Bartlett's Book of Anecdotes

by Clifton Fadiman

  3 Diogenes came to Plato’s house one day and was disgusted to find rich and exquisite carpets on the floor. To show his contempt he stamped and wiped his feet upon them, saying, “Thus do I trample upon the pride of Plato.”

  “With greater pride,” observed Plato mildly.

  PLINY [the Younger] (c. 61–c. 133), Roman orator, statesman, and lawyer.

  1 At dinner Pliny noticed that his host distributed the food and wine according to the social standing of the diners. Rich and elegant dishes and the best wine were served to himself and his most honored guests, while cheap and paltry food and drink were set before the rest. Another guest, sensing Pliny’s disapproval of these parsimonious measures, inquired how he managed in his own home. Pliny answered, “I provide each guest with the same fare, for when I invite a man to my table I have placed him on a footing of equality with me and I will therefore treat him as an equal.” The other man was surprised. “Even freedmen?” he asked. “Even freed-men,” replied Pliny, “because on these occasions I regard them as companions, not as freedmen.” The other remarked that this must run Pliny into a great deal of expense. “Not at all,” said Pliny, “for my freedmen don’t drink the same wine as I do, but I drink what they do.”

  PLOTINUS (205–270), Greek philosopher.

  1 A friend urged Plotinus to have his portrait painted. The philosopher refused: “It is bad enough to be condemned to drag around this image in which nature has imprisoned me. Why should I consent to the perpetuation of the image of this image?”

  POE, Edgar Allan (1809–49), US poet, short-story writer, and literary critic.

  1 An old literary and military tradition has it that Poe was expelled from West Point in 1831 for “gross neglect of duty” because he appeared naked at a public parade. Parade dress instructions called for “white belts and gloves, under arms.” Poe took this literally and appeared with rifle over his bare shoulder, wearing belt and gloves — and nothing else.

  POGGIO BRACCIOLINI, Gian Francesco (1380–1459), Italian humanist scholar and writer.

  1 As holder of a secretarial post in the papal Curia, Poggio wore ecclesiastical dress although he was never formally ordained a priest. A cardinal reprimanded him for having children, which did not become a man wearing ecclesiastical garb, and for having a mistress, which was unbecoming even to a layman. Poggio retorted, “I have children, which is suitable for a layman, and I have a mistress, which is a time-honored custom of the clergy.”

  POLK, James K. (1795–1849), US politician; 11th President of the United States (1845–49).

  1 Like another southern President over a hundred years later, Polk disliked alcohol and banned dancing and card playing in the White House. His opponent Sam Houston once said that the only problem with Polk was that he drank too much water.

  POMPADOUR, Jeanne-Antoinette Poisson, Marquise d’Étoiles (1721–64), French lady of the court; mistress of Louis XV.

  1 (Mme de Pompadour enjoyed surrounding herself with intellectuals and supported the Encyclopédistes against the church. Despite her efforts, at one time the religious and anti-rationalist factions in the court persuaded Louis to ban the Encyclopédie. Soon after this a duke wondered aloud at a royal supper party what gunpowder was made of.) “‘It seems so funny that we spend our time killing partridges, and being killed ourselves on the frontier, and really we have no idea how it happens.’ Madame de Pompadour, seeing her opportunity, quickly went on: ‘Yes, and face powder? What is that made of? Now, if you had not confiscated the Encyclopédie, Sire, we could have found out in a moment.’ The King sent to his library for a copy, and presently a footman staggered in under the heavy volumes; the party was kept amused for the rest of the evening looking up gunpowder, rouge, and so on. After this subscribers were allowed to have their copies, though it was still not on sale in the bookshops.”

  2 As she lay dying, Madame de Pompadour summoned her last strength and called to God, “Wait a second,” as she dabbed her cheeks with rouge.

  3 Mme de Pompadour, whose interest not just in her king but in the welfare of his people resulted in her being called “the mistress of France,” was cut down early in life by cancer. After her confessor gave her last rites, he rose to go. “One moment,” she said with a smile as she grasped his hand. “We will leave together.” Upon which she died.

