What Will He Do with It? — Volume 03Lytton, Edward Bulwer Lytton, Baron
General
What Will He Do with It? — Volume 03
Lytton, Edward Bulwer Lytton, Baron
English fiction -- 19th century
"But considering the innumerable millions who have lived on the earth, it
is astonishing how few I can call to mind who have left behind them a
proverbial renown for wisdom. There is, indeed, Solomon, but he fell off
at the last; and as he belongs to sacred history, we must not take a
liberty with his name. Who is there very, very wise, besides Solomon?
Think, Sophy,--Profane History."
Sophy (after a musing pause).--"Puss in Boots."
"Well, he was wise; but then he was not human; he was a cat. Ha!
Socrates. Shall we call him Socrates, Socrates, Socrates?"
SOPHY.--"Socrates, Socrates!" Mop yawned.
WAIFE.--"He don't take to Socrates,--prosy!"
SOPHY.--"Ah, Mr. Merle's book about the Brazen Head, Friar Bacon! He
must have been very wise."
WAIFE.--"Not bad; mysterious, but not recondite; historical, yet
familiar. What does Mop say to it? Friar, Friar, Friar Bacon, sir,
--Friar!"
SOPHY (coaxingly).--"Friar!"
Mop, evidently conceiving that appeal is made to some other personage,
canine or human, not present, rouses up, walks to the door, smells at the
chink, returns, shakes his head, and rests on his haunches, eying his two
friends superciliously.
SOPHY.--"He does not take to that name."
WAIFE.--"He has his reasons for it; and indeed there are many worthy
persons who disapprove of anything that savours of magical practices.
Mop intimates that on entering public life one should beware of offending
the respectable prejudices of a class."
Mr. Waife then, once more resorting to the recesses of scholastic memory,
plucked therefrom, somewhat by the head and shoulders, sundry names
reverenced in a by-gone age. He thought of the seven wise men of Greece,
but could only recall the nomenclature of two out of the--even,--a sad
proof of the distinction between collegiate fame and popular renown. He
called Thales; he called Bion. Mop made no response. "Wonderful
intelligence!" said Waife; "he knows that Thales and Bion would not
draw!--obsolete."
Mop was equally mute to Aristotle. He pricked up his cars at Plato,
perhaps because the sound was not wholly dissimilar from that of Ponto,
--a name of which he might have had vague reminiscences. The Romans not
having cultivated an original philosophy, though they contrived to
produce great men without it, Waife passed by that perished people. He
crossed to China, and tried Confucius. Mop had evidently never heard of
him.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
Reviews
Reviews
No reviews yet
Be the first to share your thoughts on this work.
Join the Discussion
Join the discussion
Sign in to leave a comment or review.
Sign InorCreate an account