21 On being told that a gentleman who had been very unhappy in marriage married again immediately after his wife died, Johnson observed that it was the triumph of hope over experience.
22 Dr. Johnson’s attention was one directed to the discrepancy between the epitaph that had been carved upon the tombstone of a certain gentleman and the way in which the deceased had actually conducted his life. With typical wryness, the doctor observed that “in lapidary inscriptions a man is not upon oath.”
23 Johnson’s wife in later years insisted that her failing health made it impossible for her to sleep with him, and Johnson’s friends accordingly commiserated with him on this “conjugal infelicity.” Garrick related a conversation with Johnson in which, when asked what was the greatest pleasure in life, “he answered fucking and the second was drinking. And therefore he wondered why there were not more drunkards, for all could drink tho’ all could not fuck.”
24 Pestered once too often by Boswell for minute biographical data, Johnson snapped, “Sir, you have but two topics, yourself and me. I am sick of both!”
25 A very disdainful young man was introduced to the elderly Johnson and looking at him closely said, “Tell me, Doctor, what would you give to be as young and sprightly as I am?”
“Why, sir,” replied the doctor, “I should almost be content to be as foolish and conceited.”
JOHNSON, Sir William (1715–74), British soldier and administrator of American Indian affairs.
1 Sir William Johnson had ordered some suits of rich clothing from England. When they were unpacked, the Mohawk chief Hendrick admired them greatly. Shortly afterward he told Sir William that he had had a dream in which Sir William had given him one of the suits. Sir William took the hint and presented Hendrick with one of the handsomest outfits. Not long after that when Sir William and Hendrick were again together, Sir William said that he too had had a dream. Hendrick asked him what it was. Sir William explained that he had dreamed that Hendrick had presented him with a certain tract of land on the Mohawk River, comprising about five thousand acres of the most fertile terrain. Immediately Hendrick presented the land to Sir William, remarking as he did so that he would dream no more with him. “You dream too hard for me, Sir William,” he observed.
JOLLEY, Smead (1902–91), US baseball player, known for his good hitting and bad fielding.
1 Smead Jolley could hit, but the problem was finding a position for him where he could get by in the field. He was being tried as an outfielder in Boston’s Fenway Park, where there was an incline leading to the wall. The coaches worked with him at running back and taking the little hill in stride, when he had to go to the wall to catch a fly ball. In the game Jolley ran back for one, but went too far. Realizing this, he came forward again, down the incline, and fell flat on his face. The ball hit him on the head and bounced away. Afterward Jolley came to the bench, rubbing his head and muttering, “Ten days you guys spend teaching me how to go up the hill and there isn’t one of you with the brains to teach me how to come down.”
JOLSON, Al [Asa Yoelson] (1886–1950), US singer and songwriter, born in Russia.
1 At one point during the making of The Jazz Singer, Al Jolson called out to the technicians and extras on the set, “Wait a minute! Wait a minute! You ain’t heard nothin’ yet.” The unscripted words went into the sound track, from which they were due to be cut. By a last-minute decision they were left in, and became part of movie history.
JONES, James (1921–77), US author.
1 While fighting in the Pacific in World War II, Jones was hit in the head by fragments of a Japanese shell. He was taken to the hospital, where a doctor looked at him bloody and disoriented and said, “Getting more material for that book of yours you’re going to write?” Jones replied, “More than I want, Doc.”
2 Shortly after the publication of From Here to Eternity, Jones was known to carry around with him a pocketful of envelopes, each containing 67 cents, which he handed to friends who had bought a copy of his book. “That’s my royalty on each copy,” he explained. “I don’t want to make money on my friends.”
3 Jones, whose novel From Here to Eternity had made him a rich man, lived in Paris while he wrote The Thin Red Line. As he worked on an especially emotional scene, which had Jones in tears, a large wrestler employed by the local laundry knocked on his door to collect the laundry bill. When Jones answered the door still crying, the man mistook the reason for Jones’s tears. “It’s okay,” he said. “You no have to pay now.”