  POPE, Alexander (1688–1744), British poet, satirist, and translator.

  1 Statesman and financier Charles Montagu, first Earl of Halifax, prided himself upon his literary acumen. When Pope had completed the first few books of his translation of the Iliad, Montagu invited him to give a reading at his house. Other eminent literary figures also attended. Pope considered that the reading had gone off very well, even though Lord Halifax had interrupted, most politely, four or five times to say that there was something about that particular passage he did not think quite right and that Pope could improve it with some more thought. On the way home with physician and poet Samuel Garth, Pope confessed that he was much perplexed by Lord Halifax’s rather vague objections. He went on to say that although he had been thinking about the offending passages ever since, he could not for the life of him see what should be done to make them more acceptable to his lordship. Dr. Garth reassured him; he knew Lord Halifax very well, he said, and all Pope needed to do was to leave the passages as they were, wait a couple of months, and then go back to Lord Halifax, thank him for his kind criticisms, and read him the “corrected” passages. In due course Pope had another session with Lord Halifax, reading him the passages exactly as they had been. His lordship was delighted, and congratulated Pope on getting them absolutely right.

  2 Pope’s translation of Homer’s Iliad and Odyssey offended the classical scholar Richard Bentley. Of Pope’s Iliad he said, “It is a pretty poem, Mr. Pope, but you must not call it Homer.”

  3 Pope’s father was a linen draper, and, although his family was respectable, it was by no means aristocratic. George II, alert to social distinctions, advised Lord Hervey, “You ought not to write verses, ’tis beneath your rank; leave such work to little Mr. Pope; it is his trade.”

  4 When Pope was lying on his deathbed, the doctor assured him that his breathing was easier, his pulse steadier, and various other encouraging things. “Here am I,” commented Pope to a friend, “dying of a hundred good symptoms.”

  POPE, Arthur Upham (1881–1969), US eccentric authority on the art and archaeology of Iran (in his day Persia) and neighboring Arab cultures.

  1 Pope was single-minded in his intellectual interests. In 1943 he agreed to deliver the annual Lincoln’s Day address at Cooper Union, New York, where Lincoln had once made an epochal speech. According to a New Yorker magazine account he spoke for about an hour and a half on his favorite topic, Middle Eastern cultures. At the very end, recalling his assigned subject, he discharged his obligation by stating: “Lincoln knew no Arabs, but he would have enjoyed meeting them, and they would have recognized him as a great sheik.”

  PORSON, Richard (1759–1808), British classical scholar.

  1 Porson had an outstanding memory, first revealed during his schooldays at Eton. A classmate, as a practical joke, had borrowed his copy of Horace’s Odes, artfully replacing it with a different text. As the Latin lesson began, Porson was asked to read and translate one of the odes. This he did without faltering, but the master, noticing that the boy appeared to be reading from the wrong side of the page, asked which edition he was using. Porson sheepishly handed the book to his master, who was amazed to find that he had just recited the Latin ode from memory while looking at an English version of Ovid.

  2 Porson was once traveling in a stagecoach with a young Oxford student who, in an attempt to impress the ladies present, let slip a Greek quotation which he said was from Sophocles. The professor was not taken in by the young man’s bluff and, pulling a pocket edition of Sophocles from the folds of his coat, challenged him to find the passage in question. Undeterred, the student said that he had made a mistake and that the quotation was
in fact from Euripides. To the great amusement of the young ladies, Porson immediately produced a copy of Euripides from his pocket and issued the same challenge. In a last desperate attempt to save face, the young man announced with conviction that the passage was, of course, from Aeschylus. However, on seeing the inevitable copy of Aeschylus emerge from Porson’s pocket, he finally admitted defeat. “Coachman!” he cried. “Let me out! There’s a fellow here has the whole Bodleian Library in his pocket.”

