The Fiend’s Delight
Poesy
Ye Idyll of Ye Hippopopotamus
With a Methodist hymn in his musical throat,
The Sun was emitting his ultimate note;
His quivering larynx enwrinkled the sea
Like an Ichthyosaurian blowing his tea;
When sweetly and pensively rattled and rang
This plaint which an Hippopopotamus sang:
“O, Camomile, Calabash, Cartilage-pie,
Spread for my spirit a peppermint fry;
Crown me with doughnuts, and drape me with cheese,
Settle my soul with a codliver sneeze.
Lo, how I stand on my head and repine—
Lollipop Lumpkin can never be mine!”
Down sank the Sun with a kick and a plunge,
Up from the wave rose the head of a Sponge;
Ropes in his ringlets, eggs in his eyes,
Tip-tilted nose in a way to surprise.
These the conundrums he flung to the breeze,
The answers that Echo returned to him these:
“Cobblestone, Cobblestone, why do you sigh—
Why do you turn on the tears?”
“My mother is crazy on strawberry jam,
And my father has petrified ears.”
“Liverwort, Liverwort, why do you droop—
Why do you snuffle and scowl?”
“My brother has cockle-burs into his eyes,
And my sister has married an owl.”
“Simia, Simia, why do you laugh—
Why do you cackle and quake?”
“My son has a pollywog stuck in his throat,
And my daughter has bitten a snake.”
Slow sank the head of the Sponge out of sight,
Soaken with sea-water—then it was night.
The Moon had now risen for dinner to dress,
When sweetly the Pachyderm sang from his nest;
He sang through a pestle of silvery shape,
Encrusted with custard—empurpled with crape;
And this was the burden he bore on his lips,
And blew to the listening Sturgeon that sips
From the fountain of opium under the lobes
Of the mountain whose summit in buffalo robes
The winter envelops, as Venus adorns
An elephant’s trunk with a chaplet of thorns:
“Chasing mastodons through marshes upon stilts of light ratan,
Hunting spiders with a shotgun and mosquitoes with an axe,
Plucking peanuts ready roasted from the branches of the oak,
Waking echoes in the forest with our hymns of blessed bosh,
We roamed—my love and I.
By the margin of the fountain spouting thick with clabbered milk,
Under spreading boughs of bass-wood all alive with cooing toads,
Loafing listlessly on boulders of octagonal design,
Standing gracefully inverted with our toes together knit,
We loved—my love and I.”
Hippopopotamus comforts his heart
Biting half-moons out of strawberry tart.
Jerusalem, Old and New
Didymus Dunkleton Doty Don John
Is a parson of high degree;
He holds forth of Sundays to marvelling crowds
Who wonder how vice can still be
When smitten so stoutly by Didymus Don—
Disciple of Calvin is he.
But sinners still laugh at his talk of the New
Jerusalem—ha-ha, te-he!
And biting their thumbs at the doughty Don John—
This parson of high degree—
They think of the streets of a village they know,
Where horses still sink to the knee,
Contrasting its muck with the pavement of gold
That’s laid in the other citee.
They think of the sign that still swings, uneffaced
By winds from the salt, salt sea,
Which tells where he trafficked in tipple, of yore—
Don Dunkleton Johnny, D. D.
Didymus Dunkleton Doty Don John
Still plays on his fiddle-D. D.,
His lambkins still bleat in full psalmody sweet,
And the devil still pitches the key.
Communing with Nature
One evening I sat on a heavenward hill,
The winds were asleep and all nature was still,
Wee children came round me to play at my knee,
As my mind floated rudderless over the sea.
I put out one hand to caress them, but held
With the other my nose, for these cherubim smelled.
I cast a few glances upon the old sun;
He was red in the face from the race he had run,
But he seemed to be doing, for aught I could see,
Quite well without any assistance from me.
And so I directed my wandering eye
Around to the opposite side of the sky,
And the rapture that ever with ecstasy thrills
Through the heart as the moon rises bright from the hills,
Would in this case have been most exceedingly rare,
Except for the fact that the moon was not there.
But the stars looked right lovingly down in the sea,
And, by Jupiter, Venus was winking at me!
The gas in the city was flaring up bright,
Montgomery Street was resplendent with light;
But I did not exactly appear to advance
A sentiment proper to that circumstance.
So it only remains to explain to the town
That a rainstorm came up before I could come down.
As the boots I had on were uncommonly thin
My fancy leaked out as the water leaked in.
Though dampened my ardour, though slackened my strain,
I’ll “strike the wild lyre” who sings the sweet rain!
Conservatism and Progress
Old Zephyr, dawdling in the West,
Looked down upon the sea,
Which slept unfretted at his feet,
And balanced on its breast a fleet
That seemed almost to be
Suspended in the middle air,
As if a magnet held it there,
Eternally at rest.