4 Jones had a love of practical jokes. He and his friends liked a certain café in Paris, where the owner, Jean Castel, was strangely haunted by a filthy old woman who stood outside the front door shouting insults at customers and playing an out-of-tune mandolin. Eventually Castel had to get away, and flew to Tahiti on vacation to escape her torments. But when he arrived at the airport, the old lady was standing at the foot of the ramp, playing her mandolin and singing, “Welcome to Tahiti, M. Castel!” Jones’s group had chipped in to get her a ticket there as well.
JONES, John Paul (1747–92), US sailor of Scots origin.
1 On September 23, 1779, off Flamborough Head in northeast England, Jones, sailing the rather ramshackle Le Bonhomme Richard, encountered a convoy of British merchantmen under the escort of the royal naval ship Serapis. The commander of the Serapis, Richard Pearson, recognized the Richard and attacked. His ship battered by forty-four hostile guns, Jones closed on his enemy and lashed the Richard’s bowsprit to the mizzen-mast of the Serapis. The sides of the Richard had been so pounded by the Serapis’s guns that Pearson sent a signal inviting Jones to surrender. Back came the immortal reply, “I have not yet begun to fight.”
2 When Pearson eventually returned to England, the loss of the Serapis was forgotten in the general praise for the heroic fight he had put up. Despite his ill luck, he received a knighthood. When Jones heard that his opponent had been made a knight, he remarked, “Should I have the good fortune to fall in with him again, I’ll make a lord of him.”
JONSON, Ben (1572–1637), British dramatist.
1 When Ben Jonson asked his benefactor, Charles I of England, for a square foot in hallowed Westminster Abbey after he died, that is exactly what he got. He was buried in an upright position in order that he take up no more space than he had bargained for.
2 A certain Sir John Young, who happened to be in Westminster Abbey when Jonson’s grave was being covered over, paid the mason 18 pence to inscribe upon the gravestone the words: “O rare Ben Jonson.” It was later thought that the first two words of the inscription should have been joined together as the Latin word orare (pray). The epitaph would then translate as “Pray for Ben Jon-son.”
JORDAN, Michael (1963–), US basketball player.
1 At the end of an All-Star game Jordan threw a full-court shot that barely missed the basket. When asked if he actually thought the shot would go in, he replied, “I expect them all to go in.”
JOWETT, Benjamin (1817–93), English classical scholar.
1 Jowett was once approached by a rather conceited young student. “Master,” he said, “I have searched everywhere in all philosophies, ancient and modern, and nowhere do I find the evidence of a God.” Jowett, who had little time for such pretentious attitudes, issued the following ultimatum: “If you don’t find a God by five o’clock this afternoon you must leave the college.”
2 Jowett once submitted a matter to a vote of the dons of Balliol College. The result did not please him, he announced. “The vote is twenty-two to two. I see we are deadlocked.”
JOYCE, James (1882–1941), Irish novelist, author of Ulysses and Finnegans Wake.
1 In his impoverished youth, Joyce once applied for a job in a bank. “Do you smoke?” asked the bank manager.
“No,” replied his would-be employee.
“Do you drink?”
“No.”
“Do you go with girls?”
“No.”
The manager was unimpressed by this display of virtue. “Away with
you!” he cried. “You’d probably rob the bank.”
2 (The story of the first meeting in Dublin between the youthful James Joyce and William Butler Yeats, then at the height of his poetic powers, exists in a number of versions. George Russell wrote from memory a version of this encounter that is published in Richard Ellmann’s biography of Joyce.)
“Yeats asked Joyce to read him some of his poems. ‘I do so since you ask me,’ said Joyce, ‘but I attach no more importance to your opinion than to anybody one meets in the street.’ Yeats made him some compliments on the verses, which were charming. But Joyce waved aside the praise. ‘It is likely both you and I will soon be forgotten.’ He then questioned Yeats about some of his later poetry. Yeats began an elaborate and subtle explanation, the essence of which was that in youth he thought everything should be perfectly beautiful but now he thought one might do many things by way of experiment. ‘Ah,’ said the boy, ‘that shows how rapidly you are deteriorating.’ He parted with Yeats with a last shaft. ‘We have met too late. You are too old for me to have any effect on you.’”
3 A woman was singing one evening at a private gathering, when a moth headed straight for her open mouth. She stopped abruptly, and there was an awkward silence, broken by Joyce’s saying, “The desire of the moth for the star.”