  3 Porson arrived unexpectedly to stay with the portrait painter John Hoppner. Hoppner told him he could not offer much in the way of hospitality as Mrs. Hoppner was away and had taken with her the key to the wine closet. In the course of the evening Porson became increasingly restless, declared that he was sure Mrs. Hoppner would keep some wine for her own private enjoyment hidden somewhere in her bedroom, and asked that he might be allowed to search for it. With some irritation Hoppner agreed, and was greatly chagrined when Porson returned from his search clutching a bottle and pronouncing it to be the best gin he had tasted for a long time.

  When Mrs. Hoppner returned, her husband rather angrily told her that Porson had found and consumed her hidden drink.

  “Good heavens,” she cried, “that was spirit of wine for the lamp!”

  4 Porson was once asked for his opinion of the poetical works of his younger contemporary Robert Southey. “Your works will be read,” he told him, “after Shakespeare and Milton are forgotten — and not till then.”

  5 A junior scholar once rashly suggested to Porson that they could collaborate. Porson applauded the notion: “Put in all I know and all you don’t know, and it will make a great work.”

  6 On a walk together, Porson and a Trinitarian friend were discussing the nature of the Trinity. A buggy passed them with three men in it. “There,” said the friend, “that’s an illustration of the Trinity.”

  “No,” said Porson, “you must show me one man in three buggies — if you can.”

  POUSSIN, Nicolas (1594–1665), French classical painter.

  1 Exasperated by his failure to produce a satisfactory depiction of the foam around the mouth of a spirited horse, Poussin dashed his sponge against the canvas. The effect thus created was exactly what he had been striving for so laboriously.

  PREVIN, André (1929–), German-born conductor.

  1 After a rehearsal with the London Symphony Orchestra, Previn was sitting in the bar of the Westbury Hotel, having a drink with the soloist. He saw a young American composer whose work he had admired come into the room, and Previn beckoned him over and ordered him a drink. “I heard your orchestra a few nights ago,” the composer said. “It sounded absolutely marvelous. It was the night the Beethoven Sixth was played in the first half.”

  “Oh, God,” Previn replied, “that was the night Pollini was supposed to play the Fourth Piano Concerto in the second half, and he canceled, and we were stuck with one of those last-minute substitutions, that really appalling third-rate lady pianist. I’m sorry you had to suffer through that.”

  The young composer gave Previn a long and thoughtful look. “That’s all right,” he said coolly, “I didn’t mind. That pianist is my wife.”

  2 To assess their suitability for adopting a Vietnamese orphan, a Miss Taylor, who had run a Saigon orphanage, stayed with the Previn family for a weekend. At breakfast on the first morning, she asked if she might have a bowl of cereal. Eager to please, Previn reached for the health-food cereal that his two small sons consumed with delight every morning and poured Miss Taylor a generous bowlful. While she ate, he held forth on the nutritional value of the cereal. Miss Taylor made no reply, however, until her bowl was empty. “To be quite honest,” she admitted, “I’m not crazy about it.” Previn’s glance happened to fall on the jar from which he had served Miss Taylor. “I’m not surprised,” he said slowly. “I’ve just made you eat a large dish of hamster food.”

  PRINGLE, Sir John (1707–82), Scottish physician.

  1 Ill health is the cause generally given for Pringle’s resignation of the presidency of the Royal Society, but there is also another explanation. Benjamin Franklin’s invention of the lightning rod had given him unique status as a scientist all over the Western world. George III, however, who found Franklin’s revolutionary sentiments uncongenial, was eager to discredit his scientific achievements. He therefore ordered that blunt ends should be substituted for the pointed ends on the lightning rods used on Kew Palace. Sir John Pringle is reputed to have remonstrated with the king, saying, “The laws of nature are not changeable at royal pleasure.” For this undiplomatic remark he was compelled to forfeit his position in the Royal Society.

  PROKOFIEV, Sergei (1891–1953), Russian composer.

  1 One regular concert-goer at the Brussels Philharmonic always arrived at the concert hall armed with a sketchbook and pencil. She would sketch the guest artist during the performance and have the portrait autographed afterward. When Prokofiev’s turn came, however, he refused to sign the picture, considering it a poor likeness. “It looks more like Furtwängler,” he said. The usher who was acting as intermediary for the lady pleaded with the composer: “Please, Mr. Prokofiev. She is such a good subscriber. Please do this little thing for the Brussels Philharmonic!” Prokofiev looked at the picture again. “All right,” he sighed, picking up his pen and writing with a flourish. The usher examined the “autograph” more closely. Prokofiev had signed the picture: “Furtwängler.”