Then, one by one, the ships released
Their folded sails, and strove
Against the empty calm to press
North, South, or West, or East,
In vain; the subtle nothingness
Was impotent to move.
Then Zephyr laughed aloud to see:—
“No vessel moves except by me,
And, heigh—ho! I shall sleep.”
But lo! from out the troubled North
A tempest strode impatient forth,
And trampled white the deep;
The sloping ships flew glad away,
Laving their heated sides in spray.
The West then turned him red with wrath,
And to the North he shouted:
“Hold there! How dare you cross my path,
As now you are about it?”
The North replied with laboured breath—
His speed no moment slowing:—
“My friend, you’ll never have a path,
Unless you take to blowing.”
About the polls the freedmen drew,
To vote the freemen down;
And merrily their caps up-flew
As Grant rode through the town.
From votes to staves they next did turn,
And beat the freemen down;
Full bravely did their valour burn
As Grant rode through the town.
Then staves for muskets they forsook,
And shot the freemen down;
Right royally their banners shook
As Grant rode through the town.
Hail, final triumph of our cause!
Hail, chief of mute renown!
Grim Magistrate of Silent Laws,
A-riding freedom down!
Sir Muscle speaks, and nations bend the ear:
“Hark ye these Notes—our wit quintuple hear;
Five able-bodied editors combine
Their strength prodigious in each laboured line!”
O wondrous vintner! hopeless seemed the task
To bung these drainings in a single cask;
The riddle’s read—five leathern skins contain
The working juice, and scarcely feel the strain.
Saviours of Rome! will wonders never cease?
A ballad cackled by five tuneful geese!
Upon one Rocinante five stout knights
Ride fiercely into visionary fights!
A cap and bells five sturdy fools adorn,
Five porkers battle for a grain of corn,
Five donkeys squeeze into a narrow stall,
Five tumble-bugs propel a single ball!
Resurgam
Dawns dread and red the fateful morn—
Lo, Resurrection’s Day is born!
The striding sea no longer strides,
No longer knows the trick of tides;
The land is breathless, winds relent,
All nature waits the dread event.
From wassail rising rather late,
Awarding Jove arrives in state;
O’er yawning graves looks many a league,
Then yawns himself from sheer fatigue.
Lifting its finger to the sky,
A marble shaft arrests his eye—
This epitaph, in pompous pride,
Engraven on its polished side:
“Perfection of Creation’s plan,
Here resteth Universal Man,
Who virtues, segregated wide,
Collated, classed, and codified,
Reduced to practice, taught, explained,
And strict morality maintained.
Anticipating death, his pelf
He lavished on this monolith;
Because he leaves nor kin nor kith
He rears this tribute to himself,
That Virtue’s fame may never cease.
Hic jacet—let him rest in peace!”
With sober eye Jove scanned the shaft,
Then turned away and lightly laughed
“Poor Man! since I have careless been
In keeping books to note thy sin,
And thou hast left upon the earth
This faithful record of thy worth,
Thy final prayer shall now be heard:
Of life I’ll not renew thy lease,
But take thee at thy carven word,
And let thee rest in solemn peace!”
Musings, Philosophical and Theological
Seated in his den, in the chill gloom of a winter twilight, comforting his stomach with hoarded bits of cheese and broad biscuits, Mr. Grile thinketh unto himself after this fashion of thought:
I
To eat biscuits and cheese before dining is to confess that you do not expect to dine.
II
“Once bit, twice shy,” is a homely saying, but singularly true. A man who has been swindled will be very cautious the second time, and the third. The fourth time he may be swindled again more easily and completely than before.
III
A four-footed beast walks by lifting one foot at a time, but a four-horse team does not walk by lifting one horse at a time. And yet you cannot readily explain why this is so.
IV
Asked to describe the Deity, a donkey would represent him with long ears and a tail. Man’s conception is higher and truer: he thinks of him as somewhat resembling a man.
V
The bald head of a man is a very common spectacle. You have never seen the bald head of a woman.
VI
Baldheaded women are a very common spectacle.
VII
Piety, like small-pox, comes by infection. Robinson Crusoe, however, caught it alone on his island. It is probable that he had it in his blood.
VIII
The doctrine of foreknowledge does not imply the truth of foreordination. Foreordination is a cause antedating an event. Foreknowledge is an effect, not of something that is going to occur, which would be absurd, but the effect of its being going to occur.
IX
Those who cherish the opposite opinion may be very good citizens.
X
Old shoes are easiest, because they have accommodated themselves to the feet. Old friends are least intolerable because they have adapted themselves to the inferior parts of our character.
XI
Between old friends and old shoes there are other points of resemblance.
XII
Everybody professes to know that it would be difficult to find a needle in a haystack, but very few reflect that this is because haystacks seldom contain needles.
XIII
A man with but one leg is a better man than a man with two legs, for the reason that there is less of him.
