ye are, Mounseer Maiter-di-dauns?" and so down I plumped on the lift side
of her leddyship, to be aven with the willain. Botheration! it wud ha done
your heart good to percave the illigant double wink that I gived her jist
thin right in the face with both eyes.
But the little ould Frinchman he niver beginned to suspict me at all at
all, and disperate hard it was he made the love to her leddyship. "Woully
wou," says he, Pully wou," says he, "Plump in the mud," says he.
"That's all to no use, Mounseer Frog, mavourneen," thinks I; and I talked
as hard and as fast as I could all the while, and throth it was mesilf
jist that divarted her leddyship complately and intirely, by rason of the
illigant conversation that I kipt up wid her all about the dear bogs of
Connaught. And by and by she gived me such a swate smile, from one ind of
her mouth to the ither, that it made me as bould as a pig, and I jist took
hould of the ind of her little finger in the most dillikitest manner in
natur, looking at her all the while out o' the whites of my eyes.
And then ounly percave the cuteness of the swate angel, for no sooner did
she obsarve that I was afther the squazing of her flipper, than she up wid
it in a jiffy, and put it away behind her back, jist as much as to say,
"Now thin, Sir Pathrick O'Grandison, there's a bitther chance for ye,
mavourneen, for it's not altogether the gentaal thing to be afther the
squazing of my flipper right full in the sight of that little furrenner
Frinchman, Mounseer Maiter-di-dauns."
Wid that I giv'd her a big wink jist to say, "lit Sir Pathrick alone for
the likes o' them thricks," and thin I wint aisy to work, and you'd have
died wid the divarsion to behould how cliverly I slipped my right arm
betwane the back o' the sofy, and the back of her leddyship, and there,
sure enough, I found a swate little flipper all a waiting to say, "the tip
o' the mornin' to ye, Sir Pathrick O'Grandison, Barronitt." And wasn't it
mesilf, sure, that jist giv'd it the laste little bit of a squaze in the
world, all in the way of a commincement, and not to be too rough wid her
leddyship? and och, botheration, wasn't it the gentaalest and dilikittest
of all the little squazes that I got in return? "Blood and thunder, Sir
Pathrick, mavourneen," thinks I to mesilf, "fait it's jist the mother's
son of you, and nobody else at all at all, that's the handsomest and the
fortunittest young bog-throtter that ever cum'd out of Connaught!" And
with that I givd the flipper a big squaze, and a big squaze it was, by the
powers, that her leddyship giv'd to me back. But it would ha split the
seven sides of you wid the laffin' to behould, jist then all at once, the
consated behavior of Mounseer Maiter-di-dauns. The likes o' sich a
jabbering, and a smirking, and a parley-wouing as he begin'd wid her
leddyship, niver was known before upon arth; and divil may burn me if it
wasn't me own very two peepers that cotch'd him tipping her the wink out
of one eye. Och, hon! if it wasn't mesilf thin that was mad as a Kilkenny
cat I shud like to be tould who it was!
"Let me infarm you, Mounseer Maiter-di-dauns," said I, as purlite as iver
ye seed, "that it's not the gintaal thing at all at all, and not for the
likes o' you inny how, to be afther the oggling and a goggling at her
leddyship in that fashion," and jist wid that such another squaze as it
was I giv'd her flipper, all as much as to say, "isn't it Sir Pathrick
now, my jewel, that'll be able to the proticting o' you, my darlint?" and
then there cum'd another squaze back, all by way of the answer. "Thrue for
you, Sir Pathrick," it said as plain as iver a squaze said in the world,
"Thrue for you, Sir Pathrick, mavourneen, and it's a proper nate gintleman
ye are -- that's God's truth," and with that she opened her two beautiful
peepers till I belaved they wud ha' cum'd out of her hid althegither and
intirely, and she looked first as mad as a cat at Mounseer Frog, and thin
as smiling as all out o' doors at mesilf.
"Thin," says he, the willian, "Och hon! and a wolly-wou, pully-wou," and
then wid that he shoved up his two shoulders till the divil the bit of his
hid was to be diskivered, and then he let down the two corners of his
purraty-trap, and thin not a haporth more of the satisfaction could I git
out o' the spalpeen.
Belave me, my jewel, it was Sir Pathrick that was unreasonable mad thin,
and the more by token that the Frinchman kipt an wid his winking at the
widdy; and the widdy she kept an wid the squazing of my flipper, as much
as to say, "At him again, Sir Pathrick O'Grandison, mavourneen:" so I just
ripped out wid a big oath, and says I;
"Ye little spalpeeny frog of a bog-throtting son of a bloody noun!" -- and
jist thin what d'ye think it was that her leddyship did? Troth she jumped
up from the sofy as if she was bit, and made off through the door, while I
turned my head round afther her, in a complate bewilderment and
botheration, and followed her wid me two peepers. You percave I had a
reason of my own for knowing that she couldn't git down the stares
althegither and intirely; for I knew very well that I had hould of her
hand, for the divil the bit had I iver lit it go. And says I; "Isn't it
the laste little bit of a mistake in the world that ye've been afther the
making, yer leddyship? Come back now, that's a darlint, and I'll give ye
yur flipper." But aff she wint down the stairs like a shot, and thin I
turned round to the little Frinch furrenner. Och hon! if it wasn't his
spalpeeny little paw that I had hould of in my own -- why thin -- thin it
wasn't -- that's all.