  PUCCINI, Giacomo (1858–1924), Italian opera composer.

  1 Puccini worked on Turandot, his greatest opera, for more than four years, and kept worrying that he would never finish it. In his anxiety he kept pestering his librettists to get their own part of the opera done. “If they wait much longer,” he fretted, “I shall have to get them to put paper, pen, and inkpot in my tomb.”

  PULITZER, Joseph (1847–1911), US newspaper baron, born in Hungary.

  1 Like most great newspaper and magazine owners, Pulitzer was mildly megalomaniacal. He felt the World “should be more powerful than the President.” He even thought it might influence the inhabitants of other planets. He once considered erecting an advertising sign in New Jersey that would be visible on Mars, and was dissuaded only when one of his assistants asked, “What language shall we print it in?”

  PUSHKIN, Alexander (1799–1837), Russian poet, novelist, and playwright.

  1 Pushkin once listened to Gogol reading Dead Souls. He laughed heartily. Then suddenly his face grew grave and he exclaimed, “Oh God, how sad our Russia is!”

  PUTNAM, Israel (1718–90), US Revolutionary commander.

  1 During the French and Indian War Putnam was challenged to a duel by a British major whom he had insulted. Realizing that he would stand little chance in a duel with pistols, Putnam invited the major to his tent and suggested an alternative trial of honor. The two men were sitting on small powder kegs, into each of which Putnam had inserted a slow-burning fuse. The first to squirm or move from his seat would be the loser. As the fuses burned, the major showed increasing signs of anxiety, while Putnam continued to smoke his pipe with a casual air. Seeing the spectators gradually disappear from the tent to escape the impending explosion, the major finally leaped from his keg, acknowledging Putnam as the victor. Only then did Putnam reveal that the kegs contained onions, not gunpowder.

  PYLE, Ernest Taylor (1900–45), US war correspondent.

  1 Reporting on the Normandy landings, Ernie Pyle always seemed to be there when the action was toughest, though without any parade of heroics. Entering Cherbourg, the correspondents found everything superficially calm, when suddenly a shell hit a tank only a few yards from them. When the men in the street stopped running and went back, they found Ernie Pyle taking down the names of those who had come out of the tank. By way of explanation he said, “They seemed to know me, so I had to stick around.”

  PYRRHUS (319–272 BC), king of Epirus, in northwestern Greece (306–272 BC).

  1 In 279 BC the invading Greek forces under Pyrrhus me
t and defeated the Romans at the battle of Asculum in Apulia. The engagement, however, cost Pyrrhus many men, some of his closest associates, and all his baggage. One of the Greeks congratulated the king on his victory, to which he replied, “Another such victory and we are ruined.” Hence the phrase “Pyrrhic victory” for one that costs the victor too high a price.

  PYTHAGORAS (fl. 530 BC), Greek philosopher born on Samos.

  1 Seeing a puppy being beaten one day, Pythagoras took pity, saying, “Stop, do not beat it; it is the soul of a friend which I recognized when I heard it crying out.”

  Q

  QUAYLE, Dan (1947–), US politician; vice president (1989–1993).

  1 President Bush’s adviser, the fearless southern political strategist Lee Atwater, once said to Quayle, “You were the best rabbit we ever had. Let them chase you and they’ll stay off the important things.”

  2 At a Thanksgiving festival in Virginia, Quayle said, “I suppose three important things certainly come to my mind that we want to say thank you. The first would be our family. Your family, my family — which is composed of an immediate family of a wife and three children, a larger family with grandparents and aunts and uncles. We all have our family, whichever that may be.”

  3 Speaking at a college graduation, Quayle managed to mangle the slogan of the United Negro College Fund (“A mind is a terrible thing to waste”), saying, “What a terrible thing it is to lose one’s mind.”