XIV
A man without any legs is better than a man with one leg; not because there is less of him, but because he cannot get about to enact so much wickedness.
XV
When an ostrich is pursued he conceals his head in a bush; when a man is pursued he conceals his property. By instinct each knows his enemy’s design.
XVI
There are two things that should be avoided; the deadly upas tree and soda water. The latter will make you puffy and poddy.
XVII
This list of things to be avoided is necessarily incomplete.
XVIII
In calling a man a hog, it is the man who gets angry, but it is the hog who is insulted. Men are always taking up the quarrels of others.
XIX
Give an American a newspaper and a pie and he will make himself comfortable anywhere.
XX
The world of mind will be divided upon the question of baptism so long as there are two simple and effective methods of baptising, and they are equally disagreeable.
XXI
They are not equally disagreeable, but each is disagreeable enough to attract disciples.
XXII
The face of a pig is a more handsome face than the face of a man—in the pig’s opinion.
XXIII
A pig’s opinion upon this question is as likely to be correct as is a man’s opinion.
XXIV
It is better not to take a wife than to take one belonging to some other man: for if she has been a good wife to him she has adapted her nature to his, and will therefore be unsuited to yours. If she has not been a good wife to him she will not be to you.
XXV
The most gifted people are not always the most favoured: a man with twelve legs can derive no benefit from ten of them without crawling like a centipede.
XXVI
A woman and a cow are the two most beautiful creatures in the world. For proof of the beauty of a cow, the reader is referred to an ox; for proof of the beauty of a woman, an ox is referred to the reader.
XXVII
There is reason to believe that a baby is less comely than a calf, for the reason that all kine esteem the calf the more comely beast, and there is one man who does not esteem the baby the more comely beast.
XXVIII
To judge of the wisdom of an act by its result is a very shallow plan. An action is wise or unwise the moment it is decided upon.
XXIX
If the wisdom of an action may not be determined by the result, it is very difficult to determine it.
XXX
It is impossible.
XXXI
The moon always presents the same side to the earth because she is heaviest on that side. The opposite side, however, is more private and secluded.
XXXII
Christians and camels receive their burdens kneeling.
XXXIII
It was never intended that men should be saints in heaven until they are dead and good for nothing else. On earth they are mostly
XXXIV
Fools.
I, Grile, have arranged these primal truths in the order of their importance, in the hope that some patient investigator may amplify and codify them into a coherent body of doctrine, and so establish a new religion. I would do it myself were it not that a very corpulent and most unexpected pudding is claiming my present attention.
O, steaming enigma! O, savoury mountain of hidden mysteries! too long neglected for too long a sermon. Engaging problem, let me reveal the secrets latent in thy breast, and unfold thine occult philosophy! [Cutting into the pudding.] Ah! here, and here alone is—[Eating it.]
Laughorisms
I
When a favourite dog has an incurable pain, you “put him out of his misery” with a bullet or an axe. A favourite child similarly afflicted is preserved as long as possible, in torment. I do not say that this is not right; I claim only that it is not consistent. There are two sorts of kindness; one for dogs, and another for children. A very dear friend, wallowing about in the red mud of a battle-field, once asked me for some of the dog sort. I suspect, if no one had been looking, he would have got it.
II
It is to be feared that to most men the sky is but a concave mirror, showing nothing behind, and in looking into which they see only their own distorted images, like the reflection of a face in a spoon. Hence it needs not surprise that they are not very devout worshippers; it is a great wonder they do not openly scoff.
III
The influence of climate upon civilization has been more exhaustively treated than studied. Otherwise, we should know how it is that some countries that have so much climate have no civilization.
IV
Whoso shall insist upon holding your attention while he expounds to you things that you have always thriven without knowing resembles one who should go about with a hammer, cracking nuts upon other people’s heads and eating the kernels himself.
V
There are but two kinds of temporary insanity, and each has but a single symptom. The one was discovered by a coroner, the other by a lawyer. The one induces you to kill yourself when you are unwell of life; the other persuades you to kill somebody else when you are fatigued of seeing him about.
VI
People who honour their fathers and their mothers have the comforting promise that their days shall be long in the land. They are not sufficiently numerous to make the life assurance companies think it worth their while to offer them special rates.
VII
There are people who dislike to die, for apparently no better reason than that there are a few vices they have not had the time to try; but it must be confessed that the fewer there are of these untasted sweets, the more loth are they to leave them.
VIII
Men ought to sin less in petty details, and more in the lump; that they might the more conveniently be brought to repentance when they are ready. They should imitate the touching solicitude of the lady for the burglar, whom she spares much trouble by keeping her jewels well together in a box.
IX
I once knew a man who made me a map of the opposite hemisphere of the moon. He was crazy. I knew another who taught me what country lay upon the other side of the grave. He was a most acute thinker—as he had need to be.