4 When Joyce was sitting for the painter Patrick Tuohy, the artist “began to philosophize about the importance to an artist of capturing his subject’s soul. Joyce replied, ‘Never mind my soul. Just be sure you have my tie right.’”
5 Asked about the demands his writing made upon the reader, Joyce replied, “The demand I make of my reader is that he should devote his whole life to reading my works.”
6 “Joyce had no patience with monuments. Valery Larbaud said to him as they drove in a taxi in Paris past the Arc de Triomphe with its eternal fire, ‘How long do you think that will burn?’ Joyce answered, ‘Until the Unknown Soldier gets up in disgust and blows it out.’ ”
7 “When a young man came up to him in Zurich and said, ‘May I kiss the hand that wrote Ulysses?’ Joyce replied, somewhat like King Lear, ‘No, it did lots of other things too.’ ”
8 “One night drinking with Ottocaro Weiss, who had returned from the army in January 1919, he sampled a white Swiss wine called Fendant de Sion. This seemed to be the object of his quest, and after drinking it with satisfaction, he lifted the half-emptied glass, held it against the window like a test tube, and asked Weiss, ‘What does this remind you of?’ Weiss looked at Joyce and at the pale golden liquid and replied, ‘Orina.’ ‘Si,’ said Joyce laughing, ‘ma di un’arciduchessa’ (‘yes, but an archduchess’s’). From now on the wine was known as the Archduchess, and is so celebrated in Finnegans Wake.”
9 “Once or twice Joyce dictated a bit of Finnegans Wake to Samuel Beckett, though dictation did not work very well for him; in the middle of one such session there was a knock at the door that Beckett didn’t hear. Joyce said, ‘Come in,’ and Beckett wrote it down. Afterwards he read back what he had written and Joyce said, ‘What’s that “Come in”?’ ‘Yes, you said that,’ said Beckett. Joyce thought for a moment, then said ‘Let it stand.’ ”
JOYCE, John (1849–1931), father of Irish writer James Joyce.
1 (John Joyce, who worked as a tax collector in Dublin, had a dry native wit.)
“On one occasion someone complained that his name had been spelled with two ll ’s instead of one. ‘Which l would you like to have removed?’ asked John Joyce gravely.”
2 The Rumanian sculptor Brancusi and James Joyce were friends during the twenties. Harry and Caresse Crosby, wealthy American expatriates, proposed to illustrate their Black Sun edition of Joyce’s Tales Told of Shem and Shaun with a portrait of the author by Brancusi. Brancusi’s portrait was a sketch of an abstract spiral intended to suggest the labyrinthine nature of Joyce’s thought processes. When the portrait was shown to John Joyce in Dublin, he remarked, “The boy seems to have changed a good deal.”
3 John Joyce was renowned as a heavy drinker and was frequently in debt. After his death, when his son was asked what his father had been, James Joyce replied, “He was a bankrupt.”
JUANG-ZU (4th century BC), Chinese philosopher, a major interpreter of Taoism.
1 Juang-zu’s disciples wished to give their master an elaborate burial, but when the dying sage’s views were asked he vetoed the idea of interment. “Above ground I shall be food for kites; below I shall be food for mole-crickets and ants. Why rob one to feed the other?”
JULIA (39 BC-AD 14), daughter of Augustus Caesar, the first Roman emperor.
1 By Marcus Vipsanius Agrippa, her second husband, Julia had three sons and two daughters. Her infidelities were common gossip among Roman high society. Someone once observed that it was remarkable in the circumstances how like Agrippa all her children looked. “That,” said Julia, “is because passengers are never allowed on board until the hold is full.”
2 One day Julia came into her father’s presence wearing a rather immodest dress. Though shocked, the emperor did not rebuke her. The following day, to his great pleasure, she appeared in a dress entirely suitable to her age and status. “This dress,” he said to her, “is much more becoming to the daughter of Augustus.” Julia excused herself: “Today I dressed to meet my father’s eyes; yesterday it was for my husband’s.”
