Any pots for the Angel?” the girl had mistaken for a demand for a poet.

JOHN KEMBLE’S RIVAL

John Kemble in performing one of his favourite parts at a country theatre was much interrupted by a squalling baby. Able to endure the rival performance no longer, he walked with solemn step to the front of the stage, and addressing the audience in his most tragic tones, said, “Ladies and gentlemen, unless the play is stopped the child cannot possibly go on.”

APPETITE OF LOUIS XIV

“I have seen the king,” says a writer of memoirs, “not once, but often, eat four plates of different soups, an entire pheasant, a partridge, a dish full of salad, a piece of ham, a slice of mutton with gravy, and large quantities of all kinds of confitures.”

IGNORANCE OF A FRENCH CURÉ

A French Curé, in a sequestrated part of the south of France, inquired of an English traveller whether English women wore rings in their noses? to which he replied, “that, in the north of England, near China, it was possible they might, but certainly not in London.”

WORDSWORTH’S OPINION OF HIMSELF

Among his contemporaries, Wordsworth was generally thought to entertain a very high opinion of himself. At a large dinner party where Sir Humphry Davy was present, he suddenly, in the most epic tone, called from the top of the table to the bottom, “Davy!” and on Davy putting forth his head in awful expectation of what was coming, said, “Do you know why I published the ‘White Doe’ in quarto?” “No, what was it?” “To show the world my own opinion of it.”

A COUNTRY DINNER

On a certain occasion Sydney Smith set off to dine with a neighbouring clergyman. After toiling along a dusty road, he reached the parsonage hungry and weary. Seated in a small hot-room, a stripling opened the door and beckoned our host out of the room. In a short time he returned looking greatly distressed, saying, “The woman assisting in the kitchen had mistaken the soup for dirty water, and had thrown it out, and so we must do without it.” At last, dinner was announced to our great joy, but, oh ye gods, as we entered the dining room what a gale met our nose! the venison was high, the venison was uneatable, and was obliged to follow on the soup with all speed.

THE HIGHLANDER AND SIR SYDNEY SMITH

Sir James Mackintosh on one occasion went to sup with Sydney Smith, accompanied by a raw Scotch cousin, an ensign in a Highland regiment. On hearing the name of his host, he nudged Sir James and enquired in an audible whisper, “Is that the great Sir Sydney?” “Yes, yes,” said Sir James, and giving Sydney, the hint, he at once assumed the military character, performed the part of the hero of Acre to perfection, fought all the battles over again, and showed how he had charged the Turk, to the infinite delight of the young Scotsman, who was charmed with the kindness and condescension of the great Sir Sydney. Meanwhile, however, the other guests were suffering severe torture and nearly burst with suppressing laughter. In return for the kindness he had received, nothing would content the young Highlander but that he must set off about twelve o’clock at night to fetch the piper of the regiment to pipe to the “Great Sir Sydney,” who said he had never heard the bagpipes. Before he returned, the company had dispersed. Sir James declaring he would be decapitated if he remained. A few days after this occurrence Sir James and his cousin met Sydney Smith, with his wife leaning on his arm. He introduced her as his wife, upon which the young Highlander whispered to Sir James, and looking at the lady, “I did na ken the great Sir Sydney was married.” “Why, no,” said Sir James, winking at him, “not ex-act-ly married – only an Egyptian slave he brought over with him; Fatima, you know, you understand.”

SYDNEY SMITH’S COUNTRY COUSIN

A country cousin used sometimes to visit Sydney Smith – a simple, warm-hearted rustic. It was his custom occasionally to have some of his friends to supper, and on their arrival she would come to him and whisper, “Now Sydney, I know that these are all remarkable men, do tell me who they are?” “Oh, yes,” said he, laughing. “That is Hannibal,” pointing to Mr. Whishaw, “he lost his leg in the Carthagenian war; and that is Socrates,” pointing to Luttrell; “and that is Solon,” pointing to Horner. The girl opened her ears, eyes, and mouth with admiration, yet half believing that Sydney was making fun of her.

SCOTTISH METAPHYSICS

The Scottish people are thought to be so imbued with metaphysics, that even in love the passion discovers itself. On one occasion at a ball, Sydney Smith overheard a young lady of his acquaintance, in a pause in the music, remark to her partner, “What you say, my lord, is very true in the abstract, but – ” here the fiddlers began, and the rest was lost.

DESIRE TO ROAST A QUAKER

Sydney Smith confessed to a friend that he had one little weakness – one secret wish – “he should like to roast a Quaker.” “Good heavens, no, Smith!” said his friend full of horror, “roast a Quaker?” “Yes, sir” (with the greatest gravity), “roast a Quaker!” “But do you consider, sir, the torture?” “Yes, I have considered everything; it may be wrong, as you say; the Quaker would undoubtedly suffer acutely, I have striven against the taste in vain, one would satisfy me – only one!”

MASTER DOMINIQUE

A gentleman called Tenant was a favourite in London society early in this century, the mysteries of whose menage often afforded amusement to his friends. He lived in a small lodging, and his establishment was confined to an old black servant called Dominique, who tyrannised over him. He was overheard one morning calling from his bed, “Dominique! Dominique!” but no Dominique appeared. “Why don’t you bring me my stockings, Dominique?” “Can’t come, Massa.” “Why can’t you come, Dominique?” “Can’t come, Massa, I am dronke.”

APPROPRIATE ANSWERS

A man being asked did he understand German, answered, “No, but I have a cousin who plays the German flute.” Another enquiring at a bookseller, if he had the “Whole duty of man,” got for answer, “No, sir, but we have Mrs. Glasse’s cookery!”

SYDNEY SMITH’S SERVANTS

Sydney Smith had for an attendant in his time a clean, fair, squat, tidy little girl about twelve years of age named Bunch. Mrs. Marcet, who was staying in the house, met her host at the foot of the stair when Bunch was passing. Mr. Smith suddenly said, “Bunch, do you like roast duck or boiled chicken?” Bunch had probably never tasted either the one or the other in her life, but answered without a moment’s hesitation, “Roast duck please, sir,” and disappeared. I laughed. “You may laugh,” said he, “but you have no idea of the labour it has cost me to give her that decision of character. The Yorkshire peasantry are the quickest and shrewdest in the world, but you can never get a direct answer from them; if you ask them even their own names, they always scratch their heads and say, ‘A’s sur ai don’t knaw, sir;’ but I have brought Bunch to such perfection that she never hesitates now on any subject, however difficult. I am very strict with her. Would you like to hear her repeat her crimes? She has them by heart and repeats them everyday.” “Come here, Bunch!” (calling out to her), “come and repeat your crimes to Mrs. Marcet;” and Bunch, quite as a matter of course, as grave as a judge, without the least hesitation, and with a loud voice began to repeat – “Plate-snatching, gravy-spilling, door-slamming, blue-bottle fly-catching and curtsey-bobbing.” “Explain to Mrs. Marcet what blue-bottle fly-catching is.” “Standing with my mouth open and not attending, sir.” “And what is curtsey-bobbing?” “Curtseying to the centre of the earth, please sir.” “Good girl! now you may go.” “She makes a capital waiter, I assure you. On state occasions, Jack Robinson, my carpenter, takes off his apron and waits too, and does pretty well, but he sometimes naturally makes a mistake, and sticks a gimlet into the bread instead of a fork.”