X
Those who are horrified at Mr. Darwin’s theory, may comfort themselves with the assurance that, if we are descended from the ape, we have not descended so far as to preclude all hope of return.
XI
There is more poison in aphorisms than in painted candy; but it is of a less seductive kind.
XII
If it were as easy to invent a credible falsehood as it is to believe one, we should have little else in print. The mechanical construction of a falsehood is a matter of the gravest import.
XIII
There is just as much true pleasure in walloping one’s own wife as in the sinful enjoyment of another man’s right. Heaven gives to each man a wife, and intends that he shall cleave to her alone. To cleave is either to “split” or to “stick.” To cleave to your wife is to split her with a stick.
XIV
A strong mind is more easily impressed than a weak one: you shall not as readily convince a fool that you are a philosopher, as a philosopher that you are a fool.
XV
In our intercourse with men, their national peculiarities and customs are entitled to consideration. In addressing the common Frenchman take off your hat; in addressing the common Irishman make him take off his.
XVI
It is nearly always untrue to say of a man that he wishes to leave a great property behind him when he dies. Usually he would like to take it along.
XVII
Benevolence is as purely selfish as greed. No one would do a benevolent action if he knew it would entail remorse.
XVIII
If cleanliness is next to godliness, it is a matter of unceasing wonder that, having gone to the extreme limit of the former, so many people manage to stop short exactly at the line of demarcation.
XIX
Most people have no more definite idea of liberty than that it consists in being compelled by law to do as they like.
XX
Every man is at heart a brute, and the greatest injury you can put upon anyone is to provoke him into displaying his nature. No gentleman ever forgives the man who makes him let out his beast.
XXI
The Psalmist never saw the seed of the righteous begging bread. In our day they sometimes request pennies for keeping the street-crossings in order.
XXII
When two wholly irreconcilable propositions are presented to the mind, the safest way is to thank Heaven that we are not like the unreasoning brutes, and believe both.
XXIII
If every malefactor in the church were known by his face it would be necessary to prohibit the secular tongue from crying “stop thief.” Otherwise the church bells could not be heard of a pleasant Sunday.
XXIV
Truth is more deceptive than falsehood, because it is commonly employed by those from whom we do not expect it, and so passes for what it is not.
XXV
“If people only knew how foolish it is” to take their wine with a dash of prussic acid, it is probable that they would—prefer to take it with that addition.
XXVI
“A man’s honour,” says a philosopher, “is the best protection he can have.” Then most men might find a heartless oppressor in the predatory oyster.
XXVII
The canary gets his name from the dog, an animal whom he looks down upon. We get a good many worse things than names from those beneath us; and they give us a bad name too.
XXVIII
Faith is the best evidence in the world; it reconciles contradictions and proves impossibilities. It is wonderfully developed in the blind.
XXIX
He who undertakes an “Account of Idiots in All Ages” will find himself committed to the task of compiling most known biographies. Some future publisher will affix a life of the compiler.
XXX
Gratitude is regarded as a precious virtue, because tendered as a fair equivalent for any conceivable service.
XXXI
A bad marriage is like an electric machine: it makes you dance, but you can’t let go.
XXXII
The symbol of Charity should be a circle. It usually ends exactly where it begins—at home.
XXXIII
Most people redeem a promise as an angler takes in a trout; by first playing it with a good deal of line.
XXXIV
It is a grave mistake to suppose defaulters have no consciences. Some of them have been known, under favourable circumstances, to restore as much as ten percent of their plunder.
XXXV
There is nothing so progressive as grief, and nothing so infectious as progress. I have seen an acre of cemetery infected by a single innovation in spelling cut upon a tombstone.
XXXVI
It is wicked to cheat on Sunday. The law recognises this truth, and shuts up the shops.
XXXVII
In the infancy of our language to be “foolish” signified to be affectionate; to be “fond” was to be silly. We have altered that now: to be “foolish” is to be silly, to be “fond” is to be affectionate. But that the change could ever have been made is significant.
XXXVIII
If you meet a man on the narrow crossing of a muddy street, stand quite still. He will turn out and go round you, bowing his apologies. It is courtesy to accept them.
XXXIX
If every hypocrite in the United States were to break his leg at noon to-day, the country might be successfully invaded at one o’clock by the warlike hypocrites of Canada.
XL
To Dogmatism the Spirit of Inquiry is the same as the Spirit of Evil; and to pictures of the latter it has appended a tail, to represent the note of interrogation.
XLI
We speak of the affections as originating in instinct. This is a miserable subterfuge to shift the obloquy from the judgment.
XLII
What we call decency is custom; what we term indecency is merely customary.
XLIII
The noblest pursuit of Man is the pursuit of Woman.
XLIV
“Immoral” is the solemn judgment of the stalled ox upon the sun-inspired lamb.