Scotchman.—”I have heard the same remarked of the Hebrew. I am told that the Hebrew and Irish idiom are much alike.”
Irishman (laughing).—”That is a great comfort to us, certainly, particularly to those amongst us who are fond of tracing our origin up to the remotest antiquity; but still there are many who would willingly give up the honour of this high alliance to avoid its inconveniences; for my own part, if I could ensure myself and my countrymen from all future danger of making bulls and blunders, I would this instant give up all Hebrew roots; and even the Ogham character itself I would renounce, ‘to make assurance doubly sure.’”
Englishman.—”’To make assurance doubly sure.’ Now there is an example in our great Shakspeare of what I have often observed, that we English allow our poets and ourselves a licence of speech that we deny to our Hibernian neighbours. If an Irishman, instead of Shakspeare, had talked of making ‘assurance doubly sure,’ we should have asked how that could be. The vulgar in England are too apt to catch at every slip of the tongue made by Irishmen. I remember once being present when an Irish nobleman, of talents and literature, was actually hissed from the hustings at a Middlesex election because in his speech he happened to say, ‘We have laid the root to the axe of the tree of liberty,’ instead of ‘we have laid the axe to the root of the tree.’”
Scotchman,—”A lapsus linguae, that might have been made by the greatest orators, ancient or modern; by Cicero or Chatham, by Burke, or by ‘the fluent Murray.’”
Englishman,—”Upon another occasion I have heard that an Irish orator was silenced with ‘inextinguishable laughter’ merely for saying, ‘I am sorry to hear my honourable friend stand mute.’”
Scotchman.—”If I am not mistaken, that very same Irish orator made an allusion at which no one could laugh. ‘The protection,’ said he, ‘which Britain affords to Ireland in the day of adversity, is like that which the oak affords to the ignorant countryman, who flies to it for shelter in the storm; it draws down upon his head the lightning of heaven:’ may be I do not repeat the words exactly, but I could not forget the idea.”
Englishman.—”I would with all my heart bear the ridicule of a hundred blunders for the honour of having made such a simile: after all, his saying, ‘I am sorry to hear my honourable friend stand mute,’ if it be a bull, is justified by Homer; one of the charms in the cestus of Venus is,
‘Silence that speaks, and eloquence of eyes.’”
Scotchman.—”Silence that speaks, sir, is, I am afraid, an English, not a Grecian charm. It is not in the Greek; it is one of those beautiful liberties which Mr. Pope has taken with his original. But silence that speaks can be found in France as well as in England. Voltaire, in his chef-d’oeuvre, his Oedipus, makes Jocasta say,
‘Tout parle centre nous jusqu’à notre silence.’” 59
Englishman.—”And in our own Milton, Samson Agonistes makes as good, indeed a better bull; for he not only makes the mute speak, but speak loud: —
‘The deeds themselves, though mute, spoke loud the doer.’
And in Paradise Lost we have, to speak in fashionable language, two famous bulls. Talking of Satan, Milton says,
‘God and his Son except,
Created thing nought valued he nor shunn’d.’
And speaking of Adam and Eve, and their sons and daughters, he confounds them all together in a manner for which any Irishman would have been laughed to scorn: —
‘Adam, the goodliest man of men since born,
His sons; the fairest of her daughters Eve.’
Yet Addison, who notices these blunders, calls them only little blemishes.”
Scotchman.—”He does so; and he quotes Horace, who tells us we should impute such venial errors to a pardonable inadvertency; and, as I recollect, Addison makes another very just remark, that the ancients, who were actuated by a spirit of candour, not of cavilling, invented a variety of figures of speech, on purpose to palliate little errors of this nature.”
“Really, gentlemen,” interrupted the Hibernian, who had sat all this time in silence that spoke his grateful sense of the politeness of his companions, “you will put the finishing stroke to my obligations to you, if you will prove that the ancient figures of speech were invented to palliate Irish blunders.”