3 At a gladiatorial display, the groups of people attending the two first ladies of Rome — Julia and her stepmother, Livia — appeared in striking contrast. Livia was surrounded by mature men who held important positions in public life, while Julia’s suite comprised mainly wild and pleasure-loving youngsters. Augustus sent Julia a note, remarking on this difference. Julia countered: “These friends of mine will be old men too, when I am old.”
4 A friend once tried to persuade Julia that she should abandon her extravagant lifestyle and live more in accordance with her father’s simple tastes. Julia refused: “He sometimes forgets that he is Caesar, but I always remember that I am Caesar’s daughter.”
JULIAN (c. 332–363), Roman emperor at Constantinople (361–363).
1 A former provincial governor was accused of embezzlement, which he strongly denied. He was put on trial and his evidence could not be faulted under examination. Eventually the judge, irritated by the absence of proof and the accused’s protestations of innocence, turned to Julian and demanded, “Can anyone ever be proved guilty if it is enough just to deny the charge?” Julian replied, “Can anyone be proved innocent if it is enough just to accuse him?”
JULIUS II (1443–1513), pope (1503–13), born Giuliano della Rovere.
1 Michelangelo was commissioned to make a statue of Julius II in bronze. He suggested a design showing the pope’s right hand raised and a book held in his left hand. The pope did not approve. “Put a sword there,” he said, “for I know nothing of letters.”
JULLIEN, Louis Antoine (1812–60), French composer and conductor.
1 Jullien was born at Sisteron in the Basses Alpes. His father, a violinist, had been invited to play a concerto with the local Philharmonic Society orchestra and thought it only proper that he should ask one of the musicians to be the child’s godfather. A problem arose, however, when all thirty-six members of the orchestra claimed the privilege. In the end the society’s secretary held the infant at the font and he was duly baptized with all thirty-six names.
2 In his last year Jullien toyed with the scheme of setting the Lord’s Prayer to music. He said it was the idea of the wording on the title page that really attracted him: “THE LORD’S PRAYER. Words by Jesus Christ. Music by Jullien.”
JUSSERAND, Jean Adrien Antoine Jules (1855–1932), French diplomat and scholar.
1 Theodore Roosevelt’s enthusiasm for exercise was a challenge to which the Washington diplomatic corps never became fully accustomed. When Jusserand, garbed in afternoon suit, top hat, and kid gloves, turned up one day for a stroll with the President, he was not a little disconcerted to find Roosevelt in a rough tweed suit and
stout boots. The stroll soon became something of a marathon as Roosevelt bounded off crosscountry, with his unhappy companions toiling fretfully in his wake. At a stream too wide to jump and too deep to ford, they were sure that there would be a respite. But Roosevelt merely said, “We’d better strip, so as not to wet our things in the creek.” With the honor of his country at stake, the urbane Jusserand removed his clothing, except for the kid gloves. As Roosevelt cast a disapproving eye at him, Jusserand forestalled comment by saying, “With your permission, Mr. President, I will keep these on, otherwise it would be embarrassing if we should meet ladies.” Thus they crossed the stream.
2 Jusserand eventually found Roosevelt’s phenomenal energy too much for him. After two sets of tennis at the White House, Roosevelt invited Jusserand to go jogging. Then they had a workout with the medicine ball. “What would you like to do now?” the President asked his guest when his enthusiasm for the exercise seemed to be flagging. “If it’s all the same to you,” gasped the exhausted Frenchman, “lie down and die.”
3 When Jusserand was once talking with Mrs. Theodore Roosevelt, she said, “Why don’t you learn from the United States and Canada? We have a three-thousand-mile unfortified peaceful frontier. You people arm yourselves to the teeth.” The ambassador replied: “Ah, madame. Perhaps we could exchange neighbors!”
K
KAHN, Otto H. (1867–1934), US financier.
1 The great magnate was incensed one day to notice on the front of a run-down store the sign: “ABRAM CAHN. COUSIN OF OTTO H. KAHN.” As soon as he arrived home, he directed his lawyer to get the offending sign removed, under threat of legal proceedings. A few days later Kahn drove past the store again to make sure that the sign had been taken down. It had. In its place was a new one: “ABRAM CAHN. FORMERLY COUSIN OF OTTO H. KAHN.”
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