And maybe it wasn't mesilf that jist died then outright wid the laffin',
to behold the little chap when he found out that it wasn't the widdy at
all at all that he had had hould of all the time, but only Sir Pathrick
O'Grandison. The ould divil himself niver behild sich a long face as he
pet an! As for Sir Pathrick O'Grandison, Barronitt, it wasn't for the
likes of his riverence to be afther the minding of a thrifle of a mistake.
Ye may jist say, though (for it's God's thruth), that afore I left hould
of the flipper of the spalpeen (which was not till afther her leddyship's
futman had kicked us both down the stairs, I giv'd it such a nate little
broth of a squaze as made it all up into raspberry jam.
"Woully wou," says he, "pully wou," says he -- "Cot tam!"
And that's jist the thruth of the rason why he wears his lift hand in a
sling.
~~~ End of Text ~~~
======
BON-BON.
_ Quand un bon vin meuble mon estomac,
Je suis plus savant que Balzac -
Plus sage que Pibrac ;
Mon brass seul faisant l'attaque
De la nation Coseaque,
La mettroit au sac ;
De Charon je passerois le lac,
En dormant dans son bac ;
J'irois au fier Eac,
Sans que mon cœur fit tic ni tac,
Présenter du tabac.
French Vaudeville_
THAT Pierre Bon-Bon was a _restaurateur_ of uncommon qualifications,
no man who,
during the reign of ---, frequented the little Câfé in the
cul-de-sac Le Febvre at Rouen, will, I imagine, feel himself at liberty to
dispute. That Pierre Bon-Bon was, in an equal degree, skilled in the
philosophy of that period is, I presume, still more especially undeniable.
His _patés à la fois_ were beyond doubt immaculate; but what pen can do
justice to his essays _sur la Nature_ - his thoughts sur _l'Ame_ - his
observations _sur l'Esprit ?_ If his _omelettes_ - if his _fricandeaux_
were inestimable, what _littérateur_ of that day would not have given
twice as much for an "_Idée de Bon-Bon_" as for all the trash of "_Idées_"
of all the rest of the _savants ?_ Bon-Bon had ransacked libraries which
no other man had ransacked - had more than any other would have
entertained a notion of reading- had understood more than any other would
have conceived the possibility of understanding; and although, while he
flourished, there were not wanting some authors at Rouen to assert "that
his _dicta_ evinced neither the purity of the Academy, nor the depth of
the Lyceum" - although, mark me, his doctrines were by no means very
generally comprehended, still it did not follow that they were difficult
of comprehension. It was, I think, on account of their self-evidency that
many persons were led to consider them abstruse. It is to Bon-Bon - but
let this go no farther - it is to Bon-Bon that Kant himself is mainly
indebted for his metaphysics. The former was indeed not a Platonist, nor
strictly speaking an Aristotelian - nor did he, like the modern Leibnitz,
waste those precious hours which might be employed in the invention of a
_fricasée_ or, _facili gradu_, the analysis of a sensation, in frivolous
attempts at reconciling the obstinate oils and waters of ethical
discussion. Not at all. Bon-Bon was Ionic - Bon-Bon was equally Italic. He
reasoned _à priori_ - He reasoned also _à posteriori_. His ideas were
innate - or otherwise. He believed in George of Trebizonde - He believed
in Bossarion [Bessarion]. Bon-Bon was emphatically a - Bon-Bonist.
I have spoken of the philosopher in his capacity of _restaurateur_. I
would not, however, have any friend of mine imagine that, in fulfilling
his hereditary duties in that line, our hero wanted a proper estimation of
their dignity and importance. Far from it. It was impossible to say in
which branch of his profession he took the greater pride. In his opinion
the powers of the intellect held intimate connection with the capabilities
of the stomach. I am not sure, indeed, that he greatly disagreed with the
Chinese, who held that the soul lies in the abdomen. The Greeks at all
events were right, he thought, who employed the same words for the mind
and the diaphragm. {*1) By this I do not mean to insinuate a charge of
gluttony, or indeed any other serious charge to the prejudice of the
metaphysician. If Pierre Bon-Bon had his failings - and what great man has
not a thousand? - if Pierre Bon-Bon, I say, had his failings, they were
failings of very little importance - faults indeed which, in other
tempers, have often been looked upon rather in the light of virtues. As
regards one of these foibles, I should not even have mentioned it in this
history but for the remarkable prominency - the extreme _alto relievo_ -
in which it jutted out from the plane of his general disposition. He could
never let slip an opportunity of making a bargain.