Englishman.—”No matter for what purpose they were invented; if we can make so good a use of them we shall be satisfied, especially if you are pleased. I will, however, leave the burden of the proof upon my friend here, who has detected me already in quoting from Pope’s Iliad instead of Homer’s. I am sure he will manage the ancient figures of rhetoric better than I should; however, if I can fight behind his shield I shall not shun the combat.”
Scotchman.—”I stand corrected for quoting Greek. Now I will not go to Longinus for my tropes and figures; I have just met with a little book on the subject, which I put into my pocket to-day, intending to finish it on my journey, but I have been better employed.”
He drew from his pocket a book, called, “Deinology; or, the Union of Reason and Elegance.” “Look,” said he, “look at this long list of tropes and figures; amongst them we could find apologies for every species of Irish bulls; but in mercy, I will select, from ‘the twenty chief and most moving figures of speech,’ only the oxymoron, as it is a favourite with Irish orators. In the oxymoron contradictions meet: to reconcile these, Irish ingenuity delights. I will further spare four out of the seven figures of less note: emphasis, enallage, and the hysteron proteron you must have; because emphasis graces Irish diction, enallage unbinds it from strict grammatical fetters, and hysteron proteron allows it sometimes to put the cart before the horse. Of the eleven grammatical figures, Ireland delights chiefly in the antimeria, or changing one part of speech for another, and in the ellipsis or defect. Of the remaining long list of figures, the Irish are particularly disposed to the epizeuxis, as ‘indeed, indeed — at all, at all,’ and antanaclasis, or double meaning. The tautotes, or repetition of the same thing, is, I think, full as common amongst the English. The hyperbole and catachresis are so nearly related to a bull, that I shall dwell upon them with pleasure. You must listen to the definition of a catachresis:—’A catachresis is the boldest of any trope. Necessity makes it borrow and employ an expression or term contrary to the thing it means to express.’”
“Upon my word this is something like a description of an Irish bull,” interrupted the Hibernian.
Scotchman.—”For instance, it has been said, Equitare in arundine longá, to ride on horseback on a stick. Reason condemns the contradiction, but necessity has allowed it, and use has made it intelligible. The same trope is employed in the following metaphorical expression: — the seeds of the Gospel have been watered by the blood of the martyrs.”
Englishman.—”That does seem an absurdity, I grant; but you know great orators trample on impossibilities.” 60
Scotchman.—”And great poets get the letter of them. You recollect Shakspeare says,
‘Now bid me run,
And I will strive with things impossible,
Yea, get the better of them.’”
Englishman.—”And Corneille, in the Cid, I believe, makes his hero a compliment upon his having performed impossibilities—’Vos mains seules ont le droit de vaincre un invincible.’” 61
Scotchman.—”Ay, that would be a bull in an Irishman, but it is only an hyperbole in a Frenchman.”
Irishman.—”Indeed this line of Corneille’s out-hyperboles the hyperbole, considered in any but a prophetic light; as a prophecy, it exactly foretels the taking of Bonaparte’s invincible standard by the glorious forty-second regiment of the British: ‘Your hands alone have a right to vanquish the invincible.’ By-the-by, the phrase ont le droit cannot, I believe, be literally translated into English; but the Scotch and Irish, have a right, translates it exactly. But do not let me interrupt my country’s defence, gentlemen; I am heartily glad to find Irish blunderers may shelter themselves in such good company in the ancient sanctuary of th
e hyperbole. But I am afraid you must deny admittance to the poor mason, who said, ‘This house will stand as long as the world, and longer.’”
Scotchman.—”Why should we ‘shut the gates of mercy’ upon him when we pardon his betters for more flagrant sins? For instance, Mr. Pope, who, in his Essay on Criticism, makes a blunder, or rather uses an hyperbole, stronger than that of your poor Irish mason: —
‘When first young Maro in his noble mind
A work t’outlast immortal Rome design’d.’
And to give you a more modern case, I lately heard an English shopkeeper say to a lady in recommendation of his goods, ‘Ma’am, it will wear for ever, and make you a petticoat afterwards.’”
Irishman.—”Upon my word, I did not think you could have found a match for the mason; but what will you say to my countryman, who, on meeting an acquaintance, accosted him with this ambiguous compliment—’When first I saw you I thought it was you, but now I see it is your brother.’”
Scotchman.—”If I were not afraid you would take me for a pedant, I should quote a sentence from Cicero that is not far behind this blunder.”
Irishman.—”I can take you for nothing but a friend: pray let us have the Latin.”
Scotchman.—”It is one of Cicero’s compliments to Caesar—’Qui, cum ipse imperator in toto imperio populi Romani unus esset, esse me alterum passus est.’62 Perhaps,” continued the Scotchman, “my way of pronouncing Latin sounds strangely to you, gentlemen?”
Irishman.—”And perhaps ours would be unintelligible to Cicero himself, if he were to overhear us: I fancy we are all so far from right, that we need not dispute about degrees of wrong.”
The coach stopped at this instant, and the conversation was interrupted.
CHAPTER XIII. BATH COACH CONVERSATION.
After our travellers had dined, the conversation was renewed by the English gentleman’s repeating Goldsmith’s celebrated lines on Burke:
“Who, too deep for his hearers, still went on refining,
And thought of convincing, whilst they thought of dining;
In short, ’twas his fate, unemployed or in place, sir,
To eat mutton cold, and cut blocks with a razor.”
“What humour and wit there are in that poem of Goldsmith’s! and where is there any thing equal to his ‘Traveller?’”
Irishman.—”Yet this is the man who used to be the butt of the company for his bulls.”
Englishman.—”No, not for his bulls, but for blurting out opinions in conversation that could not stand the test of Dr. Johnson’s critical powers. But what would become of the freedom of wit and humour if every word that came out of our mouths were subject to the tax of a professed critic’s censure, or if every sentence were to undergo a logical examination? It would be well for Englishmen if they were a little more inclined, like your open-hearted countrymen, to blurt out their opinions freely.”
Scotchman,—”I cannot forgive Dr. Johnson for calling Goldsmith an inspired idiot; I confess I see no idiotism, but much inspiration, in his works.”
Irishman.—”But we must remember, that if Johnson did laugh at Goldsmith, he would let no one else laugh at him, and he was his most sincere and active friend. The world would, perhaps, never have seen the ‘Vicar of Wakefield’ if Johnson had not recommended it to a bookseller; and Goldsmith might have died in jail if the doctor had not got him a hundred pounds for it, when poor Goldsmith did not know it was worth a shilling. When we recollect this, we must forgive the doctor for calling him, in jest, an inspired idiot.”
Scotchman.—”Especially as Goldsmith has wit enough to bear him up against a thousand such jests.”
Englishman.—”It is curious to observe how nearly wit and absurdity are allied. We may forgive the genius of Ireland if he sometimes
‘Leap his light courser o’er the bounds of taste.’
Even English genius is not always to be restrained within the strict limits of common sense. For instance, Young is witty when he says,
‘How would a miser startle to be told
Of such a wonder as insolvent gold.’
But Johnson is, I am afraid, absurd when he says,
‘Turn from the glittering bribe your scornful eye,
Nor sell for gold what gold can never buy.’”
“One case, to be sure, must be excepted,” said the Irishman; “a patriot may sell his reputation, and the purchaser get nothing by it. But, gentlemen, I have just recollected an example of an Irish bull in which are all the happy requisites, incongruity, confusion, and laughable confusion, both in thought and expression. When Sir Richard Steele was asked, how it happened that his countrymen made so many bulls, he replied, ‘It is the effect of climate, sir; if an Englishman were born in Ireland, he would make as many.’”
Scotchman.—”This is an excellent bull, I allow; but I think I can match it.”
Englishman.—”And if he can, you will allow yourself to be fairly vanquished?”
Irishman.—”Most willingly.”
Scotchman.—”Then I shall owe my victory to our friend Dr. Johnson, the leviathan of English literature. In his celebrated preface to Shakspeare he says, that ‘he has not only shown human nature as it acts in real exigencies, but as it would be found in situations to which it cannot be exposed.’ These are his own words; I think I remember them accurately.”