{*1} MD,<,l
Not that he was avaricious - no. It was by no means necessary to the
satisfaction of the philosopher, that the bargain should be to his own
proper advantage. Provided a trade could be effected - a trade of any
kind, upon any terms, or under any circumstances - a triumphant smile was
seen for many days thereafter to enlighten his countenance, and a knowing
wink of the eye to give evidence of his sagacity.
At any epoch it would not be very wonderful if a humor so peculiar as
the one I have just mentioned, should elicit attention and remark. At the
epoch of our narrative, had this peculiarity not attracted observation,
there would have been room for wonder indeed. It was soon reported that,
upon all occasions of the kind, the smile of Bon-Bon was wont to differ
widely from the downright grin with which he would laugh at his own jokes,
or welcome an acquaintance. Hints were thrown out of an exciting nature;
stories were told of perilous bargains made in a hurry and repented of at
leisure; and instances were adduced of unaccountable capacities, vague
longings, and unnatural inclinations implanted by the author of all evil
for wise purposes of his own.
The philosopher had other weaknesses - but they are scarcely worthy
our serious examination. For example, there are few men of extraordinary
profundity who are found wanting in an inclination for the bottle. Whether
this inclination be an exciting cause, or rather a valid proof of such
profundity, it is a nice thing to say. Bon-Bon, as far as I can learn, did
not think the subject adapted to minute investigation; - nor do I. Yet in
the indulgence of a propensity so truly classical, it is not to be
supposed that the restaurateur would lose sight of that intuitive
discrimination which was wont to characterize, at one and the same time,
his essais and his omelettes. In his seclusions the Vin de Bourgogne had
its allotted hour, and there were appropriate moments for the Cotes du
Rhone. With him Sauterne was to Medoc what Catullus was to Homer. He would
sport with a syllogism in sipping St. Peray, but unravel an argument over
Clos de Vougeot, and upset a theory in a torrent of Chambertin. Well had
it been if the same quick sense of propriety had attended him in the
peddling propensity to which I have formerly alluded - but this was by no
means the case. Indeed to say the truth, that trait of mind in the
philosophic Bon-Bon did begin at length to assume a character of strange
intensity and mysticism, and appeared deeply tinctured with the diablerie
of his favorite German studies.
To enter the little Cafe in the cul-de-sac Le Febvre was, at the
period of our tale, to enter the sanctum of a man of genius. Bon-Bon was a
man of genius. There was not a sous-cusinier in Rouen, who could not have
told you that Bon-Bon was a man of genius. His very cat knew it, and
forebore to whisk her tail in the presence of the man of genius. His large
water-dog was acquainted with the fact, and upon the approach of his
master, betrayed his sense of inferiority by a sanctity of deportment, a
debasement of the ears, and a dropping of the lower jaw not altogether
unworthy of a dog. It is, however, true that much of this habitual respect
might have been attributed to the personal appearance of the
metaphysician. A distinguished exterior will, I am constrained to say,
have its way even with a beast; and I am willing to allow much in the
outward man of the restaurateur calculated to impress the imagination of
the quadruped. There is a peculiar majesty about the atmosphere of the
little great - if I may be permitted so equivocal an expression - which
mere physical
bulk alone will be found at all times inefficient in
creating. If, however, Bon-Bon was barely three feet in height, and if his
head was diminutively small, still it was impossible to behold the
rotundity of his stomach without a sense of magnificence nearly bordering
upon the sublime. In its size both dogs and men must have seen a type of
his acquirements - in its immensity a fitting habitation for his immortal
soul.
I might here - if it so pleased me - dilate upon the matter of
habiliment, and other mere circumstances of the external metaphysician. I
might hint that the hair of our hero was worn short, combed smoothly over
his forehead, and surmounted by a conical-shaped white flannel cap and
tassels - that his pea-green jerkin was not after the fashion of those
worn by the common class of restaurateurs at that day- that the sleeves
were something fuller than the reigning costume permitted - that the cuffs
were turned up, not as usual in that barbarous period, with cloth of the
same quality and color as the garment, but faced in a more fanciful manner
with the particolored velvet of Genoa - that his slippers were of a bright
purple, curiously filigreed, and might have been manufactured in Japan,
but for the exquisite pointing of the toes, and the brilliant tints of the
binding and embroidery - that his breeches were of the yellow satin-like
material called aimable - that his sky-blue cloak, resembling in form a
dressing-wrapper, and richly bestudded all over with crimson devices,
floated cavalierly upon his shoulders like a mist of the morning - and
that his tout ensemble gave rise to the remarkable words of Benevenuta,
the Improvisatrice of Florence, "that it was difficult to say whether
Pierre Bon-Bon was indeed a bird of Paradise, or rather a very Paradise of
perfection." I might, I say, expatiate upon all these points if I pleased,
- but I forbear, merely personal details may be left to historical
novelists,- they are beneath the moral dignity of matter-of-fact.
Poe, Edgar Allen - The Complete Works of Edgar Allen Poe Page 156