The English gentleman smiled, and our Hibernian acknowledged that the Scotchman had fairly gained the victory. “My friends,” added he, “as I cannot pretend to be ‘convinced against my will,’ I certainly am not ‘of the same opinion still.’ But stay — there are such things as practical bulls: did you never hear of the Irishman who ordered a painter to draw his picture, and to represent him standing behind a tree?”
Englishman.—”No: but I have heard the very same story told of an Englishman. The dealers in good jokes give them first to one nation and then to another, first to one celebrated character and then to another, as it suits the demand and fashion of the day: just as our printsellers, with a few touches, change the portrait of General Washington into the head of the king of France, and a capital print of Sir Joshua Reynolds into a striking likeness of the Monster.
“But I can give you an instance of a practical bull that is not only indisputably English, but was made by one of the greatest men that England ever produced, Sir Isaac Newton, who, after he had made a large hole in his study-door for his cat to creep through, made a small hole beside it for the kitten. You will acknowledge, sir, that this is a good practical bull.”
“Pardon me,” said the Hibernian, “we have still some miles further to go, and, if you will give me leave, I will relate ‘an Hibernian tale,’ which exemplifies some of the opinions held in this conversation.”
The Scotch and English gentlemen begged to hear the story, and he began in the following manner.
CHAPTER XIV. THE IRISH INCOGNITO.
Sir John Bull was a native of Ireland, bred and born in the city of Cork. His real name was Phelim O’Mooney, and he was by profession a stocah, or walking gentleman; that is, a person who is too proud to earn his bread, and too poor to have bread without earning it. He had always been told that none of his ancestors had ever been in trade or business of any kind, and he resolved, when a boy, never to demean himself and family, as his elder brother had done, by becoming a rich merchant. When he grew up to be a young man, he kept this spirited resolution as long as he had a relation or friend in the world who would let him hang upon them; but when he was shaken off by all, what could he do but go into business? He chose the most genteel, however; he became a wine merchant. I’m only a wine merchant, said he to himself, and that is next door to being nothing at all. His brother furnished his cellars; and Mr. Phelim O’Mooney, upon the strength of the wine that he had in his cellars, and of the money he expected to make of it, immediately married a wife, set up a gig, and gave excellent dinners to men who were ten times richer than he even ever expected to be. In return for these excellent d
inners, his new friends bought all their wine from Mr. O’Mooney, and never paid for it; he lived upon credit himself, and gave all his friends credit, till he became a bankrupt. Then nobody came to dine with him, and every body found out that he had been very imprudent; and he was obliged to sell his gig, but not before it had broken his wife’s neck; so that when accounts came to be finally settled, he was not much worse than when he began the world, the loss falling upon his creditors, and he being, as he observed, free to begin life again, with the advantage of being once more a bachelor. He was such a good-natured, free-hearted fellow, that every body liked him, even his creditors. His wife’s relations made up the sum of five hundred pounds for him, and his brother offered to take him into his firm as partner; but O’Mooney preferred, he said, going to try, or rather to make, his fortune in England, as he did not doubt but he should by marriage, being, as he did not scruple to acknowledge, a personable, clever-looking man, and a great favourite with the sex.
“My last wife I married for love, my next I expect will do the same by me, and of course the money must come on her side this time,” said our hero, half jesting, half in earnest. His elder and wiser brother, the merchant, whom he still held in more than sufficient contempt, ventured to hint some slight objections to this scheme of Phelim’s seeking fortune in England. He observed that so many had gone upon this plan already, that there was rather a prejudice in England against Irish adventurers.
This could not affect him any ways, Phelim replied, because he did not mean to appear in England as an Irishman at all.
“How then?”
“As an Englishman, since that is most agreeable.”
“How can that be?”
“Who should hinder it?”
His brother, hesitatingly, said “Yourself.”
“Myself! — What part of myself? Is it my tongue? — You’ll acknowledge, brother, that I do not speak with the brogue